Hello Friends!

I find myself putting off posting because I don't know exactly what to say. It's been a very tough few weeks....I am sososo tired and I am so heartbroken. I want to be positive and upbeat...but I just can't be. I'm sorry that I have to come here with such a heavy heart...but I know that many of you want an update. I haven't found a chunk of time where I am breathing freely; where I can share hope and a positive spirit. I never, in my wildest dreams, thought that we would be at this place so soon...but I guess that this is an important part of the journey. When we started this experience I promised Richard that I would be faithful to this blog....I don't think I ever imagined that the time would come when it would become so difficult to share, with honesty, what this part of a very challenging road.

Richard had his first session of chemotherapy on Monday, December 29th. The infusion itself went smoothly. We reaffirmed with our doctor our desire to fight this monster called glioblastoma. Richard clearly stated that each additional day with his family and friends is worth this chemo regime. I agree totally with him. I am positive we are doing the right thing.

Richard continues to seem very weak physically. I don't know if it is the new chemo or if it is the tumor profression. I feel so powerless and frustrated at times. I can't make any of this better and my heart aches for him. He is in bed most of the day...He gets up for a while but tires quickly and needs to return to the comfort of laying down. He is shuffling badly and is having to have help getting up and down from a laying or sitting position. The doctor suggested that we get a walker for him (that was a hard day for all of us) and usually I am either walking with him or he is using his walker to move from one place to another. His speech is much quieter and is slurred...usually worse when he is tired. I think he is often confused...and when he is very tired he seems to slip into his own world. He often seems so far away.

He and I are handling the physical part without any problem. But for me the most difficult time is when I can't seem to reach him and when I realize that our partnership is changing rapidly. I get so frightened...almost panicky....eventhough I feel as though I have been prepared for this period in this journey....I never anticipated how badly it would hurt. I never knew I had so many tears to shed. I never knew how frantic I could feel...so powerless to change what is happening. And....sadly....I feel so alone. Eventhough we have so much support...no one can possibly understand my anguish unless they have traveled a road where they have lost a loved one.

Richard seems at peace with all that is happening. He has gotten to the point of total acceptance...his only distress that is expressed is when he sees me or his children struggling with our sadness. I always assure him that sadness is OK and that we are OK...and most importantly.....we will be OK. Struggling and sadness is a huge part of this journey and its important to let it happen. We are all learning to grieve and it is an essential lesson. Once we talk for a while he calms down and relaxes again. He continues to tell us, over and over again, that he is not frightened...and that he is giving the chemo space to work and yet accepting the seriousness of where his disease is at. He continues to be our hero in so many ways. His courage is absolutely amazing and gives us all such pride. His example gives us all such strength.

I want you all to know that eventhough it is easy to look into the future, to worry and fret....We are all still focusing on living each moment to the fullest and remembering the preciousness of this time together. Our home is so full of love...everyone talks about how "homey and warm" it feels....we hug everyone, all of us sit close together and touch...hold hands, listen intently and look into each others eyes, take time to let our breaths come together in a strong rhythym. We laugh and we cry...but in an amazing way...it feels so real....and we all know that something special is happening here....our job has become one of witnessing.....and often standing in awe.

I have come to learn and believe that at those times when Richard feels so far away from me I am watching a "holy time" for him. I've read that it is at these times that people who are seriously ill are surrounded by spiritual guides or angels who are assisting them in their preparation to transition from this world to another. These guides are there to assure and comfort and to give understanding to something that is so difficult to grasp in our earthly world. This explanation has helped me to let this time between us just "be" and eventhough it is so hard....I fight trying to bring him back to a place of relating to me. It is horribly sad for me...but at the same time I find myself sitting in awe...wishing I could join him but knowing that this part of the journey is only for him...a very private time of comfort and faith.

One more thing....At night I find myself laying very close to Richard....spooning....with either my arm around him or with his arm around me, especially when we first go to sleep. I take time to feel the way our bodies fit perfectly together and I always hold his beautiful hand. I feel his breath and his warmth and I see us surrounded in a glowing light. My heart is full at these times and I often have tears in my eyes. I lay there for a long time...silently and perfectly still...soaking in these intense moments. I truly feel so horribly sad and frightened when my heart knows in such a deep way that laying with my beautiful husband will not go on forever. I'm already aching with the anticipation of not being held by him, It is such a deep loss..I didn't know I could "feel" so intently.

There's so many other things I should mention.....but for now this is enough. I must go and try to sleep. Thank you for all the wonderful support. We hold you all very close.

Blessinngs,

Sherri