A lot has gone on in our little home over the past few weeks. We were told by the hospice nurse how my husband will die—one of two ways. A massive heart attack will take him out quickly or he’ll slowly die as his body fills up with fluid and both walking and breathing will be tremendously difficult. The latter is already happening but medications are still able to help with the fluid. That won’t always be the case.

He’s been having mild heart attacks all along, but we didn’t always know that’s what was happening. The nurse explained that the stomach ache, rib pain and chest pressure actually meant that the blood wasn’t flowing to his heart (or there was a small blood clot lingering about) and those blood vessels needed to expand to let the blood flow. A week ago he had all the symptoms and took a nitroglycerin pill for the first time. After a few minutes, all the symptoms went away. “I hate it when she’s right,” my husband growled. We both started to chuckle and sigh. But now he knows what to do and maybe he can live a bit longer.

I want more time with Wal, especially now because he’s laughing more and he wants to “do things” with me and with our son. Those “things” are now limited to taking rides and eating new foods or dishes he has always enjoyed. This is exactly what my brother did in the last years of his life, too. But if that’s all he can do, that’s ok. I’m along for the ride, no matter how long it lasts.

And yet even with that hope of a slightly longer life, we’d both rather see him have the massive heart attack. Not being able to breathe is horrible and watching him suffer is fucking awful. He’s already started to lose his freedom from not being able to get out much. Once he can’t walk, that little bit of freedom will go away completely.

This week Wal agreed to a DNR (Do Not Resuscitate order). He knows that even if he’s brought back from a heart attack, he’ll never survive the recovery of CPR—broken ribs, possible punctured lung. He also knows that if he’s conscious, he can override that DNR and tell paramedics to try and save him. If he goes to the hospital and survives, he would be removed from hospice care. But he would have the ability to get back on it later. Everything is still his choice. Nothing is set in stone. That has given him a lot of peace of mind.

Now that Wal has been under hospice care for 31 days, he’s accepted that he will die. (We know we’ll all die yet we really don’t accept it, you know?) When he agreed to the DNR, I knew something had changed in him. He started talking about probably not seeing another winter, but hopes to see the summer. He’s reached out to several friends and had a few tough conversations. And I am so, so proud of him. He’s never been great about telling his friends how much they mean to him, but he’s starting to. I love him even more for that.

Folks have been asking how our son is doing. It’s hard, no doubt. There’s a lot of anger, sadness and frustration. But also a lot of love between the three of us. He’s an adult now and if he wants to tell his story, he can. It’s his to tell, not mine. I will say that he has an INCREDIBLE group of friends who are his family. Just like many of you are mine.

For now, we are hanging in there. Looking forward to warmer temps here in central Maine and for our little road trips filled with ice cream and snacks and lots of laughter.

Thank you for listening and for those that have reached out. If I don’t respond right away, it doesn’t mean I don’t appreciate you or want to talk. Sometimes I just don’t have the emotional energy. But I appreciate all of you. Love to you all. ❤