I don't remember what the temperature was on July 6, 1994, but I can tell you it was my 25th wedding anniversary and my husband sent me flowers - beautiful roses. I trained him well. Just a few short years before that he was still running to Wegman's grocery store for those "blue" flowers as I call them. You know, they sit on the floor at all major stores just waiting for the husband or boyfriend that suddenly remembers your birthday or anniversary. Just in case some of you men out there are reading this - they are the flowers that live and breathe in a flower shop and are delivered or hand-carried (in a long box).
John had gone to the doctor that day because he was not feeling well. This in itself was a major event as he would complain, but actually going to the doctor was another story. If I were ill, he would almost pick me up and carry me there. I always had to wait for him to hurt enough so that he would say, "Make the appointment."
We didn't make any plans to celebrate our anniversary. In the last few years we just took the day as it came.
Although I saw his car in the driveway, I knew something was wrong before I opened the door. As I walked in, I saw John sitting on the sofa. He said, "You better sit down." I didn't question it - I just did it. His next words were "I have two brain tumors and they are inoperable!" I just sat there - don't know how long. Although it was minutes before I looked up, it seemed like hours, and he continued the story. He had gone to the doctor and because of his symptoms the doctor decided to send him to a specialist. They took all kinds of x-rays and other tests and it was conclusive.
By Friday, July 8th we had our second and third opinions, and they did not change the verdict. As we sat in the doctor's office, John said, "You're telling me I have a minimum of six months to one year to live." The doctor didn't deny or agree with John's interpretation. He just moved on discussing more details of the situation. As I sat there, I started to feel my mind just kind of leave my body. I believe it was God holding on to me and filling me up with the strength that I could not imagine I was going to need. I had spent twenty-five years with this man, and suddenly I was put in a position to start thinking what it would be like without him. I spent the evening calling certain family members and friends to let them know our situation. John stayed to himself, watched television or at least he was sitting in front of the television. That night we held each other a long time before going to sleep. We never had to say much to each other in order to understand. People always talk about falling asleep in each other's arms, like in the movies. Well, we weren't play-acting when we fell asleep that way. Part of me hoped that both of us would just not wake up. Our weekends started to design themselves into isolation. John could not stand much company; he would become agitated and I would direct the people traffic.
As he became more distant to others he got closer and more dependent on me.
There came a time when John would be in the hospital for a week or couple of days and then he would come home. Hospital times were the most difficult. I think those times made me realize just how sick he was. When he was home I could create our world. I think February 1995 was his last weeklong hospital visit. He would go back one more time but just for a few hours. This time the doctor asked me to step out in the hall. His voice was soft, but direct - "We can only keep him comfortable now." I stood there looking at him, waiting for anything in his manner that would tell me this was not it. Before I could collect my thoughts, he said, "It's time to call in hospice." I felt my knees buckle but I didn't go all the way down. I steadied myself and stood by while the doctor made the arrangements and John came home.
We were so blessed with family and friends. Everyone just seems to have his or her own role - definitely not assigned by us. No one duplicated anything; they just showed up or called at the right time.
We had several home aides but the one I remember because she didn't pull any punches. Whenever something happened that I could not understand she explained thoroughly and always preceded it with, "This is probably going to make you cry, Michele, but you need to know it." Because of her I was able to see things, do things that I could never have imagined I would be doing. Changing sheets after they were blood soaked, giving morphine like it was aspirin. Well, if you are suddenly remembering that I am in recovery, you are right. This was no easy task, and believe me I know that I did not walk that path alone.
As I look back, I remember a month or so before his diagnosis that John would hold my hand in the car. This was very unusual. He really did not believe in public display of affection, and I knew it was a clue to something but never in my wildest dreams did I expect his. I talked with counselors about it later and they told me how being connected in any physical sense is important to someone who is ill, and he probably was feeling afraid and did not know of any other way to reach out to me. Sometime before 4:00 a.m. on April 4. 1995, I heard the most horrendous sound I have ever heard; it was coming from John. I have since learned that they call it the "death rattle." The sound that came from John would not stop. I held him in my arms, and as I pressed myself close to him, I whispered in his ear: "John, I love you, the kids love you, and we are going to be all right." I kept repeating that until I no longer heard the sound. I thank God every day for those few moments. When the sound stopped, I still held his hand. The doorbell rang, someone answered it and it was the nurse. She came over and checked and said Mrs. Humeston, your husband has passed away. I still ask people about things I did during that time. They gently share with me all my actions and reactions. It is important for me to know because I never want to feel like I didn't exist. I knew I existed days after he died when my heart actually hurt. I got through that time somehow. I cannot give you all the details of that morning. I know that people started coming to the house. God has a way of protecting us when we least expect it. There have been many changes in my life in the last fifteen years, some good, some bad, but all were necessary.
Keywords: anniversaries, wedding, death and dying
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Our Last Wedding Anniversary