Lurking Poison

I have been warning myself about this story because it is full of negative energy and resentment.  These passages have become one of my darkest demons; I have others, this is not the only one, but as for the illness and death of my wife, these are the horns of the beast. Thinking about not knowing what it feels like to face imminent mortality makes me reconsider, but the dark side is mighty and sucks me in.

When I was a child, my father told me that for the world to exist as we know it, everything has to be in it, including good people, bad people, murderers, victims, friendly people, crazy people, swindlers, charlatans, tyrants, etc. All these different characters made the world. At the time, I never paid attention to my father's wisdom - "Wow, Dad; you're right".  But yes, he was right.

Christina was the kindest person I have ever met. In one of her social circles, she met a lady, Lady Y, who introduced herself to her as a cultured person, a person of books, knowledgeable on the human soul, and very spiritual. Lady Y had earned Christina's trust and admiration. When Cristina told her that she was seriously ill, Lady Y offered herself as a spiritual guide. I didn't see anything wrong with this because I wanted my wife to feel supported in all aspects.

Before Christina's first operation, we invited Lady Y for dinner at home.  That night I cooked a Hungarian dinner which we all enjoyed immensely.  During our dinner social, Lady Y went straight to the point on how she was going to help my wife defeat her cancer.  She was going to accomplish that using the power of the mind through prayers, power phrases, and meditation and she was going to write a book about how she saved Christina.

"She will become famous Jose; isn't that wonderful!"

It did not sound good to me, and during my life, the first gut feeling is usually the right one.  After Lady Y left, Christina explained to me that she was a poor person, who did not make much money and that she would like to help her a little because she was going to help her; it was only fair.

"Christina, we really do not have the money, I am not going to be working while you are going through the operation.  After the operation, I am going to stay home with you.  If she wants to help, I am thankful but we cannot pay her."

My wife seemed to understand my argument. The next day I decided to talk to Lady Y to clear the air.  The conversation was friendly but awkward; we talked about the dinner; and how good it was, and then I told her that I couldn't afford to pay her for her help.  She told me that she was doing it out of the goodness of her heart and that she was not expecting any payment.  In our conversation, Lady Y returned to the subject of her book telling me that she would organize all chapters and content, and Christina would write her notes, and they would both be the authors of this book and collect the financial benefits and split the gains 50:50.  I did not like this at all and explained to Lady Y that my wife would need a lot of rest after the operation and while undergoing chemo and radiation therapy.

My argument did not convince Lady Y.  This was a big red flag about the unimaginable complications on the horizon.

Rest Well Darling

In a Toastmaster meeting after her first operation

Many years ago Christina asked me what would I say about her, and knowing that my intellect had yet to mature she preempted my response:

"Do not tell me that I am cute and wild, or that my skin is soft, or that I am a master chef.  Tell me what you really think of me; the truth".

At the time I gave her an answer.  However, her early departure has made me reflect on my words to discover that I would need a lifetime to let her know my thoughts.  I can add one more sentence every day.

Christina loved her family, her parents, and also her sisters.  She always wanted to be close to her mom and dad.  I felt great respect for those feelings because they were genuine.  She adored her dad so much that she cultivated herself in the history of the two great European wars of the XX century, and how her dad's native Hungary was affected by these events and inevitably her dad.  She wanted to write a book about her dad.

Christina would have made a great historian.  She was learned in human history from biblical times to contemporary days.  She had the skill and intuition to connect seemingly unrelated events in time.  

At home, we know how much she enjoyed the subject of Egypt.  When The Vancouver and Victoria museums had presentations of Egyptian historical artifacts she took us there.  She read every label on each artifact!  In her final days, she would watch documentaries about Egyptian rituals for the dead.  When the episode started I told Christina that we better turn it off but she told me - "No, I want to know, continue playing it".

Christina was a kind person.  She sympathized with the underdog, people in need, displaced.  Before having children we used to enjoy "dates" in Vancouver and many times she would stop to talk to street young girls -"What do you need? Are you hungry?"  Then she would buy them food.  "I cannot help them all.  Sometimes they are abused at home and they find the street trying to get away."

Christina was brave and she stood before injustice every time no matter the size of her foe.  I know; I was there to witness!

My wife adored her children; absolutely adored them.  As a mother she was exceptional.  I have instructions from her final days: make sure you love the girls for me and for you; make sure they both feel and are equal; help them in all you can.

To me, what can I say; she gave me her life.

Christina died fighting, until the last hour, the last minute, the last breath. She did not crawl down to accept her fate to give death a sweet victory and for that alone she has my admiration and devotion. I am proud to be her confidant, her friend, and her husband.

In this life, it is very clear in my mind that Christina had her right to fight for a place among us.  "To all of us upon this earth death cometh soon or late and how can someone die better than facing fearful odds, for the ashes of our families and the temples of our Gods"*.

Rest well Christina; I will be honored to lay by your side, as always, when my time comes.

Colophon

* Adaptation from Horatius by Thomas Babington Macaulay, Lays of Ancient Rome.

Year One

 

We miss you so much, Christina.

I remember looking at Christina from a distance while she worked in her garden not knowing that the instance would not be infinite.  It is one of my favorite memories of her. She always reminded me of a little girl playing in the mud, so innocent, absorbed in whatever she had in between her fingers.  I loved her. "So busy planting, creating, taking care of her universe."

Now she lives in this space.

While I work from home, every hour or so I take a little break and visit the garden, where she would be taking care of her plants. I do my best to look after them to honor her memory but also to feel her presence next to me.

My daydream includes my wife in the same physical space as me because she was there; on the same ground, at different times.

I remember long ago I told my wife that I kiss the ground she walks on and she replied to that "You better go to the garden and start kissing!"

The Hardest

 

During the almost 27 years of marriage, and almost 30 of getting to know each other, Christina and I talked about death very few times.  Most of the time it was I who brought the subject up.  Christina never liked these conversations to which she would tell me that I was strange and if she did not know that I was Hispanic, perhaps would have stepped away from me.  That is how much she did not like the subject, but since I brought it up her answer was always to fight for life as hard as we could; that was the plan, never to unplug, never to give up, and if the inevitable was about to happen then home would be the place to end the journey and stat the next.  

Earlier in the year, Christina had a meeting with her family doctor. Her extended family and I were present at that meeting. When her doctor asked her what she wanted to do near the end, she refused to speak or give an answer. At that moment we looked at each other and I gave her my approval by nodding and looking her in her eyes. I knew what to do: we do not talk about death; we fight for life.

My advice to anyone in the same situation is to follow your heart and never doubt.  However, in our case; the promise stood. Promises are meant to be kept, especially the ones Christina and I made to each other.  For this reason alone; the promise I made, as hard and difficult as it might be, was sacred.

The palliative team assigned to Christina while at home during her final days was extremely professional and very supportive of our plight and her wishes.  The most difficult for me was not my dedication to the care of my dying wife but pushing back on well-wishers insisting on taking Christina into a hospice.  To them, I always said "no" but this was not always easy because the pressure on me to take her into the hospice was extreme.   In my negative, I used to tell them that the only way I could remove my promise was if I was not providing her with the care she required.  

In situations when a person is facing the end of life at home palliative nurses assist the family during the care.  We were receiving this help.  Because I was concerned that Christina could not be receiving the proper care by me, as I am not a trained nurse, I requested that palliative doctors would inspect my post regularly to assess the care she was receiving.  These inspections went through the schedule of medications, her vitals, the condition of her body...  Christina died without a single bed sore.  Because I was handling strong narcotics I would even keep records of used syringes to account for every single milligram.  Sometimes two doctors would attend these inspections and their answer was always supportive of me in defending Christina's wishes.

I would have given my own life to save hers, but it does not work like that.  The hardest thing I have ever done was to fight for my wife's life and I do not regret it one little bit and would do it again.

I would like to believe that at the end of my journey I will reunite with my wife.  At that time, we will have a "post mortem" and she herself will tell me if I met her expectations.

What is The Meaning of All of This?

The answer to this question has been tormenting me since my wife started her journey into the stars.  I did not have time to think about this while we were both racing for life through these fields.  We are all meant to transcend when the time arrives but to perish buried in the thickest pain is horrifying.  The pain of leaving children so young in life, departing so soon with many promises left without fulfilling.  Just thinking about this my head spins.

Should we forget or should we not? Do I feel that I want to? Do we select memories to keep and others to avoid? Is it possible? 

By June 14th, 2021, my wife had been nonresponsive for almost a week.  She could not take any liquids or solids; she was readying for her journey.  Doctors tell me that her body was shutting down with low brain activity.  Her health had deteriorated so much that the time had come to provide her "comfort" with medication through subcutaneous ports set by a palliative nurse.  I was in charge of providing her medications every few hours.  For me this job was a sacred duty, keeping a rigorously strict schedule not to miss her next dosages.  I did this 24/7 and to this day I have no idea where that strength came from, but I was not tired.  

She was dying in front of us but I was hoping for a miracle; which never came in the form I wanted.

In the middle of all this adversity; I believe her mind was still functioning.  Perhaps she thought of our voices as if they were part of dreams.  I asked my younger daughter to play music with her clarinet every day.  She played "Pirates Of the Caribbean", "Game Of Thrones", "Harry Potter", and many other tunes and melodies that they both loved.  Christina, although laying on a hospital bed installed in our home completely immobile, seemed serene and tranquil while listening to the music our daughter was playing.  I know she was listening because we both had always a strong connection that transcends the senses and as I looked at her I knew she was listening.

I shared my life with my wife completely, and fully, and her final days are part of that.  We always thought that I was going to be the first one to commence the final journey and had her promise that she would be there for me until the final instance... but, it did not end that way.