(It's also 3 days since I've used the high-powered topical steroids and finally feel like myself again.)
The profound loss is still fresh for Doug - he has moments of returning to himself, but overall, he still dozes off in the early evening and sleeps until the next morning. He's admitted this is due to his depression and not wanting to feel.
I'm honestly worried about going out of town this week and leaving him, but maybe that will be good for him. He (and I am SO proud of him for this) has already scheduled to go to Chuck Duck's house to hang out Wednesday night and has Meagan coming over Thursday for a movie night. Maybe getting outside of just him and me for a longer time will help.
Yesterday, I finally organized and swept my bedroom as well as cleaned my bathroom. It did change my energy as well as the energy of the spaces for me. But, as I was sweeping my room, I - for some unknown reason - was thinking about how I had stopped cooking because it was one of the demands on my time and mental energy I could reallocate. I do miss it at times, and I started thinking about why I'd pushed (forced?) Doug to go along with weekly ordering premade meals from Cook Unity - it was because I felt like I never had time to rest when I got home between cooking, cleaning up, the multi-step process of prepping H's food/guarding it while he ate, and giving H his fluids.
This morning, I realized that if he was still with us, I would have been even more anxious about going our of town this week. I would have rushed back Friday to make sure I only missed 2 days of giving him fluids and PRAYING those two days didn't send him in a nosedive. I know because this was the freak out I was having planning for my girls' trip to New Orleans in October - which I almost didn't agree to go to because I wasn't sure what to do about the stuff I did for H that Doug didn't.
When Doug went out to smoke this morning, I talked to H. I thanked him for the gift of no longer having to worry about making sure he was ok. No longer having to bend my schedule and plans to make sure he was taken care of. But I also told him - and I mean it - that I'd happily keep doing it if it meant he was back with us. We miss him and love him.
It's these kinds of realizations and moments where I realize how complicated grief is. I do miss him, but when I realized the "freedom" (I can't think of another word) I have now, I literally felt like in those moments H was thanking me for all the time and energy I'd given him. It's like he knew and appreciated the costs we'd gone to fighting WITH him until he couldn't anymore.
Damn, I love him and miss him.
