Christmas Day 2024XX

The date was 12/25/2024. Yes, Christmas Day. As a day in Florida it was remarkably average. No bright sunshine, no extreme heat or humidity and very few RV guests in the RV Park (Sunkissed) we’re living in.  Our lives have changed so dramatically over the last 12-months.

Presently I’m sleeping in my recliner and Carla, unfortunately, has taken up residence in her hospital bed in our front room, thanks to Hospice, as a result of her battle with cancer. The last 3-months have been particularly difficult for her. Her bone cancer metastasized to her liver, which controls many of the bodies motor functions. One of her doctors back then, had answered her question, as we were viewing a scan of her liver; How Long do I have? She was not looking for a sugar-coated answer, and the Doctor realized that. He said,” quite frankly you’ll see 2025 but it’s doubtful on how much longer. “How difficult is is to wake up and try to wish each other a Merry Christmas under these circumstances. After all, it’s something we’ve been doing for 35-years. But, none-the-less, we say the words. Carla, at this stage, was restricted to either laying flat on her back, or with some help, laying on her side.We had barely opened a gift or two, when, as expected, the Ozdarski family called to wish us a Merry Christmas. It was a very typical phone call that the Ozdarsky’s make on birthdays as well. Carla tried very much to keep up with the conversations, but the last 3-weeks she’d been finding it easier to stay with 2-3 word sentences, today would not be any different.

After a few minutes I could see Carla was getting tired of trying to keep up with all that was being said, so she said our good-byes. I had barely hung up the phone when Carla asked if she could take a short nap, which was not uncommon.

Carla sleeps Christmas Afternoon

In the meantime, I busied myself by moving the small amount of gifts to under the tree and to the sides of the room to help foot traffic. Without realizing it the time had gotten to be around 3pm, but all was well, Carla was sleeping calmly. It was just then that she began to stir a little so I went over to her to help in any way I could. To my surprise she opened her eyes and for the first time in months they were bright and shiny, I could not believe how pretty and rested she looked. Within a few seconds she called me over closer. I could tell she was going to ask for something. She began to  speak and immediately said how much she loved me, and I casually replied back how much I loved her too. She continued; I can see and hear all that you are doing for me and I want to thank you for all your work. Not letting me slip in a word or two, she continued. You’ve done so much for me and I appreciate it so much. You’ve even moved in next to me, thank you. I was going to interject and word or two, but she continued. “Right now I must close my eyes, I love you, and she closed her eyes. I was concerned. It’s been months since I’ve seen her so bright eyed. And surprisingly her voice was clear and not gargled as it had been for the past few weeks. And then I remembered her words; I must close my eyes. In all our 35-years, I have never heard her use those words; “Right now I must close my eyes”. Her talk to me was short, organized and right to the point. I began to think again about the tone of her voice, very sharp and clear. For someone who, for 3-weeks was having difficulty describing how she felt, or if she wanted water, I began thinking what exactly might have just happen here. Knowing Carla, it was as though she had a discussion with, let’s say Michael the Archangel (who delivers the dead) and she ask him for just one minute to say good bye. Sounds like she might have won. Her word structure and looks gave me the impression that she had moved out of the claws of cancer for that one minute, so she could give her final good-bye to me. What I did not expect was that she would close her eyes this Christmas Day and never re-open them again. How emotionally hard that was to know she was in her body and all the caretakers were saying she can hear all that is going on but she is trapped in her coma.

Continuously caring for Carla, most times on my, own thanks to the hapless Hospice company I contracted with, I had so much  time to think and pray. She was working so hard to breath, making that deathly gasping sound. At times I could help her a bit, by repositioning her body but the last 2-days she just would not cooperate. In desperation, as in so many other times, I called the after-hours hospice line she told me I’d probably done all I could, and the end may be near. This was such a lousy dilemma to be in. If I truly wanted her to live, which I did, she would exist as a breathing body only. On the other hand I reluctantly felt this may be  a good time to separate the time she has left with ore prayers, something I’ve accepted, will not be an option in my last days.