Chapter 13 continued --

In 2008 I had my hip replaced (due to arthritis), and the recovery was fine. Then, I had the opportunity to stay at home for my recovery and spend time with Al. I treasured our time together, and even though this was not the way I wanted to spend time with him, it was appreciated. He continued to be my mentor, my sounding board, and now my nurse. I talked to mother on the phone, and Al visited my mother to make sure all was well at the nursing home. All in all, 2008 was a good year, and in regards to 2009, it was a great year.

2009 was the beginning of the end. Al and I were starting to talk about when I would retire ( since he was older than me, he already was retired) and what we would do. We had a semi plan, and we were looking forward to the days when it would be just the two of us again, at least for 3 months out of the year when we would snowbird. And then there came a day in the summer when Al coughed and he coughed blood. Alarm, not much but a trip to the doctor was in order.

In between time, my sister who lived in my hometown, died. She went into the hospital with what she thought was an asthma attack, and a week later, she died. Cancer had ravaged her body. They could not test her brain, but they thought it had gone there, and maybe that was the reason why her behavior was so bazaar. Who was once my best friend, and who later told me she hated me, was now not on this earth. My mother's baby was gone. And mother cried, and I felt I needed to be with her even more.

And during this time Al had many tests, He was diagnosed with Stage 2 Lung Cancer. Stage 2, OK. It's just the beginning. He wanted surgery. "Get it out" was his motto, and we found a surgeon at Rush in Chicago who would do minimally invasive surgery to remove the cancer from his lung. As the surgery was scheduled for October, I decided to visit my sister in Myrtle Beach to tell her about Al, and basically ask for moral support and for her to come home for a bit to be with mother.

When I got to Myrtle Beach, my sister was in the hospital. She had a colonoscopy a few days before and she ended up in the hospital. Oh, no, this can't be. Not Jackie! I called Al, and he told me to make sure she moved to a large teaching hospital. I talked with her, and her doctor diagnosed her with diverticulitis. I doubted that, but I am not a trained medical person, but I did not like what I was hearing, and Jackie was in pain. And as I sat in the hospital room, we talked. Not about Al, but about her and her life and her children. I wanted to stay there with her, I wanted to scream at the nurses and doctors to listen to me -- that she just had a colonoscopy, and they had to look at that. I wanted to be with her, to make things right. And I wanted to be with Al, and I needed to be with my mother. And I had a job to go back to. And I left Jackie, knowing her outcome was not good. Her final words to me were, "I love you, Mary, and take care of mother." She was in her husband's and doctors' hands. There was nothing I could do as a sister except be there for her, and I had to leave. And she wanted me to. I told her I would stay, and she insisted no, I had to take care of mother. She had no idea about Al, about my true intentions for the trip to visit her.

The month of October, 2010, was probably the worst of my life, and will always be the worst of my life. Jackie was dying in Myrtle Beach, and then transferred to the Medical Center in Charleston, SC, where she was basically put on life support. And Al was operated on at Rush in Chicago. One day in particular, I was spending my days in ICU at Rush with Al, and he was good, getting better, when he simply fell out. His entire body shut down, and all doctors, nurses, it seemed as if everyone was there working on him. I sat in a corner, and with tears running down my cheeks I  prayed. And Al died, and the doctors brought him back to life. I watched it all from my corner. And when I could not stay any longer and I knew that he would be on this earth tomorrow, I went back to the Marriott and called my nieces in South Carolina. My sister was dying, having a heart attack, and her body was shutting down. And I called my mother who was crying, and I called my cousin to look after my mother. And I returned to the hospital the next day, and Al was better, stronger.

And after a few weeks, Al came home with me with a diagnosis of "cancer cured". We asked about radiation, chemotherapy, and the doctor said no, he had no cancer. And we believed him.

In between time, I still had my job, and I spent as much time as I could with my mother, knowing my mother's first born was about to die. Jackie's children finally decided to let Jackie go, and they called me to say when -- on my birthday! No, no, no. So, they said, OK, the day before. Birthdays will never be filled with the same joy as before. There is nothing to celebrate except another day gone by. So, on November 15, 2009, my sister left this earth, and I sat with my mother that day. She has now lost two husbands, her house, her earthly possessions, and two of her three children. And she can't eat. I have never felt so bad for one person as her. And then, I went back to Myrtle Beach for the funeral, and then I went back and stayed home to concentrate on Al. To simply be with him and love him and enjoy his personality and how he made me feel.

That was short lived. In January, 2010, Al started complaining about his shoulder hurting. After many doctor's appointments, trips to the ER, and phone calls to medical personnel, he was again diagnosed with cancer. This time, bone cancer. I knew this was it for him. And he knew it, too. And we talked. And he went into the hospital, his children were called, and he was released from the hospital to the same nursing home my mother was in. In fact, the room next door. The doctor said he had up to 6 months. All I heard was 6 months. I believed that. I guess, I needed to believe that. But within a week of checking into the nursing home (he refused to die at home), on April 7th, I kissed him good night, and he said, "I love you, Mary", and I went home, saying I will be back tomorrow. The next day I got a call about 11 and the nurse told me to come to the hospital. I didn't understand her, and I said I would come after work. She said, no, now. It hit me, and I looked at my co-worker and said, I have to go. Tell the bosses I am leaving. I called his daughter immediately as I was driving to Al. I was there, my mother was there, Al's sister and niece were there. And Al left this earth at 1;10 pm. His daughter made it at 1;20 pm and I gave her time to be with him alone.

I will finish the ending of death and the beginning of the transition in Chapter 13 tomorrow.