Tuesday, July 7, 2020

Phil's journey with Astrocytoma continues

Waiting for the inevitable is unbearable and the emotions are unfathomable.  Phil, Noelle and I are on a journey filled with pain, love and courage.  

As Phil continues to slip from us, we learn more about ourselves and the humanity inside of us.

Phil is the most courageous, loving person I have ever met, and my heart could not be breaking more.  I would wish this on not a single soul.  He is now taking very little sustenance and amazingly is still having moments that he is very cognizant.  Other moments he is in another world.

His words that resound in my ear are, "I love you too".  He continues to respond to both Noelle and I when we tell him we love  him.  Occasionally he will get an a cute smile or a ornery look on  his face when he feels love from others or thinks something is funny.

It has been a gradual decline each day he is weaker and more distant.  The palliative guide that the gave me when we left UCSF for brain tumor patients has been spot on.  What I thought was horrifying and I would never be able to get through,  Noelle and I have made through a moment at a time.

I want to thank everyone who made his birthday special.  The day before his birthday he had a nice day and he loved all the cards and gifts.  I could see that each one has meant something to him.   Not to mention they were uplifting to Noelle and myself too.  Our "team" is wonderful and we thank you. 

It seems that love is all there is and being there for each other.  As Phil's cancer progressed and it began robbing  him of himself, what is important and what is not became more obvious.  Friendship and family hold us up, support and gratitude to get us through.  Phil began to have trust issues and seemed to have a keen sense of what was going on around him the last few months.  He explored himself, he loved us and he choose his path.  From the beginning he told me that he wanted to run this part of his journey, do it his way so to speak.  I feel that he was making  himself happy and we helped him do that.

Our happiest times have been our walks and our time by the ocean.  He has not been able to see the ocean in a long time, but my hope is when peace comes to him, he gets to sit by a shore somewhere.  I will never look at the ocean and not be filled with his very being.

We have been reading to him, sharing memories and kissing him constantly.  I'm sure Noelle and I tell him at least one hundred times a day that he is loved.  

I'm changed at this experience, I'm sure Noelle is too.  Horrific and wonderful all wrapped into one.

Thank you again to each one of you for your support and love.  I have missed some of my thank you notes in the last couple of months, know that it is not because I am not appreciative just busy.

One minute at a time we forge forward.





3 comments:

  1. Praying for you all every day. We are thankful to have known him and seen him so joyfully happy. That gleam in his eye will always be remembered. Hope for peace and love to continue the rest of his days

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  2. I've been quietly checking in on you during this process, and really feel for you three. Coincidentally, a good friend of mine is going through an almost identical process with her husband (also with terminal brain tumor)in on the east coast.They have a young child. I know you have the courage to see this through; I wish you as much peace and strength as you need to sustain you and your loved ones.

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    1. Thank you Jean, I appreciate your kindness. if your friend wants to connect, I would be more than happy to chat with her.
      Linda

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