This week is finally in the books. Unfortunately in my scheduled return to work program my doctor had increased my working hours for this week. When we’d done up the schedule I hadn’t really looked at the calendar, it had been a matter of blocks of time. The first two weeks you work this many hours, the next two weeks increase to this many hours; that was how we had approached my return to work. I hadn’t looked at the actual calendar, and even if I had, I likely would have thought ‘no problem, I can do this.’ I couldn’t though, and consequently I didn’t quite meet the increased hours. I nearly got there. I’ll try again next week and see if I can hit the target.
Every single day I woke up just as tired as when I went to bed. It didn’t matter if I got four hours of sleep or eight, it just didn’t feel like enough. The alarm would go off and it was almost unbearable to think about getting out of bed and going in to work. There was just no motivation to do anything. It was a week of a lot of reflection and thought about what happened and how quickly things changed. There was a point – it was Wednesday – where I thought, this time last year we were oblivious to Kevin’s disease, a mere hour later I would be taking him to the hospital and that was when the crevasse opened and claimed my husband.
Try as I may to avoid dwelling on things I can’t change, I can’t change the fact that all I want to do is think about things I would do differently. If I could. I so wish that life offered do-overs. That by some fluke we had of picked up on his disease when it was still treatable. Lung cancer tends to fly under the radar until it is advanced stages, and it stayed true to this path in Kevin’s case. He was so brave throughout his journey, which makes me feel so weak by comparison. I don’t know if I could ever be as brave as him. He was peace and love right to his last breath. My Kevin.
His was a good soul, a very good soul.