"Expiration: 3-17-10 Do not double"

I've been pretty swamped with BRICKS related work lately, and Ive been lucky to have the assistance of a couple of wonderful helpers. But in my day to day life, the one where Im left figuring out how to fix things or how Im going to pay to fix something, the offers of help have waned since the days immediately following my husband's death.

In the days and weeks right after a major life changing event, people flock to you, come at you from all sides offering everything from food to housework to money. A lot of times these well intentioned offers are completely unsolicited and absolutely sincere. For me, in those first few weeks, maybe even months, I didnt know WHAT I needed. All I knew for sure was that there were things I wasnt ready to do or deal with, and that Id let people know when that time came. I didnt realize that time would be nearly a year and a half later. Back then I couldnt bear the thought of cataloguing my husband's art work or packing up his supplies. It took me months to pack up his clothes and even to this day some of his things remain exactly where he left them.

With so much time gone by, I feel as though those offers of help may not be redeemable. Sure, people still care about me and my situation, but I often feel like those not living with the loss in the way I am probably dont understand why Im not "all better" or "back to normal" by now. They probably cant comprehend how absolutely immobilizing approaching some of these tasks may be. Can I paint the kitchen ceiling by myself? Sure. Can I do it without remembering Rick on a ladder patching the hole in it? No. Do I need someone to say "Todays the day we paint this ceiling!"? Maybe.

My question to you, dear readers is: When you offer to help someone, does that offer ever expire? Do you offer out of obligation or sincere willingness to help when needed? Do you feel like people dealing with a loss, diagnosis, or other life altering event lose their right to cash in the help coupon after a certain period of time?

To those of you on the same end of this situation as me, what has your experience been with this? Have you found areas where you realized you needed help well after your life changing event? How have you reminded people they offered help once, and have you been successful in receiving it?

Please share your thoughts on this, Id love to hear from everyone!

"Widow" is not a dirty word.

It came to my attention very recently that the term "widow" is not an option on Myspace when selecting a "Status" option in the general user info. Im really bothered by this because I feel that the other options dont apply to me. That being said, I feel like I need to reclaim the words "widow/widower".

I think people are afraid of it/us. Sure, our new status is difficult and comes with a lot of work to do. That doesnt mean we are some strage, mysterious creature, not the be trusted or gotten close to. I like to think that it says I was a part of a loving, special relationship, that ended not by choice but by circumstance.

To my friends I say, "Believe me." When I tell you I am ok you MUST trust that at that very moment I am. Every day is new as I work through this. I have good days and bad days. Some days all I do is smile when I think of my husband, other days I can only cry. This doesnt mean that when I tell you I am ok, Im really lying or covering up my feelings to spare you the details. It simply means that I am ok. Not awesome, not wonderful, not wallowing in misery. When those times come I hope you'll be there too, but when Im ok trust me and let me be ok for as long as it lasts.

To the cancer community I say, "Dont ignore me." Bereaved spouses seem to have so few resources. Sure, my partner's story may not be an American Cancer Society commercial waiting to happen, but its mine, and it connects me to the larger community of those dealing with cancer in so many capacities. Im not going to rain on your parade of positivity, nor is my "widowdom" any more contagious than the cancer that put me here. I shouldnt get kicked out of the club because my story didnt have the happiest ending. Its still a story of hope, love, trust and living.

Being a widow is now a part of my story, a learning experience that makes me who I am. I learned this acceptance from my husband- that every experience has value, and it only has the power over you that you give it. It has happened, you have no choice but to accept it, so now what do you do with it?

You all already know my answer to that.

What now, not what if

Its an inevitable temptation, to ask questions-

What if Rick had health insurance?

What if he had a stem cell transplant last summer?

What if he was still alive?

We can ponder the answers and never come to any real conclusion, which truly, now, doesnt even matter. I've found in the last several weeks that I have to avoid the lure of thinking about these things, and focus more on a bigger question- What now?

This blog is the first step in answering that question.

There are many reasons why young adult cancer has lower survival rates than other demographic groups, one of which being that young adults are more often un- or underinsured. I can not say with any certainty that our family's outcome would have been different had Rick had health insurance (his doctor was amazing and made every option possible available to us), but we did learn how difficult it is to find health insurance or help paying for medications. Beyond that, lack of insurance coverage contributes to late diagnosis, which also impacts outcomes for young adults with cancer. 

So, now, it is our responsibility to advocate on behalf of those young adults for better health care options and access to care, to raise awareness of young adult cancers and the unique needs of those affected by it. The challenge is access- access to care, access to resources, access to each other.  As opportunities to get involved arise, I will post them here, so please check back often.