Flashback to Cindy and Stephanie and the Rest of You!

I caught a very welcome glimpse of my Brian this morning, as he razzed Mary, the hospice nurse. He was a total crack-up, and she got a good laugh. I smiled and felt that warm feeling of knowing he was dishing out what is normally reserved for his beloved secretaries, Cindy and Stephanie...and the rest of you, too. It was nice, very nice. The Halley charm is still there, buried beneath the misery his body has dealt him...but it is still there. It gives me goosebumps to be reminded that the man I fell in love with is still there. His suffering and disease has masked the Brian we know, but it has not taken him away. One more day, I had hoped for...

So Brian has been higher than a kite (lots of drugs). He seems to have come back down off of that as the day progressed, and enjoyed the day with his dad, while I took care of some errands that were past due. He has been babbling wildly, and is often in and out of what is making sense..even enough for him to realize, so he has joked about it. The hospice nurse asked him if he had been nauseated. He responded that yes, he had been sleeping a lot. Then she asked him if he had been watching t.v. (the t.v. was off). He asked...is this part of the test? She said...what test? He said...the test you are giving me to find out if I know what I'm talking about. She said...well, no, I just know you are almost always watching t.v., and I just wondered. He said...well, nope, I've been too sleepy. He later told her his name was Pablo. She looked puzzled. He just rested and we smiled and shrugged our shoulders. Then he said...I'm just kidding. (duh...I guess that was from Backyardigans). She was kind of caught off guard because since she met us back on the 7th, he has either been crying, sleeping, or staring off into space. I was going about my other business while she was making adjustments to his pump, and I could hear them just laughing and carrying on.

This morning when his dad arrived, he said something like...can you make me some coffee? He jumped up to make it, and I said...I would have gotten you some coffee if you said you wanted it. He said...that's ok, we need to put him to work. Last night he was trying to figure out if the Bernstein Bears on t.v. were marionettes. Most of the conversations are returning to somewhat normal, although I do think his senses are out of whack...hearing, sight...he is almost overstimulated by his surroundings, and it takes a bit to figure out what all is going on.

All in all, today was a good day, especially having spent the day with Phillip. It felt good to get out of the house. I find it hard to drag myself away. So many have offered, and please don't feel like I don't want you to help...I really just want to be here with Brian. The days are precious, the moments slipping away, and I want to take in every bit of the life of Brian Halley that my heart and mind will let me.

We continue to be inundated with kindness. Phillip even commented today that he continues to be amazed by what everyone has done. Lasagna/salad/cookies came tonight from one of the home health nurses...a large quantity of groceries from a group of friends...an huge meal last night (per Rachel and Amberlea's requests)...more meals coming daily, which help us sustain our family time and some sense of normalcy.

Thank you for your continued prayers. Please continue to keep our children in your prayers in a special way. Rachel isn't talking too much, Amberlea is battling a stomach ache and crying, and Tye is trying to take in this whole Heaven deal.

I know that 2008 is going to be our roughest one yet. I say that even after the 2005 diagnosis, my mom's death in 2006, the nonstop melanoma battle of 2007...for me, I view it this way...Brian was there for all of those moments, so nothing could be as difficult as facing life without him, although I know it will be better for him. He can't live like this, in misery. He has always been so full of life, and nearly every aspect of that wonderful life has been ripped away.

Nonetheless, I genuinely wish you all a blessed year, full of memories, good health, and precious moments. I do see a brief glimpse of what it will actually feel like to beat melanoma, because ultimately, that time is coming. This disease can't keep hurting us. The beast is not in control. I have said I feel like a failure, but I also sometimes for a brief moment think that I feel somewhat of a triumphant feeling, knowing that the suffering will end, and the melanoma has no control over Brian's salvation.

Thank you for sharing our journey...