My family had planned to take me back to Louisiana for a couple of weeks right after the funeral. I was gonna help my son sail his newly purchased sailboat from Destin, FL to New Orleans, which we all thought would be good for me. But at the very last minute before leaving I declined. The last six months, especially Paul’s last 2 weeks here with me, followed by the frenzied week of funeral arrangements, have taken its toll. Total extreme exhaustion. I just wanted to be still and quiet. Me and Rocky. I asked them all to just go back to their busy lives and “love me alone” for a bit. Thankfully they understood and two days after the funeral everyone was gone.
It’s Saturday, quiet, peaceful. So I rest, cry, nap, pray. Walk around the house in a daze, unaware of why I opened the refrigerator, what am I looking for in there? Oh, yeah, creamer for my coffee. Rocky needs to go outside, we go. Later I wonder why the creamer is on the counter. Oh yeah, for the coffee, but it’s cold now. An hour later I find the mug still in the microwave, cold again. I’m spinning in circles, can’t seem to do anything. When I’m awake I’m flitting around the house, restless, fidgety. Looking for anything to do. Clean something! I open his dresser drawer thinking I could start the inevitable process. Nope. Slam it shut. Can’t do that now, might not ever be able to do that. Is this what grieving is? Guess so.
Feels like a panic attack!! I need focus. Distraction. My brain begins thinking of our RV dreams. Oh, that feels good! I get tunnel vision thoughts about RVing. Heart races but in a good feeling way. I remember that right after the tumor diagnosis I had trashed “all” the RV paper stuff and deleted all RV bookmarks and favorites in both of our computers-----I was so angry then.
But wait…in a few months this lease will be up and I’ll have to move “somewhere”. Why not into an RV? Afterall, I had discussed this with my brother and my kids during “funeral week” knowing at the time that I was probably just ranting out of my mind. But, was I? Could I really do it by myself? Pulse is racing. Adrenalin is pumping me higher. I’m excited! Feel happy. That’s a new feeling. I “escape” back into our dream.
So late Saturday night I Google the old RV forum we used to follow; find it, [http://www.tiffinrvnetwork.com], sign in, and post this:
Post subject: Should I give up my dream?
It's been a long time since my last post on this forum, or on any forum. It was on Sept. 17, 2010 entitled "Tomato juice changed my font size?" I just read it again and it felt so good to laugh out loud at all of your humorous responses! You're a terrific group of strangers!
Back then in Sept. 2010 my hubby Paul and I had already spent almost 2 years planning our retirement for a full-time RV lifestyle, collecting info on our dream RV---a 2010 Allegro Bus 43 QGP. Our plans were that as soon as our house sold we would both immediately retire from Continental Airlines and hit the road. Well, on Nov. 15, 2010 (6 months ago) our retirement dreams were shattered when Paul was diagnosed with a terminal brain tumor, followed one week later (on his 60th birthday) with a massive stroke. Ironically, our home sold 2 days after I brought him home from the first hospitalization. I moved us into a leased house nearer the Houston medical facilities where he went thru chemo, radiation, and numerous complications. Then finally 2 months ago Hospice Care entered our lives. I'm so glad that I was able to keep him at home with me the whole time.
Today is Saturday. I buried my precious Paul only 2 days ago in the Houston National Cemetery with full military honors after serving 31 years. He is now in heaven with his only child, Eric, who was killed in Afghanistan 3 summers ago. It's finally very quiet here tonight; now that the funeral is behind us, and both of our families have gone home to their busy lives.
A sad story, I know. But crazy as it must seem to even perfect strangers, I still want to live "our" dream. Paul never wanted me to give it up, and worried himself sick wondering if he should encourage me or not. Naturally, when we got the diagnosis, I trashed our RV dreams immediately to focus on him.
I know I'm probably still in shock right now. But luckily I do have about 6 months before I will be forced to make some firm decisions. My 3 children with 9 grandkids, along with numerous other family members (his and mine) and lots of friends are scattered from coast to coast. They know me, (I am sort of spunky) and are all telling me to "Go for it!, It was your dream too!" My only brother has offered to install a concrete RV pad with septic, electric, and water on some property that our father left us near my hometown of Lafayette, Louisiana, so I would always have a sort of home base to go to very near lots of family. So I do have my family's support, but NONE of them know anything about RV'ing!!
I just need some input from folks who are living the lifestyle. Should I just quit the dream? Should I continue to gather info on, of course, a smaller, cheaper, and easier to handle model by Tiffin? And if so, which model? Can a 59 year old single (although "spunky") woman with a small 3 year old Havanese dog who is now my "grief therapy device" do this?
Thanks,
Carleen
P.S. A couple of months ago I needed an outlet so I created a blog titled "Abundant Blessings Found In Shattered Dreams". Here's the link (if you're bored): http://carleen-abundantblessings.blogspot.com/
In no time the next day I got about 30 responses: “Go For It!” Along with lots of good advice. I was pumped!!
So late Sunday night, I posted back, all excited, adrenalin flowing:
I am truly overwhelmed. Thank you all so much for taking the time to respond. Some of you posted excellent points and questions that I do need to consider. Here's a bit more info that may help YOU to guide me.
I've been a flight attendant for the last 20 years (so I love traveling), and prior to that was a firefighter/EMT in Rio Rancho, NM (near Albuquerque) where I drove fire trucks and ambulances for years. So I'm not afraid of a big rig and probably would have arm-wrestled Paul to get my turn at the wheel!! In fact we have rented RV's and I drove almost as much as Paul. Being a 737 pilot and a Navy jet instructor, at first Paul "nonchalantly hovered" close by whenever I was at the wheel. He soon relaxed and was very proud of me. That felt so good coming from him! He was my hero and my biggest fan. The only thing that terrifies me are toll booths. I always gave him the wheel then, and still kept my eyes squeezed shut while he drove thru with such calm confidence. He was always so very cautious and would handle any situation with such capable and amazing focus. And he never ever displayed that well known "pilot-ego". (He used to always tell new acquaintances that he was just a "heavy equipment operator"! He was just that kind of guy.) So I gotta work on "tollbooths" or maybe just totally avoid them with my GPS. "Check lists"--- Haha, Paul laminated them! "Toad"---Now driving a Toyota Sienna van---we knew we'd have to trade it for an appropriate "toad". He had been researching toads---wish he had told me which one he wanted. "Tools"---I was the mechanic! He could fly fighter jets and commercial airplanes but used to joke that he didn't know the difference between a phillips or regular screwdriver! I think he just said that to make me feel good. Before we had met, when I was 40, freshly divorced, and just beginning my career as a flight attendant I bought a small sailboat that I lived on full-time and sailed and maintained it alone for 3 years. So I'm accustomed to "small" living. The Tiffin Breeze is just too small for me as I hope I'll often have friends or family joining me. But I won't let being solo stop me from going anywhere once I'm confident. And I don't want to have to "trade-up" later, too costly and a hassle. We'd been doing a LOT of research and forum-lurking. So...flat tire, stranded, engine problem...call CoachNet. [Time for a break from typing and maybe a nap.]
I just re-read this post for proofing and got this real sad feeling about the whole idea.
It wasn't just my dream, it was OUR dream. One minute I get all excited about the prospect and then the next minute I'm hit with the true reality that Paul won't be there with me. And my excitement collapses. He's gone. I shouldn't be thinking about this right now. It's too soon. Maybe my mind is doing this to escape the grief, even momentarily. But then reality pokes my brain and stabs my heart. Slow down, Carleen, take it easy. Don't let this dream become a "mental detour" from the grief and pain. I just find my mind flitting around in circles, like I'm going crazy or something. He's REALLY REALLY gone and NEVER EVER coming back. And I can't run away from that. This is a roller coaster. Maybe I'll feel better tomorrow.
Thanks,
Carleen
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So now it’s Monday afternoon. I’m waiting for tomorrow. And this day is only half over. Wish I could fast-forward about 6 months. So tired. Think I’ll take a nap.
Monday, May 30, 2011
Monday, May 23, 2011
Paul Hunter Terhune
Commander Paul Hunter Terhune, United States Navy Reserves, of Conroe, Texas died peacefully on Saturday, May 21, 2011, at his home in Conroe, Texas. He is survived by his beloved wife, Carleen Marks Terhune, his parents, Daniel and Joy Terhune, of Lexington, Kentucky and his brother, Dr. David (Dorothy) Terhune, nieces Summer (Oliver) Jeromin, Kendall (Richard) Colquitt, and Rebecca Joy Terhune and his nephew David Terhune, Jr., and five great nieces and nephews. He is also survived by three stepchildren, Christa White, Brady (Michelle) White, and Benjamin (Shawna) White, and 9 step- grandchildren.
He was preceded in death by his only son, Captain Eric Daniel Terhune, a Marine helicopter pilot who was killed in action in Afghanistan on June 19, 2008. Captain Eric Terhune had previously served two tours of duty in support of Operation Iraqi Freedom. He served honorably for more than 10 years of active duty service to County and Corps.
Commander Paul Terhune was born in Brownwood, Texas on November 23, 1950. He grew up in Kentucky and attended Wheaton Academy in Wheaton, Illinois and graduated from Admiral Farragut Academy in St. Petersburg, Florida. He received a BA degree in History from Western Kentucky University, and was commissioned a 2nd Lieutenant in the Marine Corps upon graduation. He then earned his Navy wings at Pensacola, Florida. His career as a military pilot spanned 31 years before retiring from the Naval Reserve.
Commander Terhune spent two years in Okinawa early in his career and is one of the few airmen who served in all three sea services, the Marine Corps, the Coast Guard, and the Navy. His citations include and reflect his patriotism.
His career apart from the military was with Continental Airlines for 23 years from which he retired on November 23, 2010.
Paul Is Flying With The Angels Now
I feel empty of words. The best I can do right now is just plainly present the information about the services to honor Paul's life.
Wednesday, May 25, Visitation 5:00-8:00pm at the funeral home.
Thursday, May 26, Service at 10:00am, Burial at Houston National Cemetary 11:30am (across the street from funeral home)
American Heritage Funeral Home
10710 Veterans Memorial Drive
Houston, TX 77038
(281)445-0050
Immediately following the service and burial a reception will be held at:
Landry's Seafood Restaurant
1212 Lake Robbins Drive
The Woodlands, TX 77380
Wednesday, May 25, Visitation 5:00-8:00pm at the funeral home.
Thursday, May 26, Service at 10:00am, Burial at Houston National Cemetary 11:30am (across the street from funeral home)
American Heritage Funeral Home
10710 Veterans Memorial Drive
Houston, TX 77038
(281)445-0050
Immediately following the service and burial a reception will be held at:
Landry's Seafood Restaurant
1212 Lake Robbins Drive
The Woodlands, TX 77380
Wednesday, May 18, 2011
All Is In God's Hands, Always Has Been
It's Tuesday, May 17, 9:52p.m.
I have no idea how to write this post. There's no "sample template" available to help me even just begin to write. It's the second most unpleasant post I could ever imagine composing, with the #1 most unpleasant post being the one I'll have to send when Paul finally joins Eric in heaven.
........Geesh, I've just been sitting here for a long long time now just looking at this page......It's blank, I'm blank.......
Ahhhhh, if he could, I can imagine Paul saying, "Yeah, ok, it's tough, so get going! Do what ya gotta do."
Some of you have said that I write well. Not this time. Nope. I just don't feel clever or smart enough anymore. So I'll just have to do it.
Paul has quickly become very sick in the last few days. It started with a little chest congestion and a low-grade fever one night. Every breath was labored with gurgling sounds. His blood pressure dropped, and his pulse was 135. The congestion developed into full blown pneumonia almost overnight. As of tonight (Tuesday, May 17) it has been three days since he has been able to eat or drink, and the last word I've heard him speak was "No" three days ago when I had asked him if he was hurting. The first day he slept until 4:00pm without awakening at all. The congestion was gurgling louder and louder with every breath he had taken during the previous 24 hours. I could hear the gurgling from the kitchen. Naturally I'm scared. Emergency phone call to Elaine, our hospice nurse/angel. She arrives minutes later, completes her triage. She makes phone calls. Within 20 minutes, equipment begins being delivered to our front door: a nebulizer to ease his breathing, powerful antibiotics are delivered, oxygen tanks, suction machines, medicines...I feel like the troops have arrived and it gives me such hope. We're doing something! He's not responding much though. His fingers are blue. A foot is swelling big time. He's in pain, and still gasping. And Elaine is in total tunnel vision focusing on Paul. She's stroking his face, massaging his neck, calming him, speaking to him so sweetly, but yet in total control, making him feel her confidence that all is well. He relaxes visibly. I'm watching, falling to pieces. But hopeful. Very hopeful. He's tough and strong: He's a soldier! We'll pull through this. I just know we will, but only if we recognize that this strength and hope can only come from God sending His batallion of volunteer angels.
[Hindsight is always so clear. The night I wrote my previous post (on May 14) where I was crippled by my anger towards God, was just after I had heard Paul's first gurgling breaths. And I guess now, that I was sensing what was to come in the following days. I was so frightened that it evolved into anger.]
Well, I've just spent so much time sitting here drawing a blank, then typing, then drawing a blank that it is now officially Wednesday, May 18, and it's 12:59 A.M. And I'm finally tired enough to sleep.
So, the "official" prediction is that if this decline continues Paul has less than a week here with us before he joins Eric in heaven. But no one has a magic crystal ball. We all know it's not in our hands. All we can do is gage our reactions and predictions according to human historical statistics tied to glioblastoma multiforme brain tumors.
This morning I was simply asked, "Do you want Paul to die here at home within the week, or over at Odyssey House?"
Here, at home, where he most longs to be.
I have no idea how to write this post. There's no "sample template" available to help me even just begin to write. It's the second most unpleasant post I could ever imagine composing, with the #1 most unpleasant post being the one I'll have to send when Paul finally joins Eric in heaven.
........Geesh, I've just been sitting here for a long long time now just looking at this page......It's blank, I'm blank.......
Ahhhhh, if he could, I can imagine Paul saying, "Yeah, ok, it's tough, so get going! Do what ya gotta do."
Some of you have said that I write well. Not this time. Nope. I just don't feel clever or smart enough anymore. So I'll just have to do it.
Paul has quickly become very sick in the last few days. It started with a little chest congestion and a low-grade fever one night. Every breath was labored with gurgling sounds. His blood pressure dropped, and his pulse was 135. The congestion developed into full blown pneumonia almost overnight. As of tonight (Tuesday, May 17) it has been three days since he has been able to eat or drink, and the last word I've heard him speak was "No" three days ago when I had asked him if he was hurting. The first day he slept until 4:00pm without awakening at all. The congestion was gurgling louder and louder with every breath he had taken during the previous 24 hours. I could hear the gurgling from the kitchen. Naturally I'm scared. Emergency phone call to Elaine, our hospice nurse/angel. She arrives minutes later, completes her triage. She makes phone calls. Within 20 minutes, equipment begins being delivered to our front door: a nebulizer to ease his breathing, powerful antibiotics are delivered, oxygen tanks, suction machines, medicines...I feel like the troops have arrived and it gives me such hope. We're doing something! He's not responding much though. His fingers are blue. A foot is swelling big time. He's in pain, and still gasping. And Elaine is in total tunnel vision focusing on Paul. She's stroking his face, massaging his neck, calming him, speaking to him so sweetly, but yet in total control, making him feel her confidence that all is well. He relaxes visibly. I'm watching, falling to pieces. But hopeful. Very hopeful. He's tough and strong: He's a soldier! We'll pull through this. I just know we will, but only if we recognize that this strength and hope can only come from God sending His batallion of volunteer angels.
[Hindsight is always so clear. The night I wrote my previous post (on May 14) where I was crippled by my anger towards God, was just after I had heard Paul's first gurgling breaths. And I guess now, that I was sensing what was to come in the following days. I was so frightened that it evolved into anger.]
My son Ben is coming here from Lafayette, LA on Wednesday. Paul's Mom and Dad will arrive on Thursday.
Round the clock Hospice nurses are available to camp here for the duration. I have requested their presence only during the daytime hours.
Well, I've just spent so much time sitting here drawing a blank, then typing, then drawing a blank that it is now officially Wednesday, May 18, and it's 12:59 A.M. And I'm finally tired enough to sleep.
So, the "official" prediction is that if this decline continues Paul has less than a week here with us before he joins Eric in heaven. But no one has a magic crystal ball. We all know it's not in our hands. All we can do is gage our reactions and predictions according to human historical statistics tied to glioblastoma multiforme brain tumors.
This morning I was simply asked, "Do you want Paul to die here at home within the week, or over at Odyssey House?"
Here, at home, where he most longs to be.
Saturday, May 14, 2011
Don't Wait - Live Your Dreams Now
Oh, oh. Not having a good day. Don't worry, Paul is fine. It's me. Don't know if I'll post this on my blog or just save it to my personal journal. Will decide later. Might not feel brave enough to share this because someone might think I'm not stable or something. I know there are thousands of other "caregivers" walking a similar path. Been lurking on a caregiver forum but never posted. Maybe I should only share this on that forum; they're more likely to understand and less likely to condemn me for feeling this way. Or maybe honestly sharing my feelings could help someone? I don't know.
I don't understand how I can just simply plow ahead through several unremarkable (boring) days or even weeks and then "Bam!" some deep down emotions sneak up and bite down on my heart with such fierce unbearable pain. It hurts so bad that actually I feel nauseated. What is this? Where did it come from? I was actually having some fun doing the blog, but deep down felt a little guilty because I was enjoying myself. I was enjoying focusing on whatever I could identify as a blessing from God. Even tiny ones. If you scour through your daily moments LOOKING for blessings, you just can't help but find some! And then you feel so joyful. And when you share them they become even more joyous. Then out of the blue, BAM. Guilt reminds me that Paul isn't having ANY fun. He just lays there in that bed. He doesn't seem to show any joy or happiness. Is that it? Is it guilt that has bitten me?
It's just that all of a sudden I feel all alone. I can't seem to find a blessing right now. Is God that busy? Even though Paul is right here in bed just a few feet away from me, I'm alone. Today it's been 6 months since we have had a normal simple conversation like husbands and wives do all the time. I just want one REAL little chat like we used to have 20-30 times a day. It's just not the same. The "we", "us", "couple", has changed. I need to talk with him, not just play a guessing game to try to fulfill some simple little need he's having at that moment. When he wants something our communication is all one sided. Are you thirsty? Negative head shake. Are you hungry? No. Are you in pain?, No, tired?,cold?,hot?... And I keep trying and trying, still not getting it right. After a bit BOTH of our frustration levels are soaring. He can't get what he wants, and I can't figure out what it is. I would do ANYTHING to please him if I could just figure out what it is. A helpless feeling. Then I have to go somewhere so he can't see me cry. I hate hate hate the tumor, it's an evil thief that is stealing everything meaningful from our lives. I know the tumor is never going away. And now I'm angry too.
When I get like this my mind starts spiraling downward out of control. Sadness is consuming me. Thinking about the funeral and the emptiness that is sure to follow. I waited so long to find him! Life without my very best friend. It's not fair and I'm really scared. My heart is pounding, feels like it might burst.
We had decided to retire early at age 60 so we could start our Happy Golden Years, finally free from years of work. Time to have some fun. Is it worth all the turmoil employees will surely go through as Continental merges with United? Why kill ourselves working another 5 years just to make our portfolio bigger? Is there some magic $$$ number you should reach in order to retire feeling financially secure? When is enough "enough"? Can't we just make what we already have BE enough? Yes, we can!
Our plan was to get rid of everything, buy an RV, live in it fulltime, and travel.
Then I remember how we've spent the last 2+ years excitedly focused on researching and meticulously planning our retirement lifestyle in an RV. We put the big house on the market and got rid of most of our furniture and all of the silly knick-knacks that had now become just meaningless "stuff". As our furniture and stuff were sold we put that money into an envelope labeled "Diesel Fund" to use in an emergency so we'd never be stuck if the price of fuel became an issue. Then we stashed that envelope in our Bank Safety Deposit box. Went to several RV shows collecting brochures and information, and had decided we would buy a Tiffin Allegro Bus and retire as soon as the house was sold. We had such fun planning! Ordered every RV magazine possible. Printed out as least two reams of paper explaining all the systems in an RV. Prematurely joined the "Good Sam" club. Figured out how we'd get our mail, and pay our bills. Closely watched the "RV Classifieds". Scoured the internet and joined several RV forums asking questions and learning about the lifestyle. Got a DVD of all of the military bases with campgrounds and made a list of which ones we would visit first. Made lists of places we just couldn't miss. Made a 2011 calendar of RV group gatherings to attend along our routes. Connected with new RV couples who were already living our dream with plans to "hook up" with them and travel together someday. Mapped routes in order to visit family and friends and not miss anything along the way that interested us. Even totally planned the route that would eventually take us to Alaska and then through Canada. We were already having fun just planning and we hadn't even left yet!! It was finally so close, hopefully just a couple more months and we'd be living our dream!!! (The house had been on the market for 21 months and finally sold 2 days after bringing Paul home from the brain surgery.) Ironic?
Dreams. All gone. In a split second. Snap your fingers. Just like that, poof. Gone. The instant the doctor said "massive terminal brain tumor".
Wait! No! Stop! This can't be real! Not now! Paul already lost his only child Eric way over there in Afghanistan! This should happen to someone else! There's got to be some evil person out there who deserves it! Just NOT HIM! or me!
OK, that's just the way it is. Whenever I get this way I don't even want anyone to try to help me "snap out of it". I just need to feel this pain, till it stops. I just need to feel this anger, till it stops. I know eventually it will go away. It always has before. Just need to be a little patient and try harder to focus on searching even for the littlest blessing.
"Don't Wait - Live Your Dreams Now"
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