Cause of Death and other bureaucracy

I've tried to keep busy today: loaded and ran the dishwasher, ordered groceries (I'm cooking dinner for my son tonight as a bribe to get him to hang out until the severe storms move through), cleaned the bathrooms, and washed the pile of cat food bowls.

And then I was too exhausted to move for the rest of the morning and afternoon.

Even in death, paperwork is a constant

I know there's paperwork to be done, and people to notify of Doug's death, and bills to pay, and... I've been unable to bring myself to deal with any of it. I don't know why, I just can't get it together. Well, I guess GIS is why I can't get it together. I'm truly not competent to do anything other than write about Doug and what I'm dealing with emotionally.

So Doug's daughter Missy came over today and went through his desk and pulled out everything important. She also went and picked up Doug's ashes for me yesterday, because no way could I do that. With the ashes came the death certificates.

I didn't really look at the death certificate until just before she left, but when I did, it was... harder than I expected (recurring theme for me, yes?). Because the death certificate lists the cause(s) of death. In Doug's case, those would be:

• Acute Renal Failure (which pisses me off, because it's now known as Acute Kidney Injury, and has been for... two years now? Get it together, people!)
• Rhabdomyolysis (what?!? that wasn't even one of the things his surgeon discussed with me as a possibility!)
• Acute Respiratory Failure
• Peripheral Artery Disease

I'm not going to say that this makes it more real, because clearly I'm very much in touch with how real it all is. But dammit, ALL those things are treatable, so WHY is my husband dead? It's not a question to which I'll ever have an answer, and it doesn't really matter: he's not coming back, no matter what the reason or what COULD have kept him alive.

Last night, a new regret hit: on the day before he died, Doug was awake and responsive. I was in his room a lot that day, holding his hand and talking to him. But why didn't I think to ask the nurse to make room so I could've climbed into that bed with him and held him while he was awake and aware? WHY DIDN'T I DO THAT FOR HIM?

And just like the questions about what really killed him and what could've been done, there's no going back. I can't fix it. I have to live with knowing that I COULD have held him one more time, but I didn't. I didn't even THINK of it. And that's going to haunt me for a long, long time.

All grief support is not really supportive

I've joined a couple of grief support groups on social media. One of them is exclusive to women who've lost their partners. That group, in particular, has been troubling me for two weeks now, because it's full of widows who are positively drowning in their misery - years after they were widowed. That terrifies me: if that's how my life is going to be, then why SHOULD I fight to keep going? Who would want to live like that?

But today? Ah, today, things went really off the rails: one of the members relayed a story in which one of her friends was complaining about her husband (the friend's own husband; not the widow's husband). The widow was furious at this, and LOTS of women piled on, saying it infuriates them when their friends complain about their husbands, because BY GOD THEY SHOULD BE HAPPY THEIR HUSBANDS ARE STILL ALIVE.

Y'all I'm here to tell you: I used to good-naturedly complain about Doug's need for my uterine homing device to find things that were in exactly the same place they always were. I used to legit complain about some of Doug's more irritating traits. NONE of that negates the overwhelming love I had and still have for him. NONE of it means that I'm not DEVASTATED without him. But it takes a special kind of #CrazyGrief to convince yourself that no one should ever complain about their husband again just because yours is dead.

(A note: I have, on several occasions with close friends, played the dead husband card for a laugh, because humor is my best coping mechanism. But I cannot imagine that I would ever be so far gone that I'd tell my friends that they aren't allowed to complain about their husbands. And if I DID ever go that far over the edge, I'd hope they would love me enough to hit me with a clue-by-four.)

My point is: if you're stuck in this horrible club of the widowed, be careful about what groups you join; if they're making you feel even worse than you already do, then unfollow or leave the group altogether.

COVID-19 and the newlywed newly widowed

First, the SEC basketball tournament was cancelled. This makes me sad, because now is when I need to maintain connections to Doug, and losing that is just another loss I really can't tolerate. Then the entire NCAA tournament was cancelled. Then the NBA, and the NHL... we loved watching sports, and now I can't do that at all.

And, let's say a big huzzah for social distancing, because nothing is better for someone who's skating the thin edge of not wanting to live anymore than being alone 24/7, right? I'm already lonelier than I've ever been, so let's compound that!

Thanks to the internet, social distance doesn't have to mean social isolation, but skin hunger is a real thing, and going from getting hugs pretty much any time I wanted them to getting none at all is not helpful.

A final thought for the day: several people have said they aren't as worried about me as they were. I'm glad, but I hope y'all remember that this isn't linear. A good moment (or day) doesn't mean that's what tomorrow will be like. The things that trigger the uncontrollable tears are legion and unpredictable. I don't feel any better than I did - still wanna go be with him - no matter how much calmer I seem. This isn't me trying to milk my misery or draw it out; it's simply how it is. So try not to be disappointed if, tomorrow, I'm a wreck all day again. 

On that note, I'm going to go unload the dishwasher and work on getting dinner going for my son.