When we left the visibility was around 10-15' . It was like drowning for me; Wash said he could taste some of the dust but he wasn't even coughing. I have had 2 different emergency hits on my inhaler in the last hour ish. I am for one thanking myself for spending the extra money we never seem to have but I always seem to find to get the super super ultra air filter at home. It's like walking into a hospital in that respect, at least our air inside is clear and breathable.
Driving was a challenge. I never got higher than 36, 37 mph heading home and got to use my super ultra high beams of DOOM! Fun! (I say that from driving an SUV where the car doesn't use the fog lamps for the first 15 years of the car's life!). It was a little eerie driving with few other people on the road, but with the low visibility it feels like you are so alone... couldn't even see the high rise buildings by the lake until we were literally in front of them.
We are home though, and safe.
We had a couple days where we took some time for us as a couple, to talk and such. We feel it might be time to start writing out a book, his book; Wash's story. I have to wonder, is it selfish, is it altruistic to want to share his story, to tell others not only of the danger of brain cancer and tumors and how badly they can effect people and families, but also perhaps our story. The truly Not-Disney story of love, even in the very face of death and loss.
A book though? What all do I have to say, to convey, more than I already do? A book unlike this blog is stagnant, it is a tomb- as well perhaps as a tomb- a place where the memories of Wash and myself are recorded, preserved, but no longer alive and changing.
Where is the line between truth, and story, and history? Am I sharing myself, am I exposing us, or Wash?
When he first realized the WHY of his actions- the tumor- and we knew then that the cancer would rob 50 years from him, he wanted his story told to help others. He wanted other people, young or not, to know his story and that the pain we have had to live through should not be put upon another human. He wanted to remove that specific suffering from the world. He wanted those with GBM to know they are NOT alone, even if it is so rare to get terminal brain cancer at 25.
I started to write as a way to stay sane. As a way for me to record the every little thing in our new experience; I wanted myself to remember the truth of this disease. The good it can bring for us, and the horrid. Life has its own balance and I wanted a way for myself to be able to tell the EVERYTHING of what was happening to us. Cramming 60 more years of life together in (3 if we are blessed and lucky) just a few leaves precious short time for normal memory recall.
I think in the same way parents will photograph their children and babies, I write to record the snapshots of the end of Wash's life, and really, our entire life together as a married couple.
Love is not all that one needs, but without it, even a small bit, it seems like there is so much less to hold onto with life.
I write Life, I live Love.
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