Update from the Maine countryside

Jan and my sister-in-law Heather, who was Jan's
primary caregiver.

Yesterday we returned from a 5-day trip to Austin, Texas for Lindy's mom's funeral.  It was an emotional time for all of us. Jan Davies chose to stop dialysis and lived 2 more weeks, mostly happily, leaving behind the treatments that had made her so miserable. All her kids were there with her during those two weeks. Lindy returned a few days before she died. We are all in awe of her strength, courage and love.

Yesterday I texted this to a friend:

"We all spent the past 4 days monitoring how everyone was feeling, asking and being asked, how are you feeling, how are you doing, what do you need, what can I do?"

My heart was with my father-in-law through the whole ... I won't say "ordeal" because it really wasn't. It was a bittersweet time for the family and I'm so proud to be a member of this emotionally intelligent, caring crew. 

But my empathy was with him, because of all the time I've spent over the last 5 months imagining what life would be like if Lindy dies of this disease. I can tell you despite my father-in-law's grief, he is functioning far better than I imagine I would, and he and Jan had a very loving and devoted relationship for 55 years.

She insisted that the dialysis had to stop. She was in control and everyone respected her for it. And that's what I can't give Lindy: control over his disease. This is what I struggle with and this is why we are in a constant "good food fight."

(And in spite of their own grief, my sisters-in-law had the emotional energy to care for me in my own fear and worry. Both cancer survivors themselves, they are empathetic and generous with me.)

My course is clear. I am going to have to make the effort to give up my position as Chair and majority shareholder of his cancer. I don't know how to do that, but we're committed to finding a way together.

Stay tuned.

Lisa