Baby Boomer Widow

Facing a Nightmare

When my husband, Joe, was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer in December 2009, I scoured the Internet and bookstores for information for caregivers and widows directed at my 60-ish age group. The blog posts, articles, and books I unearthed were aimed at women of my mother's vintage sheltered all their lives from pesky topics such as money and technology. The writers failed completely to speak to my need for contemporary content and even an occasional laugh. By the time Joe took his final breath while lying in my arms in July 2010, I was determined to write about my experience to give future widows mytake on dying, tears and laughs alike. Talk about a roller coaster of emotion. As stand-up performers Jerry Seinfeld and Rita Rudner have long known, one of the best definitions of comedy is this: tragedy plus a few days. So here is the story of what it has been like to become a shocked and despondent baby boomer widow learning the true meaning of gallows humor.

Inching Through Book

I just got the new book by Lisa Niemi. She's the widow of actor Patrick Swaze. He died in autumn 2009 of pancreatic cancer, a few months before Joe was diagnosed. I'm having a hard time getting past the first half of the memoir. I dread reaching the end.

Encountering Valentine's Displays

Today, I was in my neighborhood CVS store. I needed to pick up some prescriptions. On my way to the pharmacy, I passed a clerk stacking gifts on the shelves for Valentine's Day. The uber bright graphics of red hearts and the ginormous messages of undying love blinded me. With tears.

Knowing the Truth

About two weeks before his death, Joe commented that he looked like a Holocaust victim. He was right. Pancreatic cancer had, indeed, turned my husband into the gaunt, hollowed-eyed man so familiar from historical images of Nazi camps discovered at the end of World War II. Clearly, the disease was eating Joe alive. The sight of my spouse's once superfit body turning into a skeleton was horrible. But something else was far worse. Joe knew it.

Thanking Another Widow

Lisa Niemi is the poster child of widows of pancreatic cancer victims. Her husband was actor Patrick Swaze. He died two years ago. Niemi currently is promoting a book about her caretaking experiences. It's called "Worh Fighting For." In a short piece in Parade magazine, she was quoted as saying: "Sometimes it's all I can do to put one foot in front of the other." Thank you, Lisa. You make me feel less alone -- and crazy -- coping with my grief.

Looking at Photographs

The table tops in my home are covered with pictures of Joe and me: at my cousin's wedding, on vacation in Hilton Head, S.C., at my sister's home. They all were taken before Dec. 18, 2009, the day Joe and I learned he was dying. At that moment, picture taking stopped. Joe and I both disappeared.

Skirting My Own Death

I read somewhere that widows and widowers are likely to become seriously ill themselves within two years of their spouse's death. Little did I know I was going to prove the point. While on a business trip in September to San Francisco, I developed severe abdominal pains and was rushed into surgery for an intestinal blockage. It was the size of Shrek's fist. The doctor told me I would have died within hours had I not gone to a hospital emergency room clutching my stomach in pain. Recovery has taken three months. A friend pointed out that the episode proves that I, too, am mortal. I told her she was full of shit.

Succombing to Fear

When Joe had only a few days left on this Earth, I asked him if he were afraid. He said no. For the past six months, I feared something far less serious than death: writing this blog. The act of composing forces me to face the immensity of my grief. I don't like it.

Learning Nothing

Since Joe became ill two years ago,  I have learned absolutely nothing. And I mean nothing. A case in point: the wonders of computer tablets such as I-Pad have whizzed on by me. Simply put, I have found it difficult to think simultaneously about the appearance of touch-screen technology and the disappearance of Joe's loving touch. Who knew grief could shut down the brain?

Creating a Logo

My friend Jane designed the background for this blog. The sad face within the tie-dye peace symbol represents my unexpected baby boomer widowhood. In the near future, I hope to give speeches about life and loss to conferences of women, boomers, and anyone else who will listen. But first I need to come to terms with my own grief. Hopefully, sooner rather than later.

Keeping Up with Kardasians

Since Joe died, I have watched every single episode of the four reality TV shows featuring the Kardashian family: Keeping Up with the Kardashians, Chloe and Lamar, Kim and Kourtney take Miami, and Kim and Kourtney take New York. I also have followed Kim's oh-so-short marriage. My friends think my Kardashian fetish is downright crazy. How can I waste my time watching such lowbrow entertainment, they ask. Here's the reason. For a year and a half, during my darkest hours late at night, the Kardasian women have enabled me to put aside my grief and immerse my brain in their exploits, if only for an hour-long episode. They saved my sanity. I kid you not. Thank you, Kris, Kim, Khloe, Kendall, and Kylie.