Day 8 - Home

We made it back home to California. Had a few mishaps here and there, but all in all, it was a smooth ride home. It's both comforting and heart-wrenching to be back where everything is familiar. I missed my room, my shoes, my bathroom... but I miss Anderson now more than ever.

I tried sleeping in my old twin-sized bed in my room, but I couldn't. I'm now sitting in the king sized bed that we used to sleep on. When I first walked in to "our" room in my parents' house, I cried. I laid on the spot where he would have slept... I saw the little heating pad that we used to lay on. If he got to bed first, he would turn on the heating pad for me so it'd be warm by the time I got there. I cried really hard. Harder than I have for days. Maybe it's just because it's my first night back at home, but the void that he left in my heart seems overwhelming right now.

I know you feel pain too. You lost your friend, your cousin, your brother, your son. I feel like I'm feeling the loss of all of those you lost combined. He was my soul mate, my best friend, my lover, my shopping buddy, my roommate, my guinea pig, my coach, my teammate, my advisor, my encourager, my patient, my pupil, my teacher... my everything. You cry with me, but your life goes on. My life has crumbled all around me and I'm standing alone in the rubble.

Echoes, shadows, and faded images of him and of our life together seem to taunt me everywhere I look, everywhere I am. I almost felt like I was starting to adapt... almost thought I was feeling OK... and now I feel like I'm back to where I was a week ago, except I'm no longer in the hospital room holding his hand. What ever strength I had in Houston... I must have left it there because I'm starting from scratch now.

How do you even begin to pick up the broken remnants that remain after heartbreak and pain beyond words?

I don't know. I have no answers. But I think what I'm going to do is just make the most out of what I've been given and I've been given so so much. I read this a few days ago from Ecclesiastes 5:

Make the Most of What God Gives

^18-20 After looking at the way things are on this earth, here's what I've decided is the best way to live: Take care of yourself, have a good time, and make the most of whatever job you have for as long as God gives you life. And that's about it. That's the human lot. Yes, we should make the most of what God gives, both the bounty and the capacity to enjoy it, accepting what's given and delighting in the work. It's God's gift! God deals out joy in the present, the now. It's useless to brood over how long we might live.

Just keep swimming... - Dory of Finding Nemo.

Day 7

We started driving home last night. My brother was somehow able to drive through the night. We're spending the night in Tucson, AZ right now and getting back on the road tomorrow morning. Almost home. :)

The drive is very long and very boring.

I miss him a lot today. I'll write more tomorrow.

Day 6 - The Proper Perfection

I write these in the mornings usually so Day 6 is probably more about Day 5.

My brother, my aunt and I are driving home tomorrow. We'll be home on Friday at the latest. Part of me doesn't want to leave Houston... we spent more than half our married life here in Texas. At every step in my journey, I feel like part of me wants to stay behind and wallow, but a greater part of me wants to move forward (which is my natural drive). I want to wallow. I want to wallow where it's familiar. I can still look at the couch in the apt and imagine him sitting there... resting... doing nothing but watching me do my things. What was I doing? Probably... a yoga video... doing a craft kit from the hospital... or on the computer. I've begun to regret doing "other" things and not just co-existing with him on the couch. I know that we lived. We thanked God at the end of the day and prayed for another tomorrow. I just want to go back to those days so I could touch him and feel him near to me.

When I look at pictures nowadays... I try to imagine myself at that very moment it was taken. What did it feel like to hold his hand? To rest my head on his shoulder with the San Francisco wind blowing hair in my face? What did his skin feel like? What did it feel like to have his arms around me?

I'm not a touchy person. I don't like to touch or be touched much other than a hello/goodbye hug. With Anderson, it was different. I loved to touch him and be touched by him. I loved to grab his hand... poke his cheek... lay on his chest. Out of nowhere, I'd just reach over and massage his arms and shoulders. It was like I couldn't help myself. Like how a baby is so cute, you just want to squeeze him and touch his cheeks and plant lots of kisses on the chubs. I planted kisses on my hubs.

I'm still going through A Grief Observed by C.S. Lewis. It's so horrible that I'm so picky about my reading material now. A very well-intentioned stranger left me a book entitled Healed From Cancer. I was touched to receive it and touched at the thought behind it, but like I've said before... everyone is different and everyone goes through life differently. I am 100% certain that it encouraged someone else who passed it along to me. I read it, but I was not encouraged. The author was too optimistic for me... too peppy. I was in mourning... in agony... I didn't want to hear her rave about how glorious it was that she was healed and all she did to get there. I wanted to hear more about that one line she wrote about how she dealt with the pain and the waiting. Not really because I wanted my pain to stop... I just wanted to hear about her pain too. Misery loves company? And then when I was reading A Grief Observed, I felt like C.S. Lewis had too much misery and I felt really bad for him. I guess it's just being human. I want to read about what I'm going through right at this very moment and nothing else. I want to read my own thoughts on paper without having to write them out. I guess that's how I am so I marvel at how any of you can even begin to be remotely interested in what I'm saying because not much of it applies to you or how you feel right now.

I'm intrigued by A Grief Observed though... regardless of whether or not my feelings coincide with his at the particular paragraph I'm reading. I've always respected C.S. Lewis and his literary genius. Mere Christianity was so thought-provoking and logical. I marveled at every sentence. But he was untouchable... so above me. A Grief Observed though... is refreshing because it lets me know he was a real person, just like me. He had feelings. He had brilliant thoughts, but he also felt misery and loss that shook him to the core too. If I had only read Mere Christianity, I would have been afraid to even talk to him because I thought that maybe I wouldn't be able to comprehend what he was saying unless it was written down and I could reread it 5x before my brain could catch up to his thought process. A Grief Observed... makes me feel like I could sit with him and I could even venture to have a conversation with the great C.S. Lewis. Maybe I will one day in heaven.

I'm reaching a point in the book where he's beginning to write for me.

'It was too perfect to last,' so I am tempted to say of our marriage. But it can be meant in two ways. It may be grimly pessimistic-as if God no sooner saw two of His creatures happy than He stopped it ('None of that here!'). As if He were like the Hostess at the sherryparty who separates two guests the moment they show signs of having got into a real conversation. But it could also mean 'This had reached its proper perfection. This had become what it had to be. Therefore of course it would not be prolonged.' As if God said, 'Good; you have mastered that exercise. I am very pleased with it. And now you are ready to go on to the next.' When you have learned to do quadratics and enjoy doing them you will not be set them much longer. The teacher moves you on. - C.S. Lewis.

I'm more inclined to think that the latter half is true and that God isn't the cosmic kill-joy that some people make him out to be.

And that's all I have to say about that. -Forrest Gump.

Day 5

I have a lot of incomplete thoughts. Maybe they'll make sense together once I start writing them down.

Yesterday, I went and found our journal and started writing to him in it. We started this journal together in February when we started doing couples devotions. It was a nice time together. We talked about things we probably wouldn't have were it not for the questions presented us in the book. I started to read a little bit of what we wrote back then. Here's one excerpt:

Feb 8, 2009. Habakkuk 3:17-19

Though...

• I don't pass my NCLEX
  
• Anderson is sick
  
• We don't get our "dream house" in the OC
• We go to Texas
• the Dodgers never win another world series
• Fruffy (my brother's dog) bugs us forever
• people are inconsiderate
• this journal may fall into the wrong hands
  
• (and I've cut some out)

yet we will rejoice in the Lord, we will joy in the God of our salvation. The Lord God is our strength. -Amen.

Though the worst things may happen to us in this life, yet we will rejoice in the Lord, we will joy in the God of our salvation. The Lord God is our strength.

Yesterday, I was pondering on the toilet (tmi?) about prayer. The point of prayer isn't to get what we want. The point of prayer is to ask and trust. It's not the only point of prayer, but for right now, just go with it. Why didn't God give me what I asked for? Why didn't He heal Anderson and give us more time together? I really don't know. But I don't need to know. I don't need to understand it, I just need to trust that God has a plan and God's way is better than Tiff's way 100% of the time.

When you pray and ask, you're humbling yourself. You're saying that I can't do it on my own... I need Your help, God. The more you pray, the more you're asking... the more you're entrusting. I've never been a huge fan of delegation, but I've come to realize over the years that I can't do everything myself. Some stuff just isn't worth it and sometimes it gets done better if someone else does it and there is more satisfaction and ownership if more people get involved. Anyway, I digress. When you ask someone to do something, you're relinquishing some of your control and entrusting it to someone else. When it comes to God, committing things to prayer is asking Him to take it all from me. And it's not a bad thing to do either. The majority of things, I can't control anyway. I just find that it's more the process of prayer rather than getting what I want. Through the process, I am humbled, I am forced to examine myself and fess up to my mistakes, ask for forgiveness, to make a conscious effort to thank God for what He's done... and trusting that God's got it under control. (end of thought. it's not really panning out well in my mind)

So how can I trust that God's got a good plan? Because He says so. And not like vaguely... He said exactly, "I know the plans I have for you. Plans for good and not evil, to give you a future and a hope." This God created the entire earth out of nothing. He keeps my body going, my heart beating... and not just mine, everyone else's too. Billions of people. God is powerful to the max. And multi-tasking? He's the ultimate multi-tasker and master orchestrator too. I can barely do one or two things at a time. As evidenced by everything that's happened in my life, in the lives of others... past and present for thousands of years... God's got a good plan. The best.

When my mom used to just say "pray about it"... I'd be like "OK" but then in the back of my mind I'd be thinking what else I should be doing to help God out. God's not just gonna take my test for me or do my taxes for me. When Anderson found out that the tumor came back a 2nd time in January... he was constantly frustrated. He left so many messages on so many answering machines because you never get to talk to a real person when you're asking about clinical trials... you leave a message and they call you back. When you go to get your medical records, you fill out the paperwork and you wait. If you call to see what the status is, you have to leave a message and wait for them to get back to you. He was almost pulling his hair out every day because there was only so much that was happening and it seemed to be happening too slow for him to handle. He kept saying "I don't have time to wait for these people". It got me frustrated too. But somehow... in those moments... I just had to tell him to stop for a minute. Look at me. Take a breath. We do our best, and let God do the rest. And trust Him to do it too.

We got through it. God worked it out perfectly that we'd end up in Texas at MD Anderson. The timing... the doctor... everything. We seriously had the best surgeon and ICU doctor taking care of us. They cared so much and talked to us like regular people. They even took the time to look at our wedding pics and listen to us talk about him. The nurses even told us that we were so lucky to be taken care of by so and so... they're the best. And it's no coincidence, either. God worked it out for us.

This is getting long and babbly so I'll end it here.

Even though Anderson is no longer with us here on earth, yet we will rejoice in the Lord, we will joy in the God of our salvation. The Lord God is our strength.

Day 4

I didn't dream about him last night. I woke up sad and I cried. I laid there for a while trying to remember ANYTHING I dreamt about and I couldn't.

Yesterday, I had so much to tell him. I had a pretty busy day. I was kept occupied by my family and friends in Houston. I wanted to crawl into bed with him and just tell him about it. I think I'm going to start a journal to him soon. I wanted to tell him about my day, about my thoughts... about how I felt about things. I miss hearing what he'd say to me. He always asked me why I always had so much to say right before he's about to go home or right as he was about to fall asleep or hang up the phone. Maybe I need that extra push... a little reminder that our time together is about to end before all the words come spilling out. How... true.

He'd always surprise me with the things he said to me. Sometimes it was funny, sometimes it was just matter of fact... and sometimes it was correction. It took us two years of dating before we got to a point where we could tell each other what bothered us about one another... without a big ol' fight. I think that was the point where our relationship started to get exponentially better; when we began to teach each other and change.

It was mostly me that had to do the learning. He had a few things I complained about here and there but for the most part, I needed a lot of correction. Darn him for being such a good person. Eh, it was for the best. I don't think my pride could have handled always having to correct him. If you know him, he had a way with words. Being in business... it really helped that he was a smooth talker. I used to think that it was lying or manipulation. Maybe it was. I can't think of any other time he smooth-talked... the last time was probably when he tried to get the nurse to let us walk around the hospital at 2am. Anyway, he also had a way with words... to me. When we first made the agreement that we would tell each other what bothered us about each other right at the moment, he really unloaded on me. It got to a point where I had to tell him to limit himself to 2-3 things MAX per day because I couldn't handle so much all at once. It got better though. The sting of correction became less and less painful over time. Now I miss it. Who's gonna make sure that I'm being a good person... a good daughter, and especially a good daughter-in-law now?

^11-12 The right word at the right time
is like a custom-made piece of jewelry,
And a wise friend's timely reprimand
is like a gold ring slipped on your finger. (Prov 25)

If that's the case, then I'm covered in bling.

Here's another one that reminded me of him

¹⁵ Patient persistence pierces through indifference;
gentle speech breaks down rigid defenses. (Prov 25)

A friend in high school once told me that I was like a rock... in that I was solid, consistent, and showed little emotion. I've heard it many times that other people (females especially) were intimidated by me at first partly because I don't change my expression much when I talk. For those of you who are sad that you never got to know me better... don't blame yourself. I'm not easy to get to know. My own mother tells me not to shut her out of my life.

Another friend and I were emailing about our similar personality traits and also those who are completely opposite of us... those people who are liked and loved almost immediately when people meet them (like Anderson)... compared to us who are more acquired tastes and take a lot longer for people to warm up to us. I compared us to fruits and vegetables. Everyone likes fruits... they're pretty, they're sweet, just plain yummy and they're good for you right up front. Not everyone likes vegetables. They're generally uglier, tough, rough, and bitter-tasting, but they are also... good for you. They just need to be cooked first.

If you knew Anderson, you'd definitely agree that he was patient and persistent with gentle speech. And if you know me from the outside, I'm more indifferent with rigid defenses. He was my knife and my slow cooker.... cutting me up and softening me so I'd be suitable to "eat". I miss him. I miss him a lot.

Yesterday, I got a pedicure with my mom, my aunt, and my sister-in-law. The nail lady (what's the term... cosmetologist?) saw my rings and asked if I was married. I instinctively said yes. She said how long. I said 6 months. Any kids? No. She said... ok, not yet, huh? I kind of gave her a weak smile and I looked away. I guess I'm not ready to say it out loud yet.

I'm not sure for how much longer I'll be having these thoughts... or for how much longer it's appropriate for me to keep putting them out there. Please feel free to unsubscribe yourself from the google group so you won't get emailed every time I post.

Day 3

I can't believe it's only been 3 days. I can't believe that I'm a widow. This was definitely NOT in Tiff's master plan for my life. Something I've learned though... is that God's way is better than Tiff's way 100% of the time.

I've always wanted a stable, upper-middle class, suburban California life. I wanted to get married at 25, have kids from 27-30... I thought that maybe if I married someone who was financially stable, I could just stay at home and be a housewife and just bake and clean and do crafts all day long. Anderson and I talked about our life together and he kinda wanted to be a house-dad, to cook and clean and play with the kids all day long. He said that I could go to work if I wanted to and he'd take care of the kids. I said, gee, thanks bubba.

Obviously, nothing happened the way either of us planned. We never wanted this for each other. But we were never in want of anything EXCEPT each other either. We decided a few years ago that it didn't matter what we were doing or where we were doing it... as long as we were together, we'd get through it. Me you, you me. Us.

I always told him that I wished that we could have had other peoples' lives. I wish that our biggest problem was what time we could meet up for dinner or whose parents' we were going to visit that weekend. I wish that we could just go to work in the morning, come home, and see each other... like "normal" people do. He always told me that other people have other problems and that we were so blessed that we don't have their problems.

I don't remember if I ever posted about it, but Anderson typed me a card from hallmark.com and had it mailed to our apt in Houston for our 6-year dating anniversary back in May. We stopped living in the apt at the end of May and I only just came back a few days ago. Needless to say, I lost the card. I hid it from everyone else in a place where I thought I'd remember... but well... I looked for a week and I couldn't find it. I was able to login to his hallmark account and thankfully he saved the card so I rebought it and had it sent to our apt. I'm still waiting for it to come. Anyway, my point was... that part of what he wrote in the card was that there wasn't a thing that he would change about our relationship. I agree. With a heavy heart, I agree.

I know now that God knew exactly what I could handle and He pushed me to my breaking point... slowly. God blessed me with 3 years to say goodbye to Anderson. Even the last few months... God blessed us with time to talk when his legs were paralyzed. God even put the tumor in his cerebellum where it didn't affect his memories... only his coordination. I was so afraid that he'd lose memories after every brain surgery, but he didn't. We had a lot of opportunities to talk from May-June. I remember... almost nightly, I'd crawl into bed with him and have him put his arm around me and comfort me with his words and touch so I could go sleep without crying. In July, God took away his voice (he was intubated) and all we could do was hand signals and such. I pleaded to hear his voice one more time and God allowed him to be extubated for one day. Even after his brain tumor hemorrhaged, he still woke up 2-3 times after that to look at me and tell me that he loved me. God kept giving me extra time to say goodbye. Even after they removed the breathing tube, God still gave me an extra hour to watch him breathe. I don't know if you feel like he died a horrible death or not... but it could have been so much worse. I think I've grieved a whole lot even before he passed. My struggle to "let go" happened more while he was in the hospital, I think.

The last time I communicated with him was Thursday, July 16th. I kinda hear Forrest Gump's voice when he said "Bubba was my best good friend... if I'd known that was the last time we'd talk, I woulda thought of something better to say." He opened his eyes and looked at me. I said "I love you". He pointed to his chest and then gave me 2 fingers. He meant, "me too." And then he closed his eyes and that was the last time we looked directly at each other.

Day 2

I find that life now is like a roller coaster, except that I'm blindfolded and I don't know what's coming until I'm already falling. Maybe it's kinda like space mountain... but not as fast.

I wish time would go faster. It's only my second day without him. It feels... so long ago.

Sometimes, it feels like every exhale is a silenced scream of anguish. Sometimes, I feel just fine. Back to baseline.

I want to let you all know that I do cry. I do not restrain myself and I do not put on any front for anyone. I'm actually having a hard time controlling other emotions as well... like anger or irritation. I can't open the floodgates to let my grief without also letting all the other stuff out as well. When you see me, I may be just as stoic as you remember me... but with slightly sadder eyes.

I'm not angry at God. I actually feel carried by Him. At this very moment (and day times are always better for me emotionally than night times), I feel like my heart is cradled in His hands and He's gently rocking it until it heals. I feel protected. Thank you for your prayers. My feelings are undoubtedly the product of the prayer-songs that are floating up into our Father's ears.

I have come to know more and more that the love that Anderson and I shared... was not a love that we could have contrived on our own. I feel mostly OK when I think that Anderson's been released and his soul is free. In a previous post, I considered that he shared my pain with me the moment before he passed... I take it back. He's endured considerably more pain than I have. Infinitely more pain than I have. He not only had his physical pain from the cancer... he also suffered his own loss of life, his loss of what could have been... separation from me... and he also suffered my pain for me as well. He always... ALWAYS comforted me and put me first. If he was crying, I would always cry too. And then he would stop and comfort me. He was comforting me right up to the very last days. And it was only on that Saturday... the night that I couldn't bear it anymore... that I ever prayed that God would deliver him by taking him to heaven. I prayed it before, but I never put my full heart behind it. It was always the #2 option. I wanted him to be healed so that I could be with him a little while longer. It was selfish. That Saturday was the first time that I truly prayed an unselfish prayer that God would take him home.

I'm reading through C.S. Lewis's A Grief Observed... as recommended by a friend. He writes about his thoughts and feelings after his wife passed from cancer. He also married her knowing that she had cancer. I really thought that it would speak to me more than it does... but when I read his thoughts... I feel like I can understand what he's feeling, but that his grief is still different than mine. It seems like he struggled so much more with God. I actually think that he was in much worse shape than I am.

All I want to do is talk about him and remember him. I want to have happy conversations reliving our best moments. I'm glad that things are starting to come back to me and I'm starting to remember the things we talked about and what he said about this and that. That comforts me.

I think I'm out of thoughts right now. Time for lunch.

WAIT! I have one more thought. I had a dream last night. It was a bizzaro dream... a combination of watching that reality TV show where the 10 strangers try to survive the end of the world scenario on discovery... something with werewolves... but anyway, he was in bed with me on a ventilator but it wasn't a real one... it was like the one they had in heroes where it was just hanging on his nostril... and he asked me how he was breathing and I remember looking at the ventilator and it said apnea (no breathing). I remember thinking... hm...it's amazing he's still talking to me if he's apneic. And then I woke up. It wasn't sad. I have weirdo dreams. I've always had weirdo dreams. I'm glad I got to interact a little with him, even if it was just a dream. I think this one tells me that I might be watching too much TV.

Email Archive - Subject Line: Anderson's Ashes

 Jul 23, 2009, 10:27:41 AM

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to ipray4anderson

Hi all,

I feel that it is fitting for me to end the "ipray4anderson" group and to start another... I've named it Anderson's Ashes for now.  Sigh.

I know some of you still want to hear my thoughts so I'll keep posting them.  I write because my brain, my heart...my soul... is too full and I need to empty it before I can function. 

I also know that it wasn't so easy for all of you to subscribe to this google group.  I wish I could transport everyone on my own, but I don't know if I can do that.

To subscribe, send an email to:  andersons-as...@googlegroups.com 

or go to http://groups.google.com/group/andersons-ashes and subscribe.

I will blog in blogger http://andersonsashes.blogspot.com/ and it will send you an email when I post if you subscribe to the Anderson's Ashes group.  Blogger will only allow me to send direct emails to 10 email addresses.

If you need help being added, just let me know. 

much love,
Tiff

Day 1

11 AM

Last night was a horrible night. I was OK for the most part after we left the hospital, but once I got into bed... the reality of it all just came crashing down on me. I felt empty. Like my heart and my lungs weren't there anymore... it was just an empty void in my chest. I cried hysterically again. And I called my mom. We cried together. And then my brother told stories about the dog to cheer us up. It helped. I slept.

This morning I woke up in a different room. No monitors, no doctors or nurses... but no husband. I laid there for a while staring at the ceiling fan. What to do with myself now?

A song that's been in my head since yesterday:

How deep the Father's love for us,
How vast beyond all measure
That He should give His only Son
To make a wretch His treasure

How great the pain of searing loss,
The Father turns His face away
As wounds which mar the chosen One,
Bring many sons to glory

I sang it to Anderson in my head. I'm so thankful for the hope that we have in Jesus. The hope that I will see my beloved again. The hope that we will spend an eternity together with God in all joy and happiness.

All our happiness these past 3 years have been marred by intense sorrow. We have had immeasurable joy and oneness... but I look forward to the day where there is no little tugging in the back of my mind... that this will be the last time we will be doing this together... this could be the last time we have moments like this. I look forward to an eternity of beautiful moments and new things to share with my Anderson and my God.

As much as I've needed Anderson to get through this... I think he needed me as well. He needed me to help him live in the moment and not wait for things to get better (back when he was depressed). He needed me to "rush" him to do things NOW and not put them off. He needed me to tell him the cold, hard truth... that we make the most of what we've got right now because we might not have it tomorrow. He always says that I saved his life. So many times, he's said it. I don't think I ever said it back to him... but I think he maybe... he already knew.

He knew me and loved me so much more than I loved him. He always said that he loved me more and I never wanted to believe that... but it's true. This man was able to peer into my heart, understand my needs and my desires... and take care of me. When he realized that he wasn't going to be able to do so much longer... he asked others to care for me.

My husband. My beautiful husband. I wish... you didn't have to go so soon.

Email Archive - Subject Line: Our final conversations

 Jul 20, 2009, 4:19:06 PM

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to ipray4anderson

Hi everyone,

I've been writing these emails for so long.  I think I'm almost going to miss them. 

Kelly and I just had a meeting with the doctors, the patient advocate, the social worker, the case manager, palliative care, and a PA.  After the two doctors examined him today, they both agree that Anderson is very likely to be brain dead.  There are a few more tests that they could do, but both the ICU doctor and the neurosurgeon were in agreement that he is gone and only his body is here in the room with us. The last test they're going to do is to take him off the ventilator.  If he cannot breathe on his own, he will be pronounced brain dead officially and they will not put him back on the breathing machine. 

A few days ago... I thought I saw two tears fall out of his right eye.  Some time after that, I recall Kelly asking me why his face is so wet.  I'm not sure, but I'd like to think that those were his goodbye tears to us.  If they were, I just wished that I'd appreciated them a little more at the time. 

It was Anderson's wish to be cremated.  He didn't want a viewing.  This is not his body and not the way he would have wanted to be remembered.  We will likely have him cremated here in Texas and then go home and have a service for him at church. 

Anderson told me a few months ago that when he got better, he wanted to become a missionary and tell his story all over the world.  I used to think that was reason enough for God to allow him to live.  If you know Anderson, he's REALLY not the type to go out and say anything in public.  He doesn't like to put himself way out there and for him to say that he wanted to put himself out there for God to bring glory to His name for all the wonders He's done in our lives... it was a really really big thing for him.  Even though he never got a chance to tell you from his own two lips, I got a chance to tell you all a little bit here and there through these updates... and I've heard that some of my emails have reached others around the world. 

Anderson and I are extremely happy to hear all the testimonies of how God has used us and our story to touch your lives.  We hope that you have stirred up your hunger to have a growing relationship with God and that you won't need me or Anderson anymore to help you evaluate your lives and appreciate all the blessings you have.  Please don't stop sharing with me or with others all the great things God's been doing in your lives.  One of these days I'll get around to finishing the Tifferson story.  I will send it out when it's done.  That's a promise.

So... how am I feeling?  I actually feel a little bit of freedom and more peace than I thought.  If Anderson is no longer in his body, I think maybe he's already in heaven and that makes me REALLY happy.  To think that he was still inside, suffering and immobilized... was so painful for me.  He suffered so much already.  I'm glad to know that he's finally free.  I feel a little bit like God answered my cries... that I couldn't take it anymore.  I think there is much more pain in pleading than there is in knowing that the answer is no.  I do almost feel like King David when his pals asked him why he had been so devastated while the his child was still alive and normal again when he found out that his child had passed.  Here's a little bit from that passage in 2 Samuel again

21 His servants asked him, "Why are you acting this way? While the child was alive, you fasted and wept, but now that the child is dead, you get up
and eat!"
22 He answered, "While the child was still alive, I fasted and wept. I thought, 'Who knows? The LORD may be gracious to me and let the child live.'
23 But now that he is dead, why should I fast? Can I bring him back again? I will go to him, but he will not return to me."

I have full faith that Anderson is in heaven and that I will meet him in the clouds one day.  I look forward to that.  With all my heart. 

There's also still a chance that maybe God will perform a miracle and when they take him off the machine... he'll come back and start breathing again and open his eyes again.  That would be a modern day Lazarus experience.  Maybe.  Who knows.  We'll just have to wait and see. 

I don't really know what else to say.  I miss my husband terribly.  That is really the only reason I cry... because I miss him and not because I'm frustrated that life... and ultimately God, is unfair.  I miss him.  I've missed him for so long.  I've missed hearing his voice.  I've missed seeing his smile... hearing his jokes and laughing together.  The two of us together was something super special and I'm going to miss that.  I'm going to miss my best friend.  I'll miss him for the rest of my life. 

I think I'll end here for now. 

<3,
Tiff

Tiffany

<tiffany.g.ng@gmail.com>

Jul 22, 2009, 12:05:43 AM

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Hey all,

Not much has changed.  Well... his pupils have gone from mildly unequal to drastically unequal and much bigger than yesterday.  Never a good sign.  We did get the EEG done today but the results aren't in the computer yet.  The neurosurgeon said that by the laws of the state of Texas, he is not alive any longer. 

From the change in the pupils... I don't think it's going to be much longer now.  From what I remember from school.. dilated pupils means there's pressure in his head.  Unequal pupils mean that the pressure on those sides are different.  I think bigger pupils means more pressure.  The fact that they're getting bigger by the day means that the pressure is increasing.  When the pressure gets too high, the brain will have nowhere to go except out the bottom of the skull.  That's so gruesome.  I'm sorry if you guys didn't want to hear it.  And I'm even more sorry if I'm mistaken.  This kind of thing isn't really what the doctors tell us when they come by.  They're more interested in making sure we're OK and meeting our needs.  I'm so thankful for that and EXTREMELY thankful that we're where we're at.  MD Anderson really is awesome.  I would highly recommend it to anyone who's suffering from cancer.  I think you'll notice a difference immediately if you've ever been treated at any other hospital.  God really took care of us by bringing us here. 

I try to pray for him now... but if he's already in heaven... I don't have much to pray for.  I'm just thankful if he's already there.  So... I still pray in case he's still here... inside his body.  I don't feel right thinking that there's nothing to pray for because there's always something to pray for.  I try to hug him and lay on him and hold him as much as possible.  Sometimes I put my fingers on his face and turn his mouth up like he's smiling.  It makes me happy very briefly to see him "smiling".  It's really strange too.  Like my heart kinda skips a little and smiles a bit even though I know it's not a real smile.  I just miss him.  Sigh.

I gave blood today.  Just whole blood... I thought about giving platelets... since Anderson needed so many platelet transfusions... but it takes 1.5-2 hours and I didn't want to be stuck there for that long.  And it was my first time giving blood.  They said I did well though.  The phlebotomist kept asking me if I felt OK.  Maybe I'm smaller than the average Texan and she didn't want me to pass out or anything.  Maybe they do it to everyone, but she asked me if I felt funny.  I said... a little bit... but I meant that my arm felt kinda cold and not that I felt light-headed... she put an ice pack under my neck.  I asked her what it was for and she said so i don't get hot.  mmm.  OK.  When I was done, she told me to lay there for a while.  When I thought that I was OK, I sat up and she didn't let me get off the chair for a while.  She brought me some juice and told me to drink it right there.  And after I was done, she still told me to sit there for a little while longer.  I went with it.  I wasn't in much of a rush.  That needle was monster though.  Totally felt like they stuck a coffee stirrer into my vein.  After I took off the pressure bandage, I saw that it wasn't such a big hole but, man, it looked huge at the time.  I felt like I gave back a little to the hospital.  I hope my blood gets put to good use. 

So my little experience with being poked... in a way, gave me a greater appreciation for what Anderson had to go through these past few months in the hospital.  I had one fingerstick to check my iron.  He had to have fingersticks done 3-4 times a day for weeks.  And I found out that it hurts more than I thought.  I thought it would just be a little tiny prick but my finger hurt for a long time after it was all bandaged up.  I had a big needle put in my arm for like 15-20 minutes. And it hurt for hours after they took it out. He's had 2 central lines (one of them was 5-lumen... which is BIG.  5-lumen means it had 5 individual ports all bundled up and going in to a big vein... they said they don't usually put too many of those in...), 2 arterial lines, a PICC line, 2 peripheral IV's... and that's just the past few weeks.  I will try to remember when I'm working... that even though to a nurse, we don't think too much about the little pricks and pain that come as part of the job... the things we do without thinking twice about it...really do hurt.. and every little bit adds up. 

I feel like the past two paragraphs were a little bit useless and aimless. 

Overall, I feel OK today.  I did do my share of crying on and off.  I just miss him so much. 

I don't know what to say right now.  I'm OK with that. 

You don't have to know what to say either.  But if you do have things to say, I do appreciate them via email.  The majority of the time, I'm not in the mood to talk, or visit with people... so emails work for me because I can get to them on my own time.  I've spoken to you from my heart and I very much appreciate it when you speak back to me from yours.  I especially like hearing about your memories. 

I'm so scared of forgetting. K.  Not scared... terrified.  Pictures just aren't enough.  Videos help, but I only have a few videos where he's talking to me.  He did record some audio messages for me when I went to Arizona for PowerPlant a few yrs ago.  I'd lost the charger for that mp3 player so I bought another one on ebay.  Hopefully, I'll be able to recover those.  Or maybe (hopefully) I was genius and saved them on my external hard drive back when he recorded them for me.  I'll have to check when I get home.  One would think that I would have so many memories to draw from, but it's almost like the harder I try to grasp for some, the more they elude me.  I've read that sometimes a face in the crowd, an object, a sound... random things will stir up memories, which will inevitably throw open the floodgates of tears.  I don't look forward to the sadness, but I partially look forward to being reminded of him... as if I could ever forget him. 

Anderson is the love of my life.  Our love is the life-changing kind.  Might be once in my lifetime and I'm OK with that.  I just... miss him. 

I don't know how the rest of you feel about continuing to read my daily thoughts.  I figure, I'll just throw it out there.  Maybe it'll help you feel like you talked to me today.  Or if it's gotten boring, you can just skim.  Either way, it's out there.

Just random thoughts today.

<3,
Tiff

Tiffany

<tiffany.g.ng@gmail.com>

Jul 22, 2009, 4:22:47 PM

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Hi everyone,

This morning was like any other morning... I woke up a little damp from sleeping on the vinyl chair/bed.  Hair was a mess. Eyes a little crusty... and morning breath.  I always open my eyes, put on my glasses and check his vital signs on the monitor.  If he's a little tachy (fast heart rate), I pray for that to go down... same with hypertensive or hypotensive.  Oxygen's good.  He looks just as peaceful as he did when I went to bed. 

It's hard to think that today, of all days... my husband... my Anderson... will likely be pronounced dead by someone I just met.  That information will be passed along and documented almost effortlessly... just data to be entered, paperwork to be processed.  It's hard to imagine, that today, on paper, my husband's life will have a date and time to go on the right side of the dash.  Anderson Chen, June 27, 1981-July 22, 2009. 

It hasn't officially happened yet.  Kelly had decided that she wanted to take him off the machine tonight.. maybe 7 or 8pm.  I still feel like I'm being rushed a little... but there will never be a time where I'll be ready so now's as good a time as any. 

No one knows the pain I feel.  That's between me and God.  I don't presume that I'm the only one who's gone through catastrophic loss or has even been confronted with death. Anderson was as much a part of me as I was to him.  I think that from what I've read.. and it's not much... about grief and loss.  I'd have to say that while some commonalities are present through nearly every person's struggle... each individual loss and each bout with grief is quite unique. 

In heaven, there are no more tears, no more pain... no more sickness, no more grief.  The pain I feel from being separated from Anderson... I only imagine that he feels an equal pain as I do.  It's too cruel to think that he passes on to ultimate joy whereas I am left here to suffer the loss on my own.  Maybe his pain hit him the moment before he passed.  Maybe he suffered through this same pain while he was lying there intubated and unable to speak or write about it.  I'd like to think that he'll be taken up into the clouds and since he's no longer bound by earthly time... that he'll see me right behind him.  He'll reach out to me and I'll grab his hand and join him, just "moments" later.  I think that would be joy to him.  Flying up together.  I could be totally wrong about what happens and what's going to happen.  But I'll just have to find out later on. 

It's getting close to that time.  People are waiting outside the room.  I'll just end now and write more later.

<3,
Tiff

Tiffany

<tiffany.g.ng@gmail.com>

Jul 22, 2009, 10:37:23 PM

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to ipray4anderson

Hi all,

After I ended this last email... I went to Anderson, laid on him and cried.  People started pouring in.  The chaplain, a few friends we made in Houston... there probably were a lot of people in the room, but I wasn't looking.  It was me and Anderson and I didn't care who else came in to see me cry on him. 

The chaplain said a prayer in Chinese.  His family came by one by one to say their last words to him... in Portuguese, Mandarin... friends came by... everyone said something.  Except me.  I just laid there on his chest... crying.

The doctor came in and asked me if I was ready.  I nodded.  When is anyone ever ready?

She said she was going to get her team together and be back. 

Kelly and her family left.  It was just me, my brother, my dad, and my aunt... and Anderson.

This may have been the point where I started wailing.  Or maybe it started earlier.  I can't remember. 

What was I thinking?  All I wanted to do was remember what it felt like to hold his hand... to look up at his face... to remember the contour of his lips... the way it felt to have my head on his chest.  I wanted to pause and record.  But I couldn't. 

Respiratory suctioned him and then just like that, he removed the breathing tube.  It was so abrupt. 

I was definitely wailing at this point.  Almost hysterical. 

I let myself go and I couldn't really control myself.  I felt like he was slipping away... but then... he took a breath.  And another, and another. 

They gave him one push of morphine.  And he kept breathing.  His heart kept beating.

I wanted him to wake up.  I wanted to hear his voice.  The only thing I had left was a video recording he did for me right before his laminectomy on 5/25.  I took out my phone and I played the video.  He said... I love you.  I love you so much.  We're going to get through everything together, just you and me.  We're going to be OK.  So there's no fear... (and then the video cuts off).  I said OK.  And I stopped crying. 

For a little while, we all just watched him breathe.  His breaths were irregular.  Some big, some small.  They started a morphine drip. 

My phone was still next to me... and I had some music saved in there.  So I played a worship song.  One after another.  I played songs for about an hour.

Ran out of songs on my phone so I took my laptop out and we played more songs there. 

He stopped breathing.  His heart was still beating. 

Blessed be your name.  I'm pretty sure it happened during that song.  Kind of fitting.  That song meant a lot to us.  It was sung at our wedding.  Some of the lyrics are from Job... which we read together before he was hospitalized this last time.  The line "he gives and takes away, our hearts will choose to say, blessed be your name" was what encouraged us after his surgical scar popped open.  And it was the song that was playing when he went to be with God.  God gave me Anderson, God took him away... and still my heart says... blessed be the name of the Lord. 

It hasn't really hit me yet.. that I will never again see his physical face, hold his hand... touch his skin.  My heart will never again jump when I see his name pop up on the chat list... or receive another email from him.  I'll never hear his ring tone again on my phone.  I'll never climb into bed with him or rest my head on his chest again.  I'll never again feel his arms around me or feel his soothing pat on my back.  Tonight, I said my last "goodnight... I love you" 

I miss him.  but I'm OK.  I'm so thankful.  and so blessed.

night you all.
<3,
Tiff