|2015 family photo shoot|
Oh, dear readers. It is with very heavy heart that I write the news of Doug's death on Tuesday, December 17. He was diagnosed with glioblastoma at the end of June, and left us just six months later. Yes, it was super fast. We had half the time together than I expected. But we are finding great comfort knowing he did not suffer any longer than he did. His last words were "UGH!!!" and "I don't want to do this anymore!!" - and he really hated being bed-bound and with zero agency.
[WARNING: EXPLICIT PHOTO OF DOUG'S FINAL HOURS AT THE END OF THIS POST]
He was deeply cared for by so many leading up to his last few days. Yomi was with me as we helped sedate him after being so agitated and uncomfortable. I will forever be so grateful to him for his gentle bedside ways with Doug when I was only frustrated and angry.
|Let's remember him this way|
And Doug knew he was going to go this fast. He told me three weeks ago "I don't think I will make it to Christmas" which I really refused to believe. I wanted to punch anyone who suggested he might meet an earlier demise in the throat, actually. But he knew all along. I have been getting signs of this that prove he wanted it to be just this way to limit the suffering of him and us who surrounded him.
The tsunami of tributes on Facebook is amazing to behold. So typical that someone is so grandly recognized posthumously. By attempting to keep the news of his diagnosis off Facebook, many people had no clue he was even going through this. That is how fast it happened. And I am very sorry for those shocked by it now and learning about it on social media.
|In late July- the bond they shared was so precious|
There is so much to say, and Clara and I need to catch a plane to finally see my aging folks in North Carolina. Watch for a formal obit soon.
And yes, we are gathering very close friends and family from all points around the world for a very small church service to remember him soon. Due to space constraints, we must make this invite only, unfortunately. PLEASE KNOW that we are designing a proper festive event full of fanfare and celebration for him in a few months- just like he wanted- and we will welcome anyone who wants to be there at that time. For now, we need to circle the wagons to grieve while emotions are high and in a way that respects all the many sides of Doug Fuller.
How did he go? I know you want to know. The best news is that he waited for me to let him go. Per the direction of our amazing hospice nurses, he had been in a deeply sedated state for 24 hours, snoring with mouth open and wheezing and not waking up. I thought he would come out of it. And it was so creepy and upsetting to see him in that state.
At 5am, something moved me to come find him in the room we made up for him. Many suggested I tell him it was ok to go, to release him, and that Clara and I would be ok. So I did that. Thank you Molly, Sydney and Amani for this counsel. He opened his eyes for a moment, closed them shut, and gave me five more increasingly slower, labored breaths before he slipped away. I know he was waiting for me to be by his side, and I know that he heard me. And that is what is saving me from extreme hysteria right now. He did not die alone.
Rest in Peace and Power my dear, sweet husbear. I feel you still with us and can't stop crying and telling you how much I will miss you, something I wish I had the chance to say much more than I did.
|Camp Tipsy tee and bow-tie|