Dancing

Dancing is something we all do in some way.  Be it for fun or be it for competition, we love to watch it and we love to partake.  Be it at a wedding, a school dance, or at home to the radio, we all feel good when we move around and shake what mama gave us!  This is something Marsi and I loved to do.  It brought us together, made us one. I could see the smile on her face as  I would twirl her around and the giggle that escaped as she tryed to catch her feet.  We all have moments like this, a memory of an event where you and your life partner threw caution to the wind and just moved on the dance floor, uncaring of the looks of appreciation or horror that came from the crowd. Just the two of you is all that mattered. A moment created that means so much.

Marsi and I still dance.  With weeks to months left, as told to us by the Oncologist, we still dance.  Unfortunatly it is not the fun carefree type of dance that we would break out at weddings or events that made us laugh and live, but a more subdued dance that has meaning only to us.  When Marsi needs to use the restroom, I carefully pull her out of bed and into my arms.  She is unsteady and fearful of falling, but I know I have her and will lead her.  We walk and shuffle together through the bedroom, in a kind of rhythm, her forward and I back, moving to the restroom at a steady pace, a steady beat.  In a strange way, these moments of dance give me a kind of happiness and warmth as I remember better times with my girl.  I share this with Marsi as a smile, a quick kiss and the words "I love you" are whispered between us. Her smile makes me happy, a moment of magic like old times, and then we are back to reality as I help her sit down once we reach the bathroom.  We still have one more song on the way back to the bed and then she lays down to rest, exhausted from our dance.

To update you all on Marsi's current state, she just had a catheter put in on the left side of her lower belly yesterday. This will allow us to drain the fluid that builds up in her abdominal cavity.  The fluid comes from the cancer that now lines her abdominal wall.  Organs in our body have the ability to drain this fluid if the cancer is on an organ, but when it is on the abdominal wall, there is no natural drainage system available, so the fluid builds up in her abdominal cavity, needing to be drained by long needles or a specially placed catheter.  This obviously is no pinic for Marsi, but as I stated before, she is the strong one.

Today we sign papers, officially placing Marsi on hospice care.  I know this is the best thing for her, but it is still hard to accept or believe.  The kids will not accept that the end is approching and I often find myself questioning and wondering if there is anything else for us to do, to help her fight.  I want the kids to be right.  To find that miricle. To bask in childlike innocents and know mommy will be around forever.  It is all so unfair!  It is all so wrong!  Hospice will help Marsi now on her road to heaven.  Hospice will help the family move forward, as well.

Thank you to everyone who wrote a comment to Marsi and I at the end of the last blog entry.  I do read them and cry, and thank the lord we have such wonderful friends and family.  I have started to read them to Marsi and she loves hearing your kind words and memories.  Today, along with hospice beginning, I hope to video tape Marsi being with the kids and catching her smile a few more times.  She has touched all of us in a positive, wonderful way and know her memory will live on in all of us. 

So next time you dance, look your partner in the eyes, flash them a smile and tell them you love them, because memories can be cherished forever.

----Steven