You’ve all heard me talk before about my best friend and amazing husband, Danny. And while I joke about him being a curmudgeon, he is genuinely a soft, caring and loving person who has a natural tendency to take care of me.
In Dying to be Me, you read how Danny rushed me to the hospital on February 2nd because I did not wake up. The evening before, I had counseled myself to just let go. I was too tired, and I just wanted this four year battle to be done. I didn’t have it in me any more. But, Danny did and thank goodness he did!
Over those four years of my illness, Danny never once faltered in looking after me. He pushed everything aside in his life that was not centered on promoting my wellness. He became my caretaker and went to extraordinary lengths to try to keep me alive. Danny had risen to heroic levels of caretaking, and I am sure many of you reading this will know exactly what that feels like.
What I want to remind everyone about at this time, is that putting yourself through the wringer, in order to help someone live, isn’t necessary. Danny worked relentlessly for four years to keep me healthy, and still, my body succumbed to the cancer. Regardless of how much Danny did for me, the cancer would not let go - until I had my NDE and I learned how to live my life fearlessly.
As a caretaker, your job is daunting; it is tiresome beyond description. The average person would not understand the strain it puts on you. So I would urge you, if you are in a caretaker’s position, please do everything you can to keep yourself charged up. You can’t be there for your loved one if you aren’t first there for yourself.