Medical Cast (in numerical order)

Dr. #1 - Orthopaedic Doc from GR - the cool guy
Dr. #2 - Hip biopsy guy, located in The D
Dr. #3 - Leg tumor remover - 'Radiology Oncologist' - also in GR
Dr. #4 - Lung tumor guy - my main Oncologist
Dr. #5 - Lung biopsy/collapsed lung creator
Dr. #6 - The Plumber - Dr. Colonoscopy and Throat Sweeper
Dr. #7 - UM Lung Specialist - hopefully, The Answer Man
Dr. #8 - Orthopedic Oncologist - The Hip Replacer
Dr. #9 - Lung Surgeon - The Wedge Resector
Dr. #10 - Pain Specialist - Real Life McDreamy
Dr. #11 - Orthopaedic Doc Numero 2 - Investigator
Dr. #12 - REAL Pain Specialist - The Angel!
Dr. #13 - Spine Guy
Dr. # 14 - Anesthesiologist
Dr. # 15 - The Cath Man

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Monday, May 23, 2011

The Rolling Rock Ride

Hi B,

This past weekend turned out to be pretty busy for me. For the first time in months I had plans on Friday night. I guess you can't begin to understand what it's like to come home to an empty house, that used to be full of fun and good memories, to just the opposite. So any time away from home is welcomed at this point. And for me, Friday nights are the worst because that is a night that we used to spend together. It was a night filled with dinners and movies, or late night corn hole. So the once loved Friday nights, have become the nights from hell. The nights I spent taking sleeping pills and hitting the hay around 7...pathetic right? So as I was saying, this past Friday night I had dinner with friends and I actually stayed out late. It was so nice and so refreshing, and for once I felt a bit like Lindsay again, and this seemed to kick the weekend off on a good foot.

Then Saturday I decided to wake up and work out. It was early Saturday morning that I opened the garage and saw your old whip. It almost knocked the wind out of me. The whip I'm referring to is not a Porsche , but better, a custom made Rolling Rock mountain bike. And how we came to own this bike is worth sharing......

Imagine a summer in Chicago, hot and humid, with everyone out and about in Wrigley. It was the summer of 2006 when you came home with a clipping from the red eye. You had been asking for months to go and pick out a bike at Johnny Sprockets. That single summer day, you came across an ad for a Rolling Rock Bar crawl. You came in the door of our Wrigleyville apartment with a shit-eating grin, and a plan. This bar crawl featured many prizes, free drinks, and a grand prize give away...a Rolling Rock Mountain Bike...hence your plan. You decided that this was a bar crawl destined for us, and that you were going to win that bike. I'm thinking oh shit! You can't be serious. I mean how many bar crawls have I successfully gone on...hint, none. For one, I weigh a buck five, and I can't hold my alcohol. Never have, never will, and you know this! So a bar crawl is always an epic fail. And let's be honest, you can't slam the beers either. But once you get something in your head, it's almost impossible to change your mind, so I knew arguing with you about the negatives weren't going to get me anywhere. So I dove in head first...or beer first, or shot first....who knows at this point.

We started the bar crawl at Parrots on Clark, which has the vibe of a Jimmy Buffet Bar. We both enjoyed a few round of shots, and a few rolling rock beers. By now, I am feeling loose, and invincible, and you know that you are in for a long night. There is a drawing for concert tickets at Parrots to a Rusted Root Concert, and you'll never guess who wins.....LMuttz wins...that's right, LMuttz always wins! We proceed to a few other bars, where we both collect the standard bar crawl goodies....shirts, visors, beads, and wristband, naturally. By now LMuttz is out of hand and staying out much longer is going to kill me. I find the director of the bar crawl and ask him when they plan to give away the bike. He tells me that they plan to give the bike away at the last stop of the night....Harry Caray's. I know at this point that I need to get us to Harry Caray's and then get us the hell out of there.

We finally make it to Harry Caray's and I again find the young man in charge of the bike. I ask him when he plans to do the raffle and he says how about right now. I couldn't be happier. Seriously I could have kissed him....maybe I did, maybe I didn't. We had to fill out raffle tickets and had to hold onto them for the final drawing. Since I was being so annoying, the guy in charge asked me if I wanted to pick the raffle ticket. I quickly reached in the fish bowl, and pulled out my salvation. That ticket was the end to the night, was a stop at the McDonalds on Clark with a 10 piece nugget meal and large fries, it was a foot rub and a raging hangover...it was an end, or so I thought. After picking the ticket, I begin to make my way through a sea of people over to you. You stood attentively by the announcers booth. Like a little kid on Christmas day. You had your ticket in hand and waited. It is then that the winning ticket number is read. I am just thankful at this point that the bar crawl is over, however in an instant I see your hands go up. I know right now that you just won the bike. You start cheering that you won the bike like a crazy green bay fan...don't know why I went with Green Bay, first thing that came to mind. You run over to me, pick me up, swing me around, kiss me, and tell me that you just won the bike. I am totally shocked because I just picked your raffle ticket. What are the chances? I mean seriously. This doesn't happen to normal people, this happens to us. You were so happy and so damn proud of that free bike. And so when I see that bike, I see you. I see us. I feel our memories, our life.

That Rolling Rock Bike represents you. You lived life to the fullest. There wasn't a slow moment in our short life together. You taught me what it was to live, and so when I sulk on Friday nights, I know that I'm letting you down. These next few months are going to be pretty hard. The end of June is going to be the unveiling. Seeing your name on a headstone is going to set me back some. Not to mention I am going to be ringing in my 30th b-day without you, followed up by Arleigh's birthday, our anniversary, and then Roen's B-day. The summer used to be my favorite time of year, but right now, it's not looking to great.

I am trying my best, trust me. I even golfed alone this past weekend. I have never in my life had such a hard time finding a golf partner. It is during those moments, I miss you the most.

I am still thinking of you, and miss you more than words can say.

All my love,
Linds

Saturday, May 14, 2011

The Hope Chest

Today was the second time that I decided to clean the house since you passed away. I know, kinda sick right? I don't want you all to think that I was living in a pig pen, or a house that could be confused with that of a college boy's bachelor pad, because I wasn't. I cleaned here and there, but when you were ill I damn near cleaned and sterilized the house at least once a week. I felt it important to give you my best, and that meant keeping the house clean so that you were free from infection. So today with it being a bit gloomy, I got ambitious and decided it was time to really clean.

What I didn't expect was to be flooded with emotion and memories as I sifted my way through paperwork, watches, wallets, and closets. Everything I touched brought back a piece of you. It started with the bowl on the kitchen table. There I found hospital bracelets, B's we got this bracelet, notes and love letters that I had left for you over the course of your illness, and wonderful pictures that the kids had sent. The counter held your lacoste watch, a watch that screams, you. It was something we picked together, and it is something that brings me back to you everything time I see it. My cleaning simply stopped as I sunk to the floor and cried. It is still a hard realization that you, Mr. Benjamin Mutnick, are gone. And now I had to decide what I should do with these things, these memories, your belongings.

My Uncle P made me a hope chest this past Christmas, and I decided to make this your hope chest. It's funny that our hope does not represent hope at all. It represents what is left after hope is gone. Our hope chest, is a vault of what we had hoped to have one day, a life together. This cedar chest has become a box of memories of you, and I, and what we had. So as I cleaned, I moved watches and wallets there to be stored forever. However it was so difficult knowing that I was putting your things in a box, in a damn box. I moved your favorite Northface jacket into the hope chest, and then decided that I wasn't' ready to put that into the chest yet, and as of right now I'm still wearing it. It feels like your wrapped around me, Your scent is still there and I can see you walking toward me wearing this wonder kelly green jacket. There are so many thing that I want to save forever that I feel that I might need a hope house. A place where I can store everything forever. I think that people would really think I was over the edge if I had a hope house....hahahah. The bonus to grieving such a deep loss, well there is no real bonus, but I'm looking for the silver lining, is that I have a license to be crazy. I can do almost anything and it blame it on you. Isn't that every wife's real wish?

My therapist told me a month ago that I needed to start cleaning some of your things out. He told me that your things were just things, and not you..... profound right? Like I didn't know that your favorite tee shirt was not you! However I personally feel that your education only gets you so far, because he has never suffered a loss this great, and doesn't understand what it means to hold onto every memory I have of you. After all, I only have memories, and he still has his wife and kids. So to honor his request I started to clean out the bathroom closest. I started by throwing out your contact solution and face lotion. However I had a major panic attack, took everything back out of the garbage, and put it back into the closet where it belongs. I then blacked out, and finally settled myself back down. I was so mad, because I told my therapist I was not ready, and I was right. I'm not ready to let you go. I'm sorry, but unless you go through something like this you just don't know, you just can't know! And at this point I could care less what people think. I need to do this in my own time, when I'm ready.

I'm not ready for a lot of things yet. I tried my hand at golf this past week. It was a hot mess. Oh my gosh Josh. I couldn't get you out of my head, not to mention I haven't golfed in almost 2 years, and my game is off. I need you to come back and help me. I often wonder if golfing is something I am really going to be able to do without you. Golfing was something we shared. We loved golf. You loved golf. I loved you. So this weekend has been pretty crappy so far...that's being kind, but I hope that after a good workout, I can move forward and find some of that silver lining I'm looking for.

I love you and will see you tomorrow.

Forever yours,
LMuttz