Being In a Funk

I'm still having a bit of a funk going on in my life. To be expected, I guess. But, it REALLY is affecting me to see my best friend post pictures of her and her husband (who happened to be The Husband's best friend) on Facebook. They are very much like The Husband and I were, kind of joined at the hip, so to speak...in other words, spending most of their time together, rather than with other people. And she posts happy pictures of their trips together...something I don't begrudge them, at all! It just reminds me of what I have lost and how The Husband and I never got a chance to spend our retirement the way we had hoped. I think the time is going to go by VERY slowly for me until January rolls along! This, too, shall pass...

Ennui

I have had three bouts with depression that I needed 'help' with. Two times I had post-partum depression and once I was quite bad when everything went to hell-in-a-hand-basket with The Family. I have taken anti-depressants and I have seen therapists. The drugs worked okay, I guess. I have seen three different therapists and only one was worth what he was paid. So, my experience with mental health care has been mixed.

Over the years, I have pondered the depression issue. The Mother had it, The Brother has/had it, at least one of my daughters have had it...I guess you can say it runs in the family. Mine has never been so bad that anyone questioned whether I needed to be hospitalized, but no one really has ever known just how bad my depression has been.

I believe I have had chronic depression for most of my life...or maybe a case of ennui. Who knows? I do know I have felt 'empty' a lot of the time. That would be the closest way I can come to describing a good portion of my life. I have neither been happy or sad, just have existed. Even after The Husband died, I haven't really fallen into the depths of depression that I probably/possibly should have...I've just felt empty and experience a sense of 'ennui.'

Now, this isn't really as bad as it may sound. I could also describe a good portion of my life as comfortable. While I may not have had a lot of excitement and extreme passion, I have been content. There is a fine line between being comfortable/content and 'ennui.' If you're comfortable/content, you are satisfied with how things are. If you are experiencing ennui, you want more. And maybe that's just what it is for me:  Comfortable and content...satisfied. Maybe I don't have chronic depression after all. Something to ponder...

RIP...And The Important Word Is PEACE

I read the obituaries every day. Actually, I read two sets of obits...the ones where I live now and the ones from my hometown. I have to read the ones from back home, as there is no one to let me know if anyone I am acquainted with has passed. Sadly, I fully expect to READ a relative's name before being TOLD by a family member, first. This is one of the first activities I do after turning on the computer every day.

When reading the obits, I focus on a couple of things: Age and cause of death. Obviously, as one gets older, the age someone dies becomes more relevant. And the cause of death hits close to home, especially after The Husband's passing. And this makes me ponder...

So many people die because of cancer. So many obits mention a person's 'courageous battle' against this horrible disease. And I really can't relate, as The Husband went so quickly after his diagnosis. There was nothing we could do to 'fight' the cancer...it was too far along and he had too many other health issues. And, God forgive me, I think I am grateful.

Before anyone thinks too poorly about me, let me explain. First, after his diagnosis, he was hospitalized rather quickly. He was coming up on the completion of his second year of dialysis and things were not going as well as they should have. His access sites were not cooperating...he was in and out of the hospital having his chest wall graft 'fixed' far too many times and he was trying to heal from having a perma-cath placed, once again. The last day of dialysis at the dialysis center, found him having to be sent to the hospital because his blood pressure had bottomed out, once again. This was an on-going problem for the last days of his life and he didn't get a full dialysis treatment for over a week before he passed. I do believe this hastened his death. How much the cancer had to do with any of this, who knows.

I know--to a certain degree--what some people go through while in cancer treatment. I cannot imagine how difficult life would have been for us if he had started chemo. With two very serious illnesses, one would constantly be interfering with the other. He would have had to do dialysis right before chemo so that the dialysis wouldn't clear all of the drugs from his system before they could actually DO anything for the cancer...and then he would have to go and have his blood 'cleaned,' again. So, there would have been no rest for him, at all, as he was having dialysis three times a week. The week he was home between the diagnosis and his being sent to the hospital, was extremely depressing for us both. He was used to being able to go out-and-about whenever he wanted and having the weakness that he did was very hard on him. I don't know how much he could have taken...or WOULD have. I think there would have been a time when he would have just stopped treatment altogether; I remember when he started dialysis and he talked about people who quit, and he said he understood.

I have to keep myself from feeling guilty...I know that I helped hasten his death with decisions I made. At the end, he was not coherent enough to make any medical decisions and I had to use my power of attorney to decide what was to be done. I finally had to say 'enough.' Just before he was sent to hospice care, his perma-cath was removed...this meant no more dialysis. This also meant only--at most--two more weeks of life. As he was so weak, he passed in less than 24 hours, peacefully. I HAVE to keep telling myself that I did what was best for him. Thankfully, The Daughters were on board with all decisions and we made them together.

We all make choices every day...some are easier than others. Not everyone has to decide when someone is to live or die, thankfully. It is something that isn't forgotten...

Year One...

I have begun my weekend of self pity a little bit early. At first, I thought this was only going to happen on Sunday, but things change...

On Sunday, The Husband and I would have celebrated our 46th wedding anniversary. We would have been making plans to go out and eat and I would have been anticipating what piece of jewelry he would have bought for me this year. Mostly, our anniversary celebrations were very quiet...just the two of us going out to eat. We had never had a party, even for the 'milestone' anniversaries. I always anticipated the possibility of having a big blow-out for our 50th, but that is not going to happen.

I will now spend our anniversary by myself, thinking of what was and what never will be. I will indulge in junk food eating and way too many sweets. I will feel very sorry for myself and continuously ask, "Why me?" I will cry. And I will feel totally justified in my feelings.

On Monday, I will resume my life and get back to the 'new normal.' This is the first year without The Husband and it will be the hardest. I'm thinking that every year from now on will be just a little easier than the year before...at least, I hope so.

More On Being Alone...The Parent Dilemma

The Mother passed about a year and a half ago. I don't know if I ever thought she would go first and I didn't think she would go at the age of 80...just seemed too soon. However, as I told many people, she really hadn't been herself for a couple of years, so she 'left' some time before her death. It really hurt that we weren't able to get back to being as close as I would have liked after our estrangement, but, life goes on. Her and The Father had just celebrated their 64th anniversary.

A couple of weeks ago, I found out that The Father was having some medical issues. These 'spells' he was having were similar to what he was experiencing before it was determined that he needed a pacemaker, which he had done a few months back. Things seemed to be going well and then this...

He has been through a battery of tests and emergency room visits and appointments with his primary care doctor, all with the conclusion of "we can't find anything wrong." Yet, he still insists 'something' isn't right. The Oldest Daughter and one of my nieces said that they think he has 'given up' and has lost his zest for life. Very possible.

There are two things that could be happening here and I completely understand both. First, I think it is next to impossible to get the medical community to understand what you are going through...especially as one ages. I know that I can't explain my aches and pains in a way that doctors have been taught to understand. The terminology, for one, is so different between 'medical-ese' and 'normal' language, that it is next to impossible for one group to understand the other. While The Father is far from stupid, he still doesn't have the command of the language that someone else might have. He doesn't use the internet, at all, and really doesn't venture outside of his comfort zone when it comes to reading or what he watches on TV, so he probably isn't communicating in a great fashion. But even though I think I might have a better command of the language than he does, I find that I can't make myself understood either. And the way I explain this is here:  Think of the 'pain chart' with the emojis that you see in a medical setting or the pain scale of 1-10 in how much pain you're in. Do either one of these really represent what you are going through? And what if the pain you are feeling is intermittent? And what if what you are feeling is in no way a 'textbook' response to what a doctor might expect? (I don't have textbook symptoms with a lot of my medical issues, so what do they do with me?) It is very difficult to talk to some doctors and until they are given a lot of instruction about dealing with older people, I don't know that things will improve.

The second thing that could be going on is that he possibly is 'giving up.' And I so understand this. Feeling as if there really is nothing more to live for, isn't a death wish...it isn't a suicidal tendency. When your soulmate...The Father's of 64 years, mine of 45 years...is gone, especially when you are retired and 'left alone,' there really feels as if there is nothing left for you. You can keep yourself busy and do things, you can be with people and be happy with them, but it isn't the same. You have thought of yourself as 'we' for the majority of your life and now it is a non-existent thing. You really wonder what your worth is and if you even want to put forth effort to find out if there is any worth left in your life. Everyone else's life continues as normal for them (which it absolutely SHOULD) but your life is irreparably altered. And this is something NO ONE can understand until they have gone through it themselves. So, if he is feeling as if he wants to give up, I understand.

Now, for a solution to The Father's issues...  I don't know what to say about the medical thing. He is very opposed to anyone talking to a doctor on his behalf...and I'm not sure it would do much good anyway...especially if it is a communication issue. He doesn't feel as if it is anyone else's business what goes on at the doctor's office and this is something that we can't do anything about. (If you ever heard that Finn's are stubborn, then you KNOW what dealing with The Father is like.) So, until something is measurably wrong with him, he will continue to 'not feel well.' As for the being alone thing...if he could be talked into going into a senior citizen apartment complex/facility, I think he would have many, many happy years ahead of him. The activities and people would keep him busy and he would have someone around at all times so that he wouldn't/couldn't wallow in any self pity. BUT, this would have to be suggested in a way that he thought it was his own idea..not something that is an easy thing to do. So, until The Family can come up with a solution, this is life as we know it...at least, for now.


***Before anyone gets worried, I am NOT suicidal or wanting to die! It hasn't even been a year for me, so I still am trying to figure out what the rest of my life is going to look like. I still grieve and I still wallow...it is a process, one I am dealing with. One, three, or five years from now, I may look back at this post and wonder how I could have felt this way...one never knows. I live one day at a time for now, and that is more than I could hope for.

Bitter Pills

This is not going to be a feel good post. I just want to warn any readers ahead of time.  

Recently, there have been several stories in the news that have put me in a not-so-good state of mind. I HATE feeling this way...I am not a hateful person...I am not a jealous person...I am not ugly.

Alec Trebec, a somebody with lots of money, age 79, has been treated for pancreatic cancer, and is doing very well, might even be cured. Ruth Bader Ginsburg, a somebody with money, age 86, has been treated for pancreatic cancer for the second time, and is doing very well, might even be cured. My husband, a regular person with not much money, age 64, died from pancreatic cancer that had metastasized, and no one really went out of their way to try and cure him. To say I'm a bit pissed, is putting it mildly.

I won't say that my husband's care was sub par. He had other issues, along with the cancer, but I can't help but feel as if he would have had more aggressive treatment if we were 'somebodies' with a lot of money. Instead, he lingered for two weeks in the hospital with the doctors, basically, doing everything BUT work on the cancer. If I let myself, I could be very, very bitter.

It also hurts to see people so very much older than my husband, getting the aggressive care he didn't get. AND it isn't as if at least one of the two people I mentioned is in peak health...Ginsburg has pretty much been at death's door a few times and she's gotten top health care to pull her through. It hurts.

I probably could have gotten through the 'cured' stories if I wouldn't have seen the story* about kidney transplant studies that just came out. The study says that ten people, who have been offered a kidney for transplant and didn't get it, die every day here in the US. The bottom line from the study is that transplant centers are too choosy about accepting kidneys and will refuse donated ones because they aren't 'perfect.' And so, people die before getting transplants. I can't help but wonder if, and how many, kidneys my husband COULD HAVE had, but they were turned down by the transplant center. If he had been transplanted, he quite possibly could have lived a very full, non-dialysis life for three years...instead of what he went through. And could his cancer have been caught early enough to be treated? There are so many 'what ifs'...

These are dark thoughts...something I have to get through. I will wallow for a bit and then let it go. Sometimes you HAVE to wallow and be bitter, just so you can work through the emotions...it can be a big part of healing. I will work through this and come out the other end and be in a better place. My faith won't let me think I know better than God as to how things were to work out...I know He has/had a reason for things to go the way they did. I just wish He would let me in on the secret...

*Here is a link to the story about the transplants: https://www.medscape.com/viewarticle/917499#vp_1

More Transitions...

We all, throughout our lives, have fleeting moments when we think "What if...?" Not that we dwell on these things, but thoughts do cross our minds. As we go through life with our mates, we can think in terms of:  What if there is an affair; What if we divorce; What if there is a death?

After The Mother died and with The Husband's health issues, it did cross my mind that I may be left a widow. I ALWAYS shook off those thoughts, because frankly, I thought I would go first. (I never thought I could handle being alone.) Imagining myself alone was murky...I couldn't really get a handle on how it would work. One thing I never could imagine is what my being a widow would be like with my relationships with other people.

We didn't have a lot of close friends. With his work schedule, it was very difficult to get together with people that had 'normal' jobs. There were three couples that we socialized with on a semi-regular basis. One was a couple from our church. THAT didn't last all that many years, as he divorced her and 'we' didn't socialize with her and her (now) long-term companion. She and I are still BFFs. The second couple was made up of a guy we went to school with and a woman who came to be one of my BFFs. And the third couple consists of my husband's best friend from the Navy and a woman I grew up with, graduated with, and had as my maid-of-honor. She is still my dearest BFF. These are dear friends that will be there for me, I know, but the relationship has changed.

Consider being in a roomful of married couples...and you are a widow. No one treats you any differently from how they have ever treated you, but you don't feel the same. You can see everyone else has another person to stand beside, to go home with, to talk to, to be with. You are alone. Completely and utterly alone, in every sense of the word. You KNOW your children are there for you, your closest friends are there for you, but it is still going to be you by yourself when everyone else is gone.*

The first time you get this sense of COMPLETE aloneness is shortly after the funeral. For some days, you will have people call or stop in, just to see how you're doing. And gradually, everyone else gets back to their lives, which they SHOULD do. But that is when you know what loneliness is. You find that you can go days without talking to another person or hearing another voice other than what is on the TV or radio or computer. You may still interact with others via social media, but it isn't the same. It is part of your new way of living.

And then there is the flip side of the coin: For days you don't WANT anyone to contact you, to 'make sure you're fine,' to worry about you. You want to be self sufficient, whatever that means. You almost hunger for the loneliness as a penance for being the one who lived, when the other embraced life so much more than you did. Why were YOU spared when your spouse was the one who "loved his life."

As I write these posts, I know this is just me venting my feelings. This is what would be said if I was in therapy, which I don't need. This is NOT depression, just things that need to get out. Writing is my outlet, always has been, so I've decided to start blogging again, at least for the near future. Will I continue when I have let go of all I need to? Who knows? But for now, this is what is needed in my life...


*I in NO WAY fault my children or friends for not contacting me every day. That is NOT how these things work. Everyone needs to have their own lives and I need to get on with mine, by myself. This is the way it has been done, is being done, and will be done...

Signs...

I have posted often about the wildlife I enjoy watching here. My house is smack dab in the middle of our little city, but it feels very much like I'm in a much more rural area. The house is at the end of a dead end street which is next to a bike path that goes through a woodsy part of town. A lot of very old trees are in the neighborhood and thanks to neighbors who put out food every day, we get a lot of wild animals. The good: birds of ALL kinds, whitetail deer, grey squirrels. The middle-of-the-road good: red fox, raccoons. The not-so good: chipmunks, black bear, coyotes, skunks. I've learned to live with all of them, from the 'we will eat ALL of what you plant' to the 'watch out when you go out at night' critters, and delight in having them around.

Quite a number of years ago, I first saw a pair of cardinals at the feeders. The offspring (I don't think the original pair has lived THIS long 😉) continue to come to the feeders and brighten up the backyard, especially during the winter months. After building this house, it took some time for the birds to trust enough to come back to the feeders and the last of the birds to come were the cardinals. Every time they showed up was a welcome sight.

The dead of winter is not necessarily the most joyful time. Last year, weather wise, was extremely difficult. Snow, snow, snow, and more snow left me wondering WHAT to do about the house: Do I have someone come and shovel the snow off of the roof? Is it okay to leave that much on the roof? These were decisions I NEVER had to make on my own...The Husband ALWAYS took care of the house/outdoor work, so I just wallowed in my ignorance. Now, it was all up to me...

The Husband's birthday was on 4 January...just two weeks after his death. I sat at the table and watched the feeders that were placed near the deck. It wasn't a happy day for me...I was feeling very much alone and very sad. I missed my husband, terribly. I didn't know if I could make it on my own and didn't know if I WANTED to. And then, for the first time that winter, a cardinal came to the feeder. He sat and ate for some time and I KNEW it was a sign, telling me everything will be okay. So many feels from such a simple thing!

Last week I had to do some more on-my-own-adulting...didn't want to, HAD to. With last winter being as bad as it was, the (NOT GREAT) solution to where the sump pump drained, proved beyond a doubt that something needed to be done. I finally had to get someone over to give me an estimate on how to fix the problem...and (not surprisingly) the fix was what I wanted done in the first place. (I won't place the blame at ANYONE'S feet for the oopsy. 😁) While home repairs are a pain, having to pay big bucks on a brand new house is even a bigger annoyance. Something DOES need to be done and I had to make a decision before we start getting snow...which could be any day now. Just after the tech left the house after giving his proposal, I looked out of the window...there, sitting in the pouring rain, was a cardinal. I knew this was a sign that the decision I was about to make was the correct one. (I did also make another decision last week. I have decided to have gutters installed on the house...and I DIDN'T get the 'cardinal sign' that I made the right choice. Gutters on the house was one thing that The Husband and I disagreed on very, very much. Hopefully, I am right on this one. 😊)

So, to conclude this rambling and somewhat disjointed post: Comfort comes in many forms. We are not really alone if we are open to seeing what God will reveal to us. And things will get better...

All Over But The Crying

Later today we will have voted--some have already done so.  The phone calls (thankfully) will stop and the massive mailings will no longer show up in our mailboxes.  Unfortunately, we will then have to listen to the winners crow about their victory and the losers cry about how the election was stolen from them.  But, it will be over--maybe.

Every election in recent memory has brought out the 'nasty' in a lot of people, but this one defies all understanding--and I don't know how we, as a country, will recover.  The level that a whole lot of people have gone to to vilify 'the other guy' is mind boggling.  And it just isn't on the national, front page/TV show/radio stage, either.  We saw the depths of hatred in our own neighborhoods, among our own families and friends--whether on Facebook, Twitter, or in person.  From what I understand, friendships have fallen by the wayside and families have been broken by this election.  And I am appalled by some of the things I have heard/seen.

I can't imagine what went on in people's minds to do the rude, petty, and downright mean things that happened.  For example, one thing that I saw on the interwebs really described the entire election in one grand example:

One day I was doing a bit of surfing when I came across a blog post by a woman who I do not know.  She posted a picture of her dog using the neighbor's yard as a bathroom--an offense that is punishable in many municipalities, by the way.  Next to the dog doing its thing was a political sign of a candidate this woman didn't like.  In her post, with malicious glee, she said (paraphrased), "And even the dog knows (candidate) is crappy!"

Just when did we get to this point and where do we go from here?  I fear for all of us if we don't change, and soon.  The world just doesn't make a whole lot of sense anymore.

Remembering a Friend

The Butchart Gardens--not one of Pete's designs (that I know of ;))

My last post was about my friend Pete and the fact that he was living his last days here on earth.  Five days later, he breathed his last.  I have been so incredibly saddened by all of this and came to the conclusion that I have to write this post before I can move along.  Here is the story of Pete.

Pete's mother and my uncle's wife were half-sisters.  It seems strange that Pete and I didn't meet until I was in the later years of elementary school, as 'back home' is a very small and close community.  As it is, I first met Pete after my mother began working for his family and she took me to work with her.  He was two years older than me and it was obvious that his task was to keep me entertained so that my mother could get on with her work.  Even though Pete was in early middle-school, he never gave me the impression that I was a pain-in-the-ass or that he didn't want to spend time with me.  And this is the kind of person he was.

Pete's family owned greenhouses and a floral shop.  I still believe that my experiences there are what have made me love flowers and floral design as I do.  (I am not now, nor have I ever been, a professional designer--I have taken several classes and enjoy the process of making arrangements very much.)  We would walk through the greenhouses and see all of the flowers growing--I remember being shown how they planted poinsettias.  Pete and I even 'manned' the road-side store/hothouse on numerous occasions.  Other than this, I don't remember much of what we did on the days I spent there.  This is when we became friends.

As the years went on, I quit going to work with my mother, but Pete and I then became 'phone-buddies.'  The phone was about the only way we kept in contact, as we lived in different towns and went to different schools.  This is not to say we didn't get a chance to see each other, just that it wasn't very often.  Whenever I would babysit, Pete and I usually had marathon phone sessions.  I have no idea what our conversations were about, but I'm sure it helped solidify our friendship.

Just before I began dating my first love, Pete and I went out a couple of times to the movies.  It was as friends having fun together, but I often wonder if he would have wanted to move into a different direction.  This was not something I was interested in, so any spark was extinguished before it even began.  And this worked out well for each of us.

During my 'dating years' of high school, Pete and I had very minimal contact.  We both were busy with different aspects of our lives and with him being older than me, he moved onto college and the real world sooner than I did.  Pete got his degree in biology at our local university and spent many years working the family business before moving to Oregon.  When he moved to Oregon, he got his master's degree in horticulture and met and married his wife.  They returned to the family business and he helped make the area just that much more beautiful with all of his gardening skills and advice.

I must say a bit about Pete's skills with everything green.  He was the go-to guy when anyone had problems with their lawns or plants--and everyone in a 100 mile radius of where he lived knew him and went to him for advice.  Not only did he have his own call-in talk show on the local radio station, but he also taught the master gardener's classes for many years.  My sister-in-law tells the story of bringing a tree branch into his store in order to ask advice.  She said he told her more about the tree the branch was from than she ever wanted to know and he was able to tell her what was wrong with it and how to take care of it.  His knowledge was immense.

Pete and his wife ran the business for 25 years before retiring and returning to Oregon.  He continued with his love of 'beautifying' places and worked for the town they lived in as their master landscapist/gardener.  After being diagnosed two years ago with leukemia, he was only able to get back to his job for a few short weeks--something that must have saddened him beyond words.

Since high school, Pete and I saw each other rarely.  Actually, we had almost no direct contact with each other.  We didn't write and we didn't call.  This may seem strange, but it is what it is.  The most surprising thing, though, is that whenever we DID get together, it was as if we had just talked to each other the previous week.  We had a strong connection somehow and time didn't seem to diminish that in the least.  When we would see each other, after the first few minutes of catching up with each other's lives, we would settle into our friendship and just be able to talk.  It truly was an amazing relationship.

What can I say about Pete, the person?  He had the kindest, gentlest spirit of anyone I know.  As I said, he was a genius when it came to growing things, but I also remember he played the organ beautifully.  (I'm not sure if he continued playing after high school, but I remember him playing for me when I would visit at his parent's house.)  He was very spiritual and a very dedicated member of their church.  His wife had a particularly bad bout with breast cancer a few years ago and I'm sure her getting through it was partly the reason they were so optimistic about his chances of beating the leukemia.  Sadly, it didn't happen.

Arrangements are still being finalized for Pete's memorial services.  There will be one in Oregon and another 'back home.'  I don't think I will be attending the one back home, simply because of the enormous amount of people that will be there.  If less than 500 people attend the service for him, I will be shocked.  And in that crowd, I won't be missed by anyone.  I will send a card and note to his wife and remember him in my own way.

Dear Pete:  I am saddened by your death, but happy that you are now at peace.  I cannot imagine the joy you felt when you got to see the gardens of heaven and realized you get to spend eternity doing the very thing you loved best, taking care of flowers.  I will never forget you, my friend.  With love.

RIP

So Very Saddened

Almost a year ago, I shared the story of my friend Pete who was battling a very virulent type of leukemia.  He was doing quite well, but he (along with his wife and medical professionals) decided he would go for the 'permanent' cure and do a blood marrow transplant.  At the time, no cancer cells had been found in his body for over six months, but the doctors recommended the transplant as an extra step toward cure.  Pete and his wife decided to go along with the recommendation and he had his transplant on 8 August 2011.  Since then--as well as before--I have been following his 'story' on his webpage on CaringBridge.  This morning I read the latest post, written on 1 May:  Pete is going to stop struggling and hanging on and make arrangements to go into hospice.  It has been quite a while since I have been so saddened by something I have read.

The transplant went well for Pete and he even managed to go back home for a short period of time, but that is all.  Most of his time has been in a medical setting of one kind or another, whether a hospital, a long-term medical care facility, a rehab/physical therapy facility, or 'halfway' house.  He has struggled with emergency surgeries, enormous amounts of medications, side-effects from the medications, and other horrifying problems.  I'm not sure if he has gone many days without pain of one sort or another.  The struggle has been enormous and the doctors have said it is time to come to an end, they have no more that they can do for him.  It is at times like this that we realize how much medicine is still in its infancy.

I will spend the next days praying for Pete.  I will pray that his last days on this earth are as pain free as possible and that he and his wife can have the closure they need.  And I will pray that they will not look on the attempt to prolong his life as a mistake.  That last prayer, more than anything.  Go with God, Pete--I know He will welcome you with open arms and say, "Well done, my good and faithful servant."  (Matthew 25:21)