Hello! My name is Heidi Good Swiacki. I have been married to Steve for 25 years, which has been filled with laughter, trust and love. We have 2 great kids, Ashton 22 and Chris 16. I have ALS, aka Lou Gehrigs Disease. I was officially diagnosed March '05, I was just turning 45. This blog will be about a myriad of topics. I will share my ALS story which will hopefully encourage others. It will show that quality of life comes in many forms. I have to tell you up front that there will be some spiritual references. Don't be afraid or turned off by that. Since I have had ALS I have seen many miracles. Let's be realistic, who can be a happy, non-verbal,ventilated quadriplegic without Faith? I hope you will join me and make this an interesting, educational, inspirational forum. Humor and the ability to enjoy life is required! :)
Heidi passed away 3-25-13 :(
August 4, 2013
Hello, Steve here. To help with the healing process, I am going to continue on with Heidi's blog, primarily talking about our lives and how we as a family are learning to live on with Heidi's memories pushing us forward. Topics covered will be geared towards the affects ALS has on loved ones.
Wednesday, October 28, 2015
Thursday, September 3, 2015
I've lost friends, best friends, acquaintances, co-workers, grandparents, mom, relatives, teachers, mentors, students, neighbors, and a host of other folks. I have no children, and I can't imagine the pain it must be to lose a child. But here's my two cents...
I wish I could say you get used to people dying. But I never did. I don't want to. It tears a hole through me whenever somebody I love dies, no matter the circumstances. But I don't want it to "not matter". I don't want it to be something that just passes. My scars are a testament to the love and the relationship that I had for and with that person. And if the scar is deep, so was the love. So be it.
Scars are a testament to life. Scars are a testament that I can love deeply and live deeply and be cut, or even gouged, and that I can heal and continue to live and continue to love. And the scar tissue is stronger than the original flesh ever was. Scars are a testament to life. Scars are only ugly to people who can't see.
As for grief, you'll find it comes in waves. When the ship is first wrecked, you're drowning, with wreckage all around you. Everything floating around you reminds you of the beauty and the magnificence of the ship that was, and is no more. And all you can do is float. You find some piece of the wreckage and you hang on for a while. Maybe it's some physical thing. Maybe it's a happy memory or a photograph. Maybe it's a person who is also floating. For a while, all you can do is float. Stay alive.
In the beginning, the waves are 100 feet tall and crash over you without mercy. They come 10 seconds apart and don't even give you time to catch your breath. All you can do is hang on and float. After a while, maybe weeks, maybe months, you'll find the waves are still 100 feet tall, but they come further apart. When they come, they still crash all over you and wipe you out. But in between, you can breathe, you can function. You never know what's going to trigger the grief. It might be a song, a picture, a street intersection, the smell of a cup of coffee. It can be just about anything...and the wave comes crashing. But in between waves, there is life.
Somewhere down the line, and it's different for everybody, you find that the waves are only 80 feet tall. Or 50 feet tall. And while they still come, they come further apart. You can see them coming. An anniversary, a birthday, or Christmas, or landing at O'Hare. You can see it coming, for the most part, and prepare yourself. And when it washes over you, you know that somehow you will, again, come out the other side. Soaking wet, sputtering, still hanging on to some tiny piece of the wreckage, but you'll come out.
Take it from an old guy. The waves never stop coming, and somehow you don't really want them to. But you learn that you'll survive them. And other waves will come. And you'll survive them too.
If you're lucky, you'll have lots of scars from lots of loves. And lots of shipwrecks.
Monday, June 15, 2015
I used your post as a means to express my anger over what had happened to us. It is time to forgive, let go of the anger. Life will take care of itself and will only be better if we smile half as much as you did.
This will be our last post
We love you and will never forget your wisdom, happiness and most of all your smile.
Tuesday, June 9, 2015
Tuesday, May 26, 2015
Wednesday, May 13, 2015
Judge Approves Jail Release of Elderly Woman Charged with Killing Daughter Who Had ALS
Tuesday, May 12, 2015
Sunday, May 10, 2015
Many have talked about it was a mercy killing or Heidi asked that the plug be pulled.
I can assure anyone who is reading this blog, Heidi had no desire to end her life, she had her bucket list and it was not completed. She was alive, smiling, laughing and could still light up the room with her wit.
So please, don't think Heidi wanted to end her life. She felt it was in God's hands to take her when ready.
Unfortunately, the police don't believe this was an act of god.
Thursday, May 7, 2015
updated: May 07, 2015, 4:53 PM
Tuesday, March 24, 2015
On the 2 year anniversary of your passing, I had hoped we would be remembering the happier times when we were lucky enough to have you as our rock, but it is tainted by the investigation. It is tainted that the kids want nothing to do with your mother. She was such an important part of our lives as the kids grew, what happened? It is such a shame, she should be with us today.
To remember you, we are going to your favorite beach today to spread some of your ashes. I think we are going to go to the places you enjoyed most each year. Next year will be Boston.
Tuesday, March 17, 2015
Saturday, February 7, 2015
It was October 2013 the last time I had dreams of you, back then you were far off, but talked to me and in the end I remember gazing into your eyes and kissing you. It felt so real, I woke in disbelief that you were not there.
These recent dreams you do not talk, but you are walking and simply hug me, I can feel your arms around me.
As the ALS took you from us physically, I came to miss your voice, but what I really missed were the intimate touches, your hand on mine, your wrapping your arm around mine when we walked, your head in my chest, soft strokes across my neck
I wish I could understand how all this feels so real.
It will be 2 yrs in March since we lost you. We are still surrounded with so many questions and no answers. Were you murdered as the police think?
We miss you!