No Rain but it's pouring

This seems to be a year where death pops up everywhere and in places you weren't expecting it.  I don't even mention it here every time someone dies because after awhile it gets to be almost unbelievable.

I got word of a friend who passed away yesterday and I'm shaken to the core.  Another one?  REALLY?

It never gets any easier does it?  The expectation that some of life's challenges would be like learning math or a new hobby-easier over time-is just wrong.  Loss never gets any easier and it never will.

Another Candle Gone

I received news today of another person lost.  I was going to add her name to Renee's candle, and instead the link broke.  Was someone trying to tell me to let it go?

Like Renee, Red was larger than life-a lot of woman wrapped up in a feisty package.  So much woman that  don't think any of us really believed she'd die-leukemia was just another thing for her to push past.  But, die she did, and a family member posted in her accounts to let her online family know.

Red was on her way too the hospital when Denise and I were on our way to Dallas.  We had intended to meet her for coffee-instead she went to Waco and never left.  It is highly likely we passed along I:35.  So  close, yet never to meet.  I was bringing her a pair of boots, they are still in my trunk.  So sad, one more thing left undone.

So sad.

Odd Reaction

I honestly thought Uncle John was dead when we walked in-he had no expression (Parkinson's) and his eyes were fixed and unfocused. My first thought was "how am I going to explain this to Mom without upsetting her?" and then he blinked.

I told Mom later and she laughed and said "did you think I wouldn't notice if my brother were dead?" but I think she understood the impulse to protect.

Another bizarre event occurred while we were there. Mom was lecturing John on eating, and she began poking him in his ribs..."look, look at those ribs" but it was like she was talking to a baby...."they stick out further than my boobies"...."MOM" I wailed, to snap her out of it....and she said "oh, what, John knows about boobies" and I just said "I can't sit here and talk about your boobies with my Uncle". Unspoken, was the thought that someone who spent 20 years alone might not want his ribs poked, or maybe he did.

Now it's all kind of funny now, but at the time my brain just overloaded for a moment. It's kind of like shock therapy though, because I've felt better since, of course, it may have something to do with the bowl of ice cream I ate.

Yes, lap band and all, I still eat ice cream. But honestly, I don't justify it when I do-it's a treat, it's comfort food, I'm very intentional about it.

I had the ice cream after I got the call that Uncle John had fallen again. I worked out with the nurse a plan to at least make a wheelchair available even if he won't use it. Then I went down, told Mom about the fall and my odd reaction and we had a lovely discussion of dead bodies in the dining room in the olden days and a good natured row about my not wanting to be viewed when I'm gone.

We joke about it, sometimes crudely, but we all agree that now is the time to hold hands and poke ribs, not later.

Scared

I want to write that I'm scared. Yesterday I signed Uncle J into hospice care, literally at least 10 forms giving him permission to die if he wants to and revoking this permission if he changes his mind.

I do understand fully why we have to go through this-we must protect our elders wishes to stay or to go. But this body and mind are more wired toward granting life, not granting death. My heart knows I did the appropriate thing, but my mind is going "this just really doesn't make sense does it?"

I started a series of writings and poems called "down the rabbit hole" because I knew that John's dementia was going to lead to some strange things. What I didn't realize was that it would lead me to the dementia we have created within our own society-where I have to grant an elder the right to exit with dignity.

I don't want to tell you these things because they are so bizarre and I'd rather frolic with the dogs. But, maybe if I tell them, someone else won't be quite so shocked.

I used to not understand why people wouldn't sign a DNR (do not resuscitate) order. Yet I kept putting it off. Now I know why. It's not an abstract order or idea. It's pretty specific. Without one, if the staff comes upon an elder who has died in their sleep, they are required by law to intubate, administer CPR and IV's until a doctor comes in and pronounces them dead.

I immediately thought of my Grandmothers, who died within 24 hours of each other, in their sleep. And yes, it was in their sleep and what happened after I didn't know about (till now) and it really didn't make any difference to them, but I was crushed to contemplate it.

In Oklahoma a DNR doesn't preclude oxygen or pain pills, deemed "comfort support", it just means when the heart stops, there will be no tubes or pounding. We have to legalize common sense, and worse, there has to be a responsible party-someone must sign on 12 dotted lines saying no tubes, no I won't sue if you don't use tubes and if some strange relative comes out of the woodwork, send them to me.

I've signed lots of papers in my life, made decisions for me and all kinds of people, some good, some not so good, but this one seems to be the hardest. I've explained it to the family, calmly and quietly, but I wanted to scream at them "I DID THAT...ME....DO YOU UNDERSTAND? I SIGNED THE PAPER" and in the same thought I feel just awful for making this about me.

No man is an island. Who said that? But it's true. John is not, and neither am I. We are both affected by what is happening.

But that was Thursday and today is Friday. Today I will visit Uncle John, take him some Butter Pecan Boost cause it's his favorite. If he has questions, I will answer them as best I can. Because I am not like the Pilot person-I don't sign things and wash my hands of them. I sign things, then I go hold his hand and wait with him.

This really is the part of the journey that no one speaks of, but if no one does, how will anyone else know what to expect?

I know what I'm going to do with regards to funeral arrangements, but hospice has suggested that I get prelims set up with vendors. And I do see the wisdom in that because I can easily see how people end up with ticker tape parade funerals. But vendors will have to wait till Monday-I'm going for some Butter Pecan Boost and a visit-and right now that is the hardest thing I've ever had to do.

Much Ado about Death

I just ate an entire box of dark chocolate covered altoid peppermints. This really isn't consistent with my current vision of health and in fact the box has been sitting untouched for several months (so they were nice and fresh when I opened them). But the onion/cauliflower salad I ate for lunch was not sitting well, the mints where there, they obliterated the onion taste an so there you have it. I guess dinner is officially altoid mints and 2 tbls of peanut butter.

Maybe the mints and peanut butter will join up with the cauliflower, onion and tomato and cause a proper blend of fat, fiber and protein somewhere mid intestine-hopefully combining prior to distributing their nutrients, if it matters. I don't know if it matters. There is so much I'm just guessing at right now.

I can only journey so far down the River Styx before I want to scream "life life life". I'm beginning to realize Mom can't take much more of John's demise and I feel a little guilty for my part in bringing it to her front door. But, I think it made him happy to see his sisters a few more times before things went downhill and I think it made them happy too.

But really, how am I to know because no one fucking tells me anything. No one talks about these things, even if only to say "I don't want to talk about it...." I've got to figure out when to keep a convo on point, and when to let it drift because it's too painful. How much to share....how much to keep to myself. What is appropriate to share and what I should keep to myself.... 2008 years of AD type civilization and not a single cliff note for death in America.

Some of this could have probably been thought about before now-pre thinking is good, but premature pre thinking is a no no, especially in this delicate matter. John, like myself, is one of those new fangled family models where there is no spouse or kids to handle the details.

He foresaw this-and early on made mention of the fact that it would be more efficient to handle things a little more forcefully, but I refused to discuss it and quite frankly, I'm glad I did. I would much rather muddle through this, as awful as it is, than be sitting in prison somewhere or emotional prison while I wrestled with the wrong/right aspect. I told him point blank "I will handle any details as they arise, but I will not help or discuss this any further," and I am telling you now as a way of absolving him from my rant.

He also graciously offered his home as a West Coast base of operations if that would make things easier. And that would have for this short time we are in, but probably vastly complicated everything else. Besides there was a 2 dog limit at the condo and these past years would have been impossible without my pack.

The legalities have long been handled, but a gaping flaw exists in the practicalities and family traditions area. We have none/nada/nilch. And, the elder's are reaching a point where survivors must be tended as well, so that the strain of a passing doesn't start a landslide effect.

Yes yes, there are a myriad of things to consider that no one every really talks about. I don't have any answers, just offering up the surprises as things for people to consider at their leisure.

Hospice is going to provide some relief and guidance, but they still require a signature on the dotted line and then someone has to break the ice so all the goodbyes can be said. And you know me, I hate having parties or long goodbyes.

One macabre yet fascinating point-I will become educated in the stages of death as well as notified of any changes. This is actually a relief, I haven't slept well in weeks, knowing things were drawing to an end, but having no clear idea of what the timing would be. Every time the phone rings I flinch and it's a strain to be under red alert all the time.

Until you enter the hospice program, each change is considered a crisis and treated as an emergency. My Uncle has had 3 bowel X-Rays in two months to confirm that he is not constipated. Some of those calls have come in at 11 pm or so. It's good to know he's not constipated, but it would make more sense to call at 11 telling me he is and something must be done, rather than to tell me he isn't and there is nothing to do. Oh well, no enema needed, go back to sleep.

Part of this is due to rebranding of nursing facilities as long term care facilities and not death sentences. In actual fact, they have wings now and people are segregated according to nearness of death. At "Fallen Leaves" (my Uncle's joking name for Autumn Leaves) the litany was "Outerwing, First Floor, Second Floor, Third Floor, Heaven". John told me this, I'm not making it up. He observed that at least they all got started off in the right direction.

At Southpark, there is no second floor-but the Alzheimer's Dementia wing is in back. Yes, the name of the facility he is in is Southpark. So, everytime I head off in that direction I have to sing that damn jingle "Goin on down to Southpark, gonna have myself a time....."

Life is full of irony.

Before the Grim Reaper Left for Mexico....

Ok, maybe I shouldn't joke about these things. I decided I had figured out the point to it all was just to experience it, what, three days ago? Now I'm ass deep in hospice decisions, obituaries from ex Mothers in Law, and the touchy, delicate question about what happens after hospice....so, while death takes a holiday (or not) I will deal with the questions of how to pick up and manage the pieces of life that are left behind.

First, Leah Rose Enochs-Died May 9, 2008. Obit in the Oklahoman today. I won't go to your wake or service because I'm ex-family and a long time ago, but RIP. For a time I loved one of your surviving sons, had one of your 27 grandchildren and a few other items of note that are best left un-noted. I liked you a lot, always thought you did the best you could, which is all any of us can do. It seems lifetimes ago that you were a sometimes daily part of my life. I know we both left Oklahoma, and then we both came back. I remember once you drove me to visit a friend of yours that had race horses, and I appreciate that kindness. You made a wicked apple pie and pumpkin cookies. I'm sure you'll get a grand old send off as you were well loved.

Dieing in America is far too complicated, in some ways more complicated than living. My Uncle John has a terminal illness and has been sent for another bout of testing to determine if yes, he's dieing, if it's still the same terminal illness or something new, and then I am to decide what to do with all this information, as if, by the powers vested in me, I had any more choice in the matter than he does.

The decision to begin hospice care is mine and I thought it was made, however there was an unfortunate change over in personnel and apparently it was not made. Or, it has to be made again because, understandably, the new personnel can't take here say in such matters. So, more tests had to be ordered, more meetings and a new grand decision has to be made again so that no one sues medicare or the facility or anyone else.

Anyway, I didn't do another full on poll of family members because no one really wants to talk about it. But I did bring up the delicate or indelicate topic of what to do after the end comes. Uncle John didn't want to discuss that, figured the military would handle it, and I'm not going to tell him they have no room for bodies in the national cemetary.

That branch of the family is pretty much disbanded and I already know how to find the ones I CAN find-there are a few MIA's.

The only clear advice I got was "don't go ask John about it now, " (well, thanks Mom), so I am going to make an executive decision. Mom and Dad have made it clear they want no service, no burial (donated bodies) but in absence of clear direction to do that, I don't really comfortable doing nothing. So, by the authority vested in me, I am going to give Uncle John a legal burial at sea as befitting a career sailor. That seems both respectful and practical.

Now, this may seem premature, Mom was horrified that I even brought it up. But if I don't figure out something now, I will have every remaining elder asking "what are you going to DO" five seconds after he passes away. As this was the only loose end he left, I don't want it to mar his otherwise exemplary and orderly life. And the John I knew would probably get a huge kick out of it.

One of my many jobs was as an engraver. One of the custom jobs I did was engrave urns for the Greek Orthodox church, and sometimes those urns came already inhabited. I decided at that point in my life I would respect everyone as much as I possibly can, but I was not going to haul around any cremains, but I will ammend that slightly now and accompany my Uncle.

It is possible, I kid you not, to mail your dearly departed and have them tossed overboard, complete with picture, urn and GPS coordinates. And Uncle John would probably be fine with that, he liked the no fuss approach. But death rituals are for the living as well, and I'm just not that modern yet.

Maybe by the time it all comes to fruition I will regret these words and long for a postage stamp. But at this point, I cannot fathom doing that.

Bringing out the dead

I am going to visit Uncle John after lunch, then go to my house and haul out the dead. One could be buried, 20 something just isn't feasible and the sheer numbers are a bit overwhelming.

Each one had a name and a personality and a history. Many I've raised from babies. Some were fairly valuable, some had value only to me. Some of them were wild caught, coming from Africa a place I've always wanted to see. Many were the current pinnacles of other people's breeding program-they best they had produced so far.

Death is such a strange thing. One minute, a being has all this potential, the next it's gone forever. Just gone. Where does it go?

Entire religions and societies have been built around what a group believes happens to us after we die. Wars, atrocities all because of what we think will happen after we die.

Maybe we should spend more time thinking on what we'll do while we are alive.