Since Mary's decision of no more pain, things have been gliding along quietly. I think Dad is just taking the time to BE wih her, to enjoy the time they have for as long as they can. It is a shame that we as a species wait until we are flat out reminded of our guaranteed mortality to commune in such a way. It should be something we make conscious effort to do all the time. One can never be certain of one's truly last day here- it can come without warning of any kind.
And the family has to face yet another problem: my youngest brother (I am the baby)
has been diagnosed with prostate cancer. Good thing- it has been caught early. Bad thing- a family history of both my dad and other brother having irregular readings.
Good thing- being forwarned of this weird history might mean the readings are wrong.
Bad thing- if not, it is cancer....I won't go into further details about that.
Good thing- I know a lot of men who have gone thru this and come out just fine.
Bad thing- ...well, again, it's cancer. Not always a death sentence, but still an indicator. My brother just became a grandfather! He's healing from a nasty divorce, and getting emotionally back on his feet. Now this.
I cannot feel bad about my own life when I see this stuff, especially up so close. I may be pining over someone I can't be with, but I am healthy, and relatively happy.
I have to thank the Goddess for Her gentle hand in my own immediate life so far. For want of good health, there too go I .
Saturday, December 8, 2007
Friday, November 16, 2007
Confession
Really tired, but have been wanting to make note of the fact my dad finally sent out a long lettre to family and friends. Mary herself has made the decision- no more needles. She was adamant with the oncolgist, and despite knowing it puts a lot more definitity to her time here, dad wants to abide by it. I don't think we could do anything else really, but one never finds having to accept a loved one's mortality easy.
Thursday next, Thanksgiving Day, is Dad's birthday. Mary is going out with Sandy tomorrow to buy dad a present. She is determined to keep it secret too, so don't tell him! She has the blessing of retaining a child-like outlook. The lack of consistant memory helps in that she doesn't always remember about the illness. The doctor puts her time at between nine and twelve months, and in that time, the three of us closest to this are going to try to make it as easy, painless, and hopefully happy as we can for her. It isn't easy putting on a facade when you know death is creeping up on someone, but as long as I can i will sustain it. Nothing maudlin or over-doting....just a smile, a hug, a little closer attention than before. There isn't much else to do right now.
I wasn't happy to hear from Dad that Mary took a bit of a fall when they went out to play "tennis" the other day (they bat the ball around, but it doesn't qualify as a real game.) She got some mildly skinned knees, hands and shoulder, but more than anything to me, it may mean a weakening of her reflexes. I could be over-reacting; we all have taken falls from tripping over our own shoelaces. It would be different if she was just older (77) and not also quite ill. I feel like a young mother- gonna fuss over every little incident, even when I know I have to let her do and be for herself as much as she can. She knows enough not to try to cook anymore. I suspect dad misses some of her dishes...her cookies for sure. He also has to do all the cooking now, so going to the local cafe has become more common. He's staying healthy so far, so I am not too concerned. I do watch closer than I should though.
Had a pretty stressful week, and have been going to sleep earlier than usual due to that stress. I will write more later, but the sandman is tapping on my shoulder right now, and I am compeled.
Thursday next, Thanksgiving Day, is Dad's birthday. Mary is going out with Sandy tomorrow to buy dad a present. She is determined to keep it secret too, so don't tell him! She has the blessing of retaining a child-like outlook. The lack of consistant memory helps in that she doesn't always remember about the illness. The doctor puts her time at between nine and twelve months, and in that time, the three of us closest to this are going to try to make it as easy, painless, and hopefully happy as we can for her. It isn't easy putting on a facade when you know death is creeping up on someone, but as long as I can i will sustain it. Nothing maudlin or over-doting....just a smile, a hug, a little closer attention than before. There isn't much else to do right now.
I wasn't happy to hear from Dad that Mary took a bit of a fall when they went out to play "tennis" the other day (they bat the ball around, but it doesn't qualify as a real game.) She got some mildly skinned knees, hands and shoulder, but more than anything to me, it may mean a weakening of her reflexes. I could be over-reacting; we all have taken falls from tripping over our own shoelaces. It would be different if she was just older (77) and not also quite ill. I feel like a young mother- gonna fuss over every little incident, even when I know I have to let her do and be for herself as much as she can. She knows enough not to try to cook anymore. I suspect dad misses some of her dishes...her cookies for sure. He also has to do all the cooking now, so going to the local cafe has become more common. He's staying healthy so far, so I am not too concerned. I do watch closer than I should though.
Had a pretty stressful week, and have been going to sleep earlier than usual due to that stress. I will write more later, but the sandman is tapping on my shoulder right now, and I am compeled.
Saturday, November 10, 2007
From Issac Asimov
Life is Pleasant.
Death is peaceful.
It's the transtition
that's troublesome.
(he was fighting cancer himself
when he said this.)
Death is peaceful.
It's the transtition
that's troublesome.
(he was fighting cancer himself
when he said this.)
Friday, November 9, 2007
Relief
Everyone needs a support group- friends ,family, people who will just be there, when there isn't anything else one can do.
I wrote a long lettre to my sibs last evening, trying to bring them up to snuff about Mary and Dad. Dad's been busy and hasn't taken the time to communicate with the others what is happening. He can't get much time alone, due to an odd combination of Mary clinging to him, and a weird shade of paranoia she has developed. She in very centered on Dad, for all things. I am guessing he is the one truly familiar constant in her life. Sandy and I appear to be the other ones. And for some reason I have yet to completely figure out, Mary is constantly worried that people are talking about her behind her back. This started long before anyone had any reason to be secretive, and it has escalated as the dementia has worsened. All phone convos are questioned if she isn't listening in on the speaker phone, and writing e-mails is a no-no if she isn't in the room. I don't how much she can actually read and comprehend these days, honestly. She won't get on the computer anymore, not even to play her once beloved solitaire games. She feels she won't remember how. she could be right, but the mental exercise might also help. Using the brain is the best way to keep it sharp.
Anyway, my sibs all responded as quickly as they read the lettre, and while there really isn't much more than moral support that they can be (they all live in other states, more than a thousand miles away in three different directions,) it made me feel better. I haven't felt quite so alone in this with dad today.
Having to sit around, more or less on my hands, is really frustrating. The best I can hope to do is get Mary out of the house, or the bothof them, so they don't start sniping at one another due to cabin fever. Dad's pretty good about getting out of the house every day or so with Mary, just to get out. Sometimes he needs a little down time though, so Sandy or I try to get Mary to go with us too.
I am one of those people who reacts very fast and quite calmly in an emergency, the adrenaline sharpening me. Having to be so aware, yet moving at a near snail's pace is almost more stressful.
I am joking, mind you, but I wonder if I could get Mary to take a yoga class with me- get us out and let me relax at the same time! Dad takes her with him to go bat some tennis balls around. He's frustrated in that respect- he has played tennis since he was 14, and wants to get out and do that again...need to. It's a way to let off steam. And I can tell you right now, that 86 year old could beat the pants off of most of you!
Ah well. We slug along. I haven't heard from them today and it's too late to call now, but they were going to speak to an oncologist about "other options." I hope Sandy talked them out of it (she's a nurse.) Tomorrow. Tonight, I am lighter in my head and heart than I have been for several days, and I am going to go hang out with my "daughter " Medrith, and forget for a bit.
May the New Moon, and the Festival of Lights, Diwali, bring enlightenment and joy.
I wrote a long lettre to my sibs last evening, trying to bring them up to snuff about Mary and Dad. Dad's been busy and hasn't taken the time to communicate with the others what is happening. He can't get much time alone, due to an odd combination of Mary clinging to him, and a weird shade of paranoia she has developed. She in very centered on Dad, for all things. I am guessing he is the one truly familiar constant in her life. Sandy and I appear to be the other ones. And for some reason I have yet to completely figure out, Mary is constantly worried that people are talking about her behind her back. This started long before anyone had any reason to be secretive, and it has escalated as the dementia has worsened. All phone convos are questioned if she isn't listening in on the speaker phone, and writing e-mails is a no-no if she isn't in the room. I don't how much she can actually read and comprehend these days, honestly. She won't get on the computer anymore, not even to play her once beloved solitaire games. She feels she won't remember how. she could be right, but the mental exercise might also help. Using the brain is the best way to keep it sharp.
Anyway, my sibs all responded as quickly as they read the lettre, and while there really isn't much more than moral support that they can be (they all live in other states, more than a thousand miles away in three different directions,) it made me feel better. I haven't felt quite so alone in this with dad today.
Having to sit around, more or less on my hands, is really frustrating. The best I can hope to do is get Mary out of the house, or the bothof them, so they don't start sniping at one another due to cabin fever. Dad's pretty good about getting out of the house every day or so with Mary, just to get out. Sometimes he needs a little down time though, so Sandy or I try to get Mary to go with us too.
I am one of those people who reacts very fast and quite calmly in an emergency, the adrenaline sharpening me. Having to be so aware, yet moving at a near snail's pace is almost more stressful.
I am joking, mind you, but I wonder if I could get Mary to take a yoga class with me- get us out and let me relax at the same time! Dad takes her with him to go bat some tennis balls around. He's frustrated in that respect- he has played tennis since he was 14, and wants to get out and do that again...need to. It's a way to let off steam. And I can tell you right now, that 86 year old could beat the pants off of most of you!
Ah well. We slug along. I haven't heard from them today and it's too late to call now, but they were going to speak to an oncologist about "other options." I hope Sandy talked them out of it (she's a nurse.) Tomorrow. Tonight, I am lighter in my head and heart than I have been for several days, and I am going to go hang out with my "daughter " Medrith, and forget for a bit.
May the New Moon, and the Festival of Lights, Diwali, bring enlightenment and joy.
Thursday, November 8, 2007
Observations
We take our mental faculties for granted an awful lot.We do not stop to think to thank our brains for doing whatever it is they do for the entirety of our lives that allows us to be the creatures we are. Each of us is unique in so many ways, and yet that uniqueness can be taken away so quickly.
The scientist in me has stood back and watched my step mom's progression in this last several months, and frankly, I am startled. Most recently, it is nouns that are eluding her. Names. Things. A surprisingly large portion of our communication is based on having given things around us names that we all recognise- we spend hours trying to teach a small child the difference between cat and dog. I am watching all of that slip away from someone who has been around more than seven decades. Hell's bells! I couldn't write a third of this paragraph without nouns!
The really frustrating thing for her is that it seems to only be the words connecting to the items themselves that is the problem. Show her a picture of what it is she is talking about and she knows immediately that the two are the same.
I find myself somewhat horrified by my "dispassionate" noting of the changes, but at the same time I am trying to learn each time I see her again how I can communicate with her and know she might come away from the visit with some memory of it.
There may come a day when she won't recognise me when I go thru the door. Her mom had Alzheimer's, and had to be introduced to me each time I went over. One day, out of the blue, she called me by name, unbidden by anyone....but only that once.
Mind is a strange and fragile thing. Injury, drugs, a host of unknowns can take it away without warning. When it goes swiftly, at least none of the parties involved have to suffer for long. When it is seeping away, at speeds unpredictable by the best authority, it is almost painful to be near. I remember a vibrant woman, not all that long ago, maybe a year or two, with enough gumption to stand up to my oft-stubborn father. Now I see her stretching very hard to reach plateaus of comprehension that may never be hers again. It is exceptionally frustrating.
I can only say this of and for myself, and myself alone- if I ever started going thru something similar, and was aware enough of the changes, I daresay I would end this life, rather that drift to the end. "Better to burn out than fade away."
It is in the end not the decaying of the body that bothers us most. I think it would be the creeping decrepitude of the mind that scares us.
The scientist in me has stood back and watched my step mom's progression in this last several months, and frankly, I am startled. Most recently, it is nouns that are eluding her. Names. Things. A surprisingly large portion of our communication is based on having given things around us names that we all recognise- we spend hours trying to teach a small child the difference between cat and dog. I am watching all of that slip away from someone who has been around more than seven decades. Hell's bells! I couldn't write a third of this paragraph without nouns!
The really frustrating thing for her is that it seems to only be the words connecting to the items themselves that is the problem. Show her a picture of what it is she is talking about and she knows immediately that the two are the same.
I find myself somewhat horrified by my "dispassionate" noting of the changes, but at the same time I am trying to learn each time I see her again how I can communicate with her and know she might come away from the visit with some memory of it.
There may come a day when she won't recognise me when I go thru the door. Her mom had Alzheimer's, and had to be introduced to me each time I went over. One day, out of the blue, she called me by name, unbidden by anyone....but only that once.
Mind is a strange and fragile thing. Injury, drugs, a host of unknowns can take it away without warning. When it goes swiftly, at least none of the parties involved have to suffer for long. When it is seeping away, at speeds unpredictable by the best authority, it is almost painful to be near. I remember a vibrant woman, not all that long ago, maybe a year or two, with enough gumption to stand up to my oft-stubborn father. Now I see her stretching very hard to reach plateaus of comprehension that may never be hers again. It is exceptionally frustrating.
I can only say this of and for myself, and myself alone- if I ever started going thru something similar, and was aware enough of the changes, I daresay I would end this life, rather that drift to the end. "Better to burn out than fade away."
It is in the end not the decaying of the body that bothers us most. I think it would be the creeping decrepitude of the mind that scares us.
Tuesday, November 6, 2007
The Long Road
I knew it was coming, but my father's decision today still took me by surprise. I have spent the whole day in a funk. My step-mom is riddled with malignant cancer, and her memory is being eaten away at by vascular dementia. She remembers, sadly, the PAIN from her operation earlier this year, and is scared of more, as well as determined as one in her position can be of more. Dad had finally accepted something I know was beyond hard- he, we, have to stop trying to extend her life. My step-sister Sandy and I have been talking to each other, and were determined to quietly convince them to not do anymore. Circumstances are such that she will not survive, no matter what is done, and putting her thru hell for less than a 50% chance of anything doing any good....it just isn't worth what would end up feeling like torture.
When my mom was facing one more doctor with one more diagnosis, I was not a happy kid ( I was 40...) At the cancer hospital in Houston, the guy was to the point and as tasteful about the truth as one could be. I can't thank him enough. I felt mom take a breath, and the weight of the continued fight just fell away. My mom Jeanne Marie was of sound mind. The decision was completely hers and I trusted her to know what she wanted.
My step mom Mary can't be given that same trust about a lot of things. Something in the back of her mind knows it too, as frustrated as she must get sometimes. Luckily, she doesn't remember it for long. It's strange it is a blessing that she doesn't know......She does remember the pain though. Irony would have it that our most vivid memories are often of the worst things in our lives. I am personally determined that what time she has left- months, possibly a year or two, will be as pain free as we can make it.
And that leaves my dad.
I am made of the same material as my dad, and I know he wants to do as much of this himself as he can. The man is 86 though. I am concerned, but,as I know myself, I know him, and it will be a bit of a fight for him to relinquish some of the control. He loves Mary, and wants to protect her, no matter the difficulty. Sandy and I would like to see Hospice involved, which can be as much or as little as he needs.
This blog isn't too cry my eyes out- I have seen death too much for that. It is about giving myself a place to let out frustration without it getting in Dad and Mary's way, This really is going to be a long road, for all of us.
For now, I wait, doing what I can. Our entire world will change bit by bit, as Mary needs us more. I am wondering how to make it as peaceful and happy a time as I can.
Suggestions welcomed.
When my mom was facing one more doctor with one more diagnosis, I was not a happy kid ( I was 40...) At the cancer hospital in Houston, the guy was to the point and as tasteful about the truth as one could be. I can't thank him enough. I felt mom take a breath, and the weight of the continued fight just fell away. My mom Jeanne Marie was of sound mind. The decision was completely hers and I trusted her to know what she wanted.
My step mom Mary can't be given that same trust about a lot of things. Something in the back of her mind knows it too, as frustrated as she must get sometimes. Luckily, she doesn't remember it for long. It's strange it is a blessing that she doesn't know......She does remember the pain though. Irony would have it that our most vivid memories are often of the worst things in our lives. I am personally determined that what time she has left- months, possibly a year or two, will be as pain free as we can make it.
And that leaves my dad.
I am made of the same material as my dad, and I know he wants to do as much of this himself as he can. The man is 86 though. I am concerned, but,as I know myself, I know him, and it will be a bit of a fight for him to relinquish some of the control. He loves Mary, and wants to protect her, no matter the difficulty. Sandy and I would like to see Hospice involved, which can be as much or as little as he needs.
This blog isn't too cry my eyes out- I have seen death too much for that. It is about giving myself a place to let out frustration without it getting in Dad and Mary's way, This really is going to be a long road, for all of us.
For now, I wait, doing what I can. Our entire world will change bit by bit, as Mary needs us more. I am wondering how to make it as peaceful and happy a time as I can.
Suggestions welcomed.
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)
