Good Bye My Second Mother

This afternoon, just after 3:00, Carmen died. Her husband and several of her blended children were there to bid her farewell. We rolled her from side to side so she wouldn't get sore, rubbed her chapped lips with cream, and dabbed her mouth with a cloth to clear fluid she was no longer able to swallow. Choosing to die at home is a much gentler death than a hospital death with IVs and tubes and nurses taking blood pressures and such. She was up briefly early this morning, and then she went to bed and began the work of dying. When I stopped in around noon to see if there were any chores I could help with, Deb said that Mom was leaving. Intellectually, I knew that she was going to die at some future point, but this had a time frame attached to it--soon. Today. Clocks are tangible and there are end points...five minutes gone between each number, fifteen minutes gone, an hour gone. Carmen was really leaving. My heart was not grasping the concept. Dad and Carmen have been struggling with the flu since yesterday. He was trying to sleep between bouts of misery, when we woke him and told him she was leaving. He went into the bedroom and laid down across the foot of her bed, touching her and crying. His partner. His balance and ballast. Leaving him. And the greatest insult, leaving this life first. That was not part of his plan. He told me "I was supposed to go first."

Giving in to death is much like giving birth. She worked very hard to breathe. Even with oxygen she struggled, grasping for air to fill lungs that were rattling and filling with fluid, leaving less and less space for air. And then there was a transition point. After that, her breathing got quieter, softer, and less of a struggle until death wrapped itself around her and she snuggled in and left us somewhere between the last breath and the next one that never came.

Father Tom came and gave her last rites and commended her soul to God. That was a comfort to Dad. It is a ritual I have never witnessed. It was a gentle brief ceremony and as the priest left, Dad said he would be calling soon.

Her suffering is done. Her life--an honorable mission completed. The pain she chased around with medication, sometimes winning, sometimes weary with it, is gone. She is free. We, her husband and children, her family and friends, love her. I believe she went to a higher sphere where, this afternoon, another part of her loving family and friends greeted her with a big welcoming committee complete with hugs and tears and laughter and phrases like "you'll never guess what I'm doing now...." That thought is a comfort to me. Even so, tonight I can't stop the tears.

hospice

I stopped in to see the folks on my way home. It's been difficult not knowing ... but tonight Carmen said "a couple of hospice nurses stopped in this afternoon to see if I needed anything." I didn't know what to say. I flashed on the thought...wait a minute, this isn't what I wanted to hear. I wanted to hear that she's just had a setback and now she's on track and this summer during harvest she'll still make those bologna sandwiches on white bread with shasta pop and chips for lunch for the family/crew. But it isn't going to be alright. And she's probably seen her last cherry harvest. It was her way of telling me "I know I'm dying and I'm getting prepared." The conversation just slid along like she had said, "I'm getting my hair trimmed tomorrow." I said, "I have a friend who is a hospice nurse. She's an amazing woman. Is there anything you need, anything I can do." "Oh no," she says, "I'm fine."

Work and other thoughts

I have been working for a couple weeks as an "employee." The thing about my job is that I work for a gastroenterologist (doc of the digestive system: esophagus, stomach, intestines, gall bladder, and liver). A lot of people come in for a base line check when they turn 50...referred by their own doc. Some come in because they are having problems swallowing or with severe heartburn. A few come in with bleeding when they go potty. That's usually bad. And there is the prep they have to do to clean the colon out which is rather like a really intense case of the flu and totally not fun at all. Lots of toilet time. Plus the clear liquids and fasting thing. So some people come in really grumpy. But most just want to get it over with. So here we are, and the patient gets such good service, quality care, and caring staff. Really. It's amazing how I've never heard one complaint (granted I've only been there a couple weeks and then before that as a temp) but really, people compliment the staff, are grateful for the time and energy the doctor and nurses put into their care, and the genuine caring. So I'm in a good place with good people helping patients do preventative care mostly, and sometimes corrective care. Occasionally the outcome is sad. Even then it's a relief to know what's wrong. Colon cancer is mostly slow growing and can usually be detected early with a colonoscopy every 3 to 5 years and then it can be taken care of. It's not a glamorous job. But it can save lives. I appreciate the opportunity to be a part of such a great team. I'm on my own after next Friday. I have one week with the other receptionist before she's gone. Today I told her to tell me everything that she hasn't so far told me. There are a lot of little details. She just laughed at me. I'm not too worried because the nurses and the doctor are all open to helping me. It's already great, and it can only get better.

So all that fretting and worrying I did was for nothing. I just had to wait until the job was open so I could get it. The Lord knew that. Now I know that. I thought I had faith. What I had was endurance. But my faith was thin sometimes. And He blessed me anyway. Isn't that amazing?

On the home front, the news is mixed for the folks. Carmen had a scan this week and all Dad would say is that "it doesn't look good." Carmen won't say anything. She is looking sad and miserable and Dad won't look me in the eye when he talks about how she's doing. When we talk about how my job is going, he's very engaged. But not about what's going on with her. I don't know if he knows and just can't talk about it, if she's asked him not to talk about it, or if he really doesn't know the true extent of what's going on. I think it's the middle one. She's a very private person and it's her right to disseminate her medical information where, how, and to whom she chooses.

Dad is maintaining. He said the docs said it's a just brief reprieve. He says he'll discuss it with them next year. He looks thin, that's for sure. Since Carmen hasn't been feeling well the last week or so, they haven't been eating very well, so I started taking stuff over again. I know it used to irritate her, but I don't think she has the energy to be irritated with me anymore.

I just don't know how to do this. Watching someone you love die is so difficult. I cry a lot. Sometimes not even over them, just over stupid daily irritations. I was keeping my house up so nice, but since I started working, it's coming down around my ears. And I hate that. I forgot a very important commitment this week. So stupid.

Dying this way--slowly-- is a family process. I can't imagine them gone. I moved here to reestablish my relationship with them. A relationship that wasn't strained, but I was busy raising kids and working and going to school. I came to see them as often as I could, which wasn't much. So I moved here to paradise a year ago. And we were all excited. They were. I was. My brothers were. It has been a wonderful year. And just as my life is coming together, theirs is coming apart.

WHAT THE HECK IS GOING ON HERE? CAN ANYONE TELL ME?

Is it really the 9th?

I spent a great New Year's week at home with my granddaughter, Mom and Andy. The kid and I went sledding and we built a 10 foot long snow monster in my front yard. We drank hot cocoa with ghost marshmellows and before bed we had sleepy time tea. I miss my little partner in crime.

On Tuesday night/Wednesday morning, we had a Chinook wind with an attitude blow through here. A neighbor clocked the wind at 95 miles an hour. Seriously. I slept on the couch because the wind and rain were hitting my bedroom window so hard it sounded like the Marine Drum and Bugle Corp. Then the power went out. I have candles and blew them out before midnight to pretend to sleep. Shortly after that I heard a bang from my bedroom...sounded like a tree hit the side of the house (I have a cherry orchard in my backyard). So I opened my bedroom door and it was raining in my room and the wind was blowing and it was horrible. My window blew out. It was dark, my candles wouldn't stay lit so I could explore the situation and see how much damage was done (note to self, get batteries for the flashlight) so I did the only thing that could be done. I closed the door and called my brother. On my cell phone because the power was out and my telephone wasn't working. His smoke alarms were going off because their power was out. We decided there was nothing to be done in the dark, so I just laid there the rest of the night expecting to be in Oz by morning. But I wasn't, no witch's legs with magic shoes under the corner of my house, no munchkins to help clean up the mess, no critters and creatures to give a rip about my broken window, so I covered the window in my bedroom with a board, picked up broken glass, and called it adequate. Then I went into the little bedroom adjacent to my room because the basement door is in that room and I wanted to check and see if the basement was flooded (it wasn't) and holy smokes, the window in that room had blown out. But I was late for work (always a bad thing to be late at a new job) so I called my brother again and he said he'd come over and see what he could do. He called my landlord and together they installed new glass in my windows before noon.

I have been having problems with dimming lights, a stove and microwave that weren't working and heaters that didn't put out any heat since the big wind. Today a PUD Power Guy came by and asked, "you having power problems?" "Yep." "Got a loose wire up there," he pointed to the power pole, "I'll have to turn your power off for a few minutes to fix it." And he did. Now I can use my computer (haven't since Tuesday), talk on my phone, and cook. Unfortunately, everything in the freezer thawed out. But other than that, I'm back in business.

The foot and a half of snow that was in my front yard is gone. Our beautiful snow monster is just a memory. I asked Dad if it was time to plant peas. He laughed at me. There will be more snow, he assured me. Okie dokie, I'll take that as a not yet.

So that's how my year started. New job, new windows, new haircut (did I say I cut my hair?) So far, so good. I'm still breathing and really, that's my number one priority for this year.

Happy new year. (356 days till Christmas....something to think about.)