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Make a decision or others will - Where's God - Whoosh - date with fate post 66
This entry was posted on 10/19/2011 1:30 AM and is filed under Fate Fairies.
The following account delves into one of the darkest times in my life - aside from those encounters with almost kicking the bucket myself from meningitis or blood clots.
My father died in 1988 at 70 years old. I was in Texas at the time and had made a couple trips back to Wisconsin in the last two years of his life to look in on him. He had a lingering lymphoma cancer. Then, he had "slipped into another bad spell" as my mom would say. I hesitated a bit to make the journey yet one more time back to Wisconsin. Sure enough, I hesitated a couple days too long - he died that time.
A dozen years later Heide and I were living back in Wisconsin again. My mom's health began to fail - she too had gotten a cancer. Not wanting to be on the sidelines with her struggle, I became active in her care. And it should be noted, I did not have much of a choice; I am an only child. They don't teach you that in high school. We learned quickly, that if as a family member you do not take action, other not-so-family-affiliated entities will start making decisions for you - lawyers, nurses, doctors, social workers, Hospice people... When she got too frail, we tried to bring her out to our house in rural New Glarus. We learned the hard way, we had plucked her right out of her comfort zone. New Glarus was 40 miles from her caregivers and social network in Janesville. We promptly moved her back home.
About that time, she had become eligible to receive care from Hospice. But, as we learned, they do not do 24-hour care. They do a lot of services, and they were there off and on throughout the day, but evening and night care was up to the family to figure out.
Early on she had hung on in Hospice care and had been able to stay fairly independent and did not necessarily need someone at her house 24-hours per day. In fact for a short time, Hospice was pulled out because her condition leveled off. But about six months later she got the word her cancer was making a come-back. This time she really became frail.
The hammer fell when I was sitting at a four-day Emergency Medical Technician conference over in Milwaukee. I received a page from Hospice. When I called the nurse, I got an ear-full of questions about Mom's condition I had never heard before. She had reached a new level of illness. The nurse began to ask me what actions to take. It was clear I needed to see the situation for myself and left the conference in mid-session.
When I got to Mom's house, it was obvious things had changed, Mom was going to need a special mechanical bed. I ordered one and had it put right in the kitchen for easy access to everything. My nursing assistant, EMT training, and blue collar work had served me a bit well at least - make work as easy as possible.
Also, I noticed that some small decisions had been done in my absence. Mom had been told she was not to go down the stairs, and in-general she was not to go outside or even get near the car. She had loved to drive her little car. It was the consummate story of old age - the loss of freedom. She had a 1990 Chevy Corsica. It is a damn reliable vehicle. She and "advising visitors" were making plans to sell it.
"Hold on," I said. "I'll deal with the car." As I should, as power of attorney. Poetically, I still have the car. The 22 year old work horse is a dandy work car. I think in retrospect, she would be pleased I made such long use of it.
I called Heide. "We got to make a life decision," I said.
Mom had hinted at selling the house. I knew an apartment or nursing home would actually be more expensive to facilitate. The house had been paid for in full for years. In rather short order we decided I would live with and serve as her attendant until she died.
"As power of attorney, you can pay caregivers or even yourself out of the assets of the person to whom you are overseeing," my attorney suggested.
Since I am an only child, I decided not to pay myself. If anything was left after the onslaught of the end-of-life battle, I would get any remaining assets anyway. But, most people lose everything at the end of their lives. The last six months of life are often the most expensive time of an entire life. I did pay a nursing assistant to come in a few nights per week at the very end of Mom's ordeal.
It was incumbent upon Heide and I to at least try to help Mom. Mom and Dad had tried so hard to be frugal all their lives. And they had helped us as best they could get off to a little life together. It would be a shame, we thought at the time, for her to lose all her stuff. And, I will always be haunted that my mom at 68 years old had to care for my dad as he died. Someone should return her the favor.
College was put on hold. I took a leave from my job at "The Y" and also from the emergency medical service.
I moved in with Mom for what ever would be the foreseeable future. Hospice still came of course. In fact, they were relieved. They do not cotton to helping a patient who can not be left alone at all and there is no relatives to make decisions or stay with the person.
"Do you realize what you're getting yourself into?" one of my more thoughtful tech college instructors who was my own age asked. My situation made people my age that still had parents, stand up and take notice.
The teacher's query was prophetic. Heide and I were about to enter one of the most complex and stressful years of our long relationship, and for sure, our entire lives.
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The days were long and lonely. Mom spent a great deal of time sleeping. When she was up, I had to act as caregiver. The role of son fell far into the background. I called Heide and told her to ready Sam the cat to come an stay with me. He was a tough little farm tiger that had trouble getting along with our other cats.
Sam's companionship through the ordeal was quite soothing, but, he seemed lonely as well. I called Heide and had her ready Sidney the old yellow and orange cat we had rescued in Dallas from some naughty neighborhood kids. I found them hitting him with a stick. That had been 13 years prior. in old age, Sidney had been relegated to our old barn out at the country house in New Glarus - a kitty nursing home of sorts.
Young Sam and old Sid became inseparable friends and partners in crime - kitty crime if you will. Mom never was able to appreciate their presence. It bothered me that this woman that once maneuvered and helped run a dairy farm, and one with over a hundred animals, barely even noticed the warm creatures that would sit on the end of her hospital bed.
As it turned out, the two beasts were more therapeutic for me, than for Mom.
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I sat day after day, night after night, biding my time keeping vigilance over Mom. I set up a phone, a small table, an easy chair, and a tiny television in the living room. But, I had little time to use my small area of reprieve except in the middle of the night. Mom lived on a hospital bed in that kitchen/dining area. It was the best place for her - close to the food preparation and adjacent the large sliding glass door and its window out to Mom's back yard. I put her big television near her bed.
She spent most of her time staring at the television. Her caregivers shuffled in and out. Now and then, an old friend or two would come by to say goodbye. A neighbor lady often dropped in and told me to go take a walk and she would watch Mom for an hour or so. Mom's brother called the neighbor lady, "an angel."
I knew she was in terrible pain. The doctor set up a Morphine drip. Mom's brother said, "Morphine is a bad sign; the jig is up."
One of the last times she was able to get out of bed, she leaned against the bed frame with her frail body and she paused; she looked at me for a moment with her sunken and desperate eyes and asked....,
"Where the hell is god?"
Here was this woman who was normally tiny even in good health. She was around 100 pounds throughout her adult life. She had flaming red hair until her later years. And of course there was that fiery Irish temper to go with the hair; yet, she had an extraordinary compassionate side to match the furry. Here was this woman who had helped me countless times in youth and adulthood; this woman who had walked the walk and cared for her ill husband "in sickness and in health." Here she was - reduced to a wreck of a person; only a specter of what she once was - now even smaller in stature than usual.
What could I say; I said nothing. I am not necessarily very religious.
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The morning Mom died, I was exhausted and sitting in my cubby hole in my easy chair. As I nodded in and out of sleep, I was suddenly jolted awake. The house was quiet as usual. The only noise was hum Mom's oxygen machine.
I rubbed my tired face, rubbed my eyes, and then..., there was an odd silent whoosh that flashed toward and through the front door. I had a strange feeling. Was I dreaming? But I was awake enough.
When I peeked around the corner I could tell Mom was gone. I checked her pulse but it was a moot action on my part - I knew she had left us.
Apparently Mom's god had finally arrived to take her away from the misery her last weeks on earth had become.
Note: This blog "Jobs of Bob" Category does not list the jobs chronologically - I write about the experiences as they pop up in my memory and I often revisit an older job. Go to the Cooldadiomedia Web site and the Jobs of Bob Page for an ordered chronology.
Wisconsin Military Service Person Special Mention of the Week
(each week Cooldadiomedia mentions a Wisconsin service person killed in Iraq or Afghanistan)
Navy Reserve Petty Officer Second Class Michael Charles Anderson, 36, Daytona Beach, Florida (Formerly lived in Oshkosh, Wisconsin) was killed on Sunday, May 2, 2004 in Ramadi, Anbar Province, Iraq. He was one of five sailors killed in a mortar attack on their base. Anderson was attached to Naval Mobile Construction Battalion 14, out of Jacksonville, Florida.
An Associated Press article posted on militarytimes.com notes Petty Officer Anderson was a member of the Navy Seabees construction force. He had only been in Iraq for around a month. Michael Anderson was a 1986 graduate of Oshkosh North High School, in Oshkosh, Wisconsin. Anderson had been married for eight years and had a 7-year-old daughter.
The Web site news-journalonline.com out of Daytona Beach, Florida, mentioned Anderson was born in Daytona Beach and moved to Wisconsin with his parents and his sister. An obituary posted on americanmemorials.com said Michael Anderson had moved to Wisconsin in 1969. Michael had joined the U.S. Navy after graduating from high school in Oshkosh in 1985. He spent time on the USS Forrestal aircraft carrier out of Mayport Naval Station in Jacksonville, Florida. The Orlando Sentinel indicated Michael Anderson left the regular Navy in 1992. Michael later worked at the Baylor Plastering & Drywall in Holly Hill, Florida. There he worked overseeing installation of the acoustical ceilings that are standard in most offices. He joined the Reserves a few months after the September 11, 2001 terrorism attacks. Anderson's Reserve Unit deployed to Iraq in April of 2004. Another article in the Web site news-journalonline.com mentioned that the 730-person Seabee unit out of Jacksonville Naval Air Station, was charged with carrying out humanitarian aid that included water treatment, sewage treatment, and re-establishing electricity. Around 400 sailors from the unit, including Michael Anderson, were sent to Iraq. The journalonline.com also noted Michael Anderson had served in the first Gulf War.
At the time of his death, Petty Officer Second Class Michael Anderson was survived by his wife Karen; two daughters, Brandi and Amber; his mother Sylvia Anderson; sister Sandy Anderson; two nieces, Jennifer Berry and Crystal Berry; and mother and father-in-law Connie and Tom McGlone.
Navy Reserve Petty Officer Second Class Michael C. Anderson the 95th military service person that has been identified by Cool Dadio Media as having Wisconsin connections and that has died in Iraq since the Spring of 2003.
As of this blog entry's posting date:
102,953 Iraqi civilians have been killed in Iraq since Spring, 2003 (actually documented).
10,125 Iraqi Security Forces have been killed in Iraq since Spring, 2003.
4,481 Americans have been killed in Iraq since Spring, 2003.
1809 Americans have been killed in Afghanistan since October, 2001.
318 Coalition soldiers have been killed in Iraq since Spring, 2003.
955 Coalition soldiers have been killed in Afghanistan since October, 2001.
1 American/Coalition casualty in Libyan "Operation Odyssey Dawn" since March, 2011.
32,209 U.S. troops have been wounded in action in Iraq since Spring, 2003.
592 Wisconsin military service persons have been wounded in Iraq since Spring 2003.
14,455 U.S. troops have been wounded in action in Afghanistan since October, 2001.
192 Wisconsin military service persons have been wounded in Afghanistan since October, 2001.
107 Wisconsin military service persons have been killed in Iraq since Spring, 2003.
36 Wisconsin military service persons have been killed in Afghanistan since October, 2001.
3 Wisconsin military service persons have been killed in the U.S. related to "The War on Terror" since September, 2001.
150 journalists (several nationalities) have been killed in Iraq since Spring, 2003.
22 journalists (various nationalities) have been killed in Afghanistan since September, 2001.
5 journalists (regional and independents) have been killed in Libya since March, 2011.
Wisconsin military service person special mention of the week, military casualty, and journalist casualty information sources: Committee to Protect Journalists; cnn.com; Milwaukee Journal Sentinel; washingtonpost.com; thehighground.org; Wisconsin Department of Veterans Affairs; iraqbodycount.org; www.defense.gov/news/casualty.pdf; and, icasualties.org .
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