HOSPICE

Hospice Care

Definition: A model of care that focuses on relieving symptoms and supporting patients with a life expectancy of six months or less. Hospice involves an interdisciplinary approach to provide medical care, pain management and emotional and spiritual support. The emphasis is on comfort, not curing. It can be provided in the patients home as well as freestanding hospice facilities, hospitals, nursing homes and other long-term care facilities.

I got the call early Sunday morning. To come. Come when we could. The end is very near. Hospice has been called, Dad goes home tomorrow. It was his wish to be at home. I only wish somehow that he knew what was happening. I don't even know if that is the right thing to wish. The one perpetually in control, directing all things (my Dad, not God) is now in the most opposite of positions. Things are changing so quickly inside him. So many struggles, risks, battles lost, losing battles. Failing systems... failing understanding.

We drove 5 hours, spent 3. Dad slept for over 2, then our visit. Through his difficult speech he expressed frustration that he hadn't been awake for the first part of our visit. He hadn't slept in over 2 days. I was glad to let him rest, to just be with him. But like him, when he woke and his bright blue eyes found me there, when his face lit like a light bulb, I did have regret. I have it now.

I did not say "goodbye". I could not; not because I couldn't bring myself to due to my own pain. I don't want to cause him pain. I don't think he is now able to understand, though I'm told it's been explained to him, what is happening to him. That his mind and body are both failing. That he has had another stroke. That the pneumonia is not clearing. That his throat function is nonfunctioning, and that the months of struggling to eat, spending 4 hours to find a way to chew and swallow a tiny meal, is a cake walk compared to now. That his stroke risk and aspiration risk and choking risk and pneumonia and heart risk coincide with the, I'm told, inevitable shutting down of his systems, with his daily increasing dementia, which in conjunction daily decreases his ability to speak, or to swallow saliva, or ice chips. That his throat is nearly closed due to collagen break down from his leukemia treatment 20 years ago.
He is the strongest person I know, in so many ways. A less strong person would not have survived the amazing life he's had, would not have survived the past year, the past week. The doctors have said that the only reason he is able to speak, to form sentences, to converse and relate to us at all is due the fact that his brain is so developed, so many neural connections strong, so very brilliant for so very very many years.


I am certainly walking a fine line at every moment, in denial most times-- I must be, and living in the moment the rest of the time. Is it a sign of maturity, or a free and clear blessing that I am able to exist this way? That I am not superimposing past losses, fears, fear of loss at this time-- am able to think somewhat clearly, and yet still not feel a desperate need to over analyze and find a way out of this, to control it? I feel blessed. I don't feel mature. I do feel old. I am suddenly very tired. I break down more and more. I find myself looking for distractions, a few minutes here, a few there.

Thank you. Thank you. For being there. A few minutes here. A few there.

Game of Tag...

Wow, I've never been tagged on blogger before... Spring has sprung me something new! Thanks, my lovely Ciara!



What is your current obsession? What day is it? Probably taking pictures for blogs... Blogging... my new found Blog Friends!


What are you wearing now? Levis, black tooled leather belt, 1" wide striped black and red Norma Kamali hip-length fitted tee, (under or around $20 at Evil World Domination-Mart... I do shop there once in a great while and couldn't resist!) with long fitted sleeves that bell out below the wrists, and go to the fingers, wide, 2" diameter silver hoop earrings (slightly tarnished), my Wedding rings, little black Beatle-esque boots. (with rubber heels for chasing-children comfort...)


Who was the last person you hugged? My teen guy, after his break, right before the throes of homework ensued.


If you were a tree, what tree would you be? A Catalpa; more specifically the Catalpa in front of the the turn of the (20th) century Sears house my Dad had near the Sea for 17 years... *sigh*



This is a fine example of a Catalpa; just click to enlarge...


What's for dinner? Gluten Free (Pepperoni ,Vidalia Onion and Red Bell Pepper) Pizza-- Homemade!


What was the last thing you bought? What, you mean besides groceries? I bought mascara; I figure it's time to try wearing it again... and a little real fur skunk made in the 70's by Real Fur of West Germany, for my sweet little thing who loves sweet little things.


What are you listening to right now? Eva Cassidy, Live at Blues Alley. Also, the wind, and the sounds of the house that seem sweeter now that spring is seeping in...

What is your favorite weather? Real Summer: hot and dry and fine, where an afternoon Thunderstorm is not out of the question, lightning and lightning bug weather, where the trees are dark against the blue sky, the shadows are dark, shade is actually cooling, where you heat up all day, and the coolness comes at night, where you are rejuvenated by the feel of your bare feet being swallowed up by cold grass...

What is on your bedside table? How to open a Financially Successful Bakery, Siddhartha, Frommers Paris 2006, Shadow of the Wind, Special Places to Stay in Ireland, Beautiful Boy, Proust was a Neuroscientist... (the stack got to be too big, and continues beside the bed... do you want those, too?) Also, a little brushed stainless retro gooseneck lamp, and a clear plastic princess phone, where you can see all the parts, and it lights up when it rings (so you know when the phone is ringing when the ringer is off, which it always is).

What is your most challenging goal right now? To move forward with my old GREAT BIG goals, while gathering to me all these oh-so-inspiring, energizing and propelling new goals, and wondering if /how-long I will stay in this way; having more energy, and with it seemingly more time, while time available is really the same or less... and trying to keep up with the everyday, too.

Say something to the person who tagged you: I think you are amazing and I am truly blessed to have found you and to be spending time here with you!

If you could have a house totally paid for, fully furnished, where do you want it to be? Where wouldn't I want it to be? Malibu, Miami, Marblehead- Greystone Beach!, Oregon, Napa, New Mexico- Corrales Village would be nice, Key West, Ireland, Intercoastal Waterway- a charming historic town somewhere, England- London or the Cotswolds, Coastal Maine, France, Italy... any of those ought to do it...

Favorite Vacation Spot? Any of the above. Especially, my family's beach house, circa 1983-1993...

Name the things you cannot live without: my loved ones, music, beauty, nature, aromatics whether in good food, fragrance, nature. Water.

What would you like to have in your hands right now? My favorite perfumes; one discontinued, one seemingly on the way to be... (so here is my question:)

What is your favorite fragrance? Blue Carnation by Roget et Gallet, Dolce Vita by Dior.

What is your favorite/favourite tea flavor/flavour? Once again, I cannot pick! This is me and tea; at 6 am every morning, I drink Red Rose, probably because it's what my mother drank, and it has always come with a free figurine (by Wade) in every box, and growing up, I always collected the tea-bag tags as tiny pretend playing cards for my tiny bears and Liddle Kiddles, and my daughter now collects the cut white board dividers from inside to make bookmarks for everyone!

But also, as "recreational" and comfort tea drinking I very much love: Bigelow Constant Comment, Earl Gray (Twinings is ok), Black Currant, & Cranberry Autumn both from Harney Teas, and Genmai Cha (Brown Rice Green Tea) by Maeda En; the brown rice is toasted and roasted and some of the kernels pop and look like wee popcorn.

Here is a second question I've added; when it's time to brew tea, what do you use? Pot/pan, Kettle, Microwave, Electric Kettle, other...? Kettle, microwave sometimes...

What would you like to get rid of? Clutter, in my house... Prejudice and Selfishness, in the world.

If you could go anywhere in the world for the next hour, where would you go? To Ireland, but I would take my Dad with me! I'd just steal him away, and I know he'd go with such glee!

If you could have your portrait painted/made by any famous artist from any era, who would you choose? Tough choice! I must say Maxfield Parrish, but would also love Waterhouse or John Singer Sargent.

The Rules:

1. Respond and rework; answer the questions on your blog, replace one question you dislike with a question of your own invention, add one more questions of your own. (I cheated; I left all the questions and added 2, so you may omit 2 if you like, and still add one or more of your own.)

2 . Tag eight other untagged people. (And I say, "Or more. Or less!")

These are the people I'd like to have play, if they'd like to! Amanda, Miss Pine, Puanani, Ms. Kathleen, Lisa, & Tutta Rolf. Also, even though they are less familiar with me, and even though their blogs are not really inclined towards such things, I'd like to tag Noreen, Bea Fleur, and Adriana. It's still a fun way to be introspective... even if you don't publicly play. Still, it'd be grand if you did.

And, as a longshot I'll tag: Barycoise, and two other gents seemingly COMPLETELY out of the blue who's profiles/blogs I find intriguing: Chris and Peter.

You may, but needn't be, as wordy as I have been! ;) Illustrations not required... but I know all of you at least well enough to say, each of you seem quite creative...

ne sutor ultra crepidam

It has all become over-proofed. Like the dough, too long, the yeast extended to it's greatest, and it's product, co2, has run out of space to expand-- poof... there is nothing else to contain it. Odd that what has been experienced as joy, and potential joy, life changing energy, loosed for the common good, imperceptibly perceived by all, for weeks, even months, should escape as grief...

After all, joy is not happiness. They are not interchangeable. My heart has been inexplicably full, and I have been grateful. It has been evidenced in real (however transitory) changes in my life, my relationships, my perspective.

And yet, here I am, in grief.

My father is slipping away... I need to see him, to talk to him, to be with him, and yet am not able. Obstacles, which I allow, and obstacles outside anyone's control, get in the way. I experience him alone, without him here. Yet, he is not gone. Not yet, but slipping, slipping...

My teenager no longer needs me like once upon a time-- I never imagined how painful that could be. I embrace it in theory, yet my heart... it does not. Not yet. I know the person he needs to become, but transition is difficult; letting go of a connection, even relatively little by little, to a heart that was once so completely bound up in your own, is painful. It tears at me, causes me to behave outside of the love that I feel, and I am ashamed.

My hoped for friend, friendship offered, gently proffered, is not. I can no longer. How strange that I should feel so real a connection to one who claims their heart is closed, that life is trivial, that no real human connection can ever be made. How strange that our conversations awakened in me a recognition of the freeing nature of sublime beauty, of tragedy, of interconnectedness. How strange that their words should be cosmically moving to me, through no intent of their own, nor any recognition. Perhaps it is my own unwitting perception of this human tragedy that made our brief acquaintanceship so poignant. Yet I believe, I know there is more to it than that.

I am an adult, not some teen with grand illusions, nor hoped for allusions... I am not naive. So often cynical in the past, I now strive to intentionally create my own life's reality, with that which is within my power, and yet. And yet.

There are things I am powerless to control. Such a balance to be struck.

Soon, the door will open-- less than 5 minutes. The time for peace, for pure, shoulder shaking grief will rapidly wither, the pile of spent snowman napkins will be thrown away.

And I will go on with the duties in front of me, grateful for this pain-- that it should find an appropriate time, that it should be released. For now. I will go on with my day.


William Shakespeare:
Go to your bosom: Knock there, and ask your heart what it doth know.

Carl Jung:
Your vision will become clear only when you look into your heart. Who looks outside, dreams. Who looks inside, awakens.