In January, instead of looking out to sea, Mike and I were wrapped in each others' arms talking of love and fears while the future loomed huge, unknown and without form. Our fears were not so much that I’d die, though Mike told me he didn’t want to lose me. Instead, we wondered about disabilities, particularly in speech, knowing that whatever we imagined, the reality would likely be different. Awaiting brain surgery, life felt precious. Never had I felt more alive.
Once a date was set for the surgery last January, preparations for a week at Duke/Raleigh Medical Center began. Arrangements for the care of Gypsy and Rosebud, our old kitties were made. Gabriella and Chad were quick to offer their services and just as quickly we accepted. Jane and Beth agreed to be at the ready as backup if needed. Over the years, each of these friends has taken turns in feeding, medicating and cleaning litter boxes for our furry pals. Knowing Gypsy and Rosebud would be very well cared for was a big relief. When we lived in a house with a fenced-in yard, we periodically had the pleasure of visits from Beth's West Virginia brown dog, Gracie. Alas, we no longer have a yard and Gracie has passed on to doggie heaven. It is noteworthy that most of our friends have multiple pets.
Next, we confronted "the papers". The last time we’d written wills and medical power-of-attorney papers, Mike was going to undergo a heart cath. Similarly, we had time to consider the consequences of the procedure and the decisions we were making. Though we were concerned, we were much more familiar with heart problems and the types of treatment available. This time, with two difficult surgeries ahead, we closely examined all of the “what if’s". Once again, we agreed on both medical decisions and disposable of our remains. Many people avoid discussing end-of-life issues. My sister, Susan, is one of them. I wonder why. Do they think death can be avoided or delayed by silence? When our dad was 93 years old and failing from Parkinson’s, Susan refused to discuss what was apparent to everyone. He died anyway.
Shortly after our families and friends were notified of the surgery date, my mother, familiarly known in the family as Gray, asked me if I would mind if she came to the hospital just before the surgery and stay until I was out of ICU. She had already arranged for Susan to bring her from South Carolina if I gave the okay. Gray, at age 92 years, is dependent on Susan for transportation. They live a block apart allowing them both privacy and Gray, independence. Surprised that she’d asked, I hesitated only a moment before saying, “Of course you can!”
Afterward, I asked Mike, “What concerns you most about spending hours with Mother and Susan at the hospital?” His answer, quick, simple and unequivocal, “I don’t want to get in any discussions about decisions we’ve already made.”
“I’ll take care of it.” I replied and e-mailed the following note to Gray, to Susan and her eldest daughter, Cyndi, a nurse who likes to take charge of others’ lives. All of them have strong opinions that seldom align with ours.
Dear Mother and Susan and Cyndi:
I'm so very happy that you will be able to accompany us in our journey through brain surgery!!!
Mike will have my laptop with him for informing everyone and fielding notes but will surely feel supported by your presence. His ease through this has been uppermost in my own mind and now I can let go of that........THANKS.
Today I'm getting all the legal stuff together....medical power of attorney, living will, etc.. I'd like you to know that all medical decisions have been and will be discussed within the confines of our relationship and express our thanks in advance to respect this boundary of relationship and privacy.
As I mentioned to Gray on the phone, we'll be staying at the Days Inn across from Duke/Raleigh Hospital starting Wednesday evening. Right now I've no idea if I'll be wanting to spend any or much time with you the night before....probably for a short bit....but I anticipate being a bit overwhelmed with the enormity of the operating procedure and want to sit quietly each night listening to meditation tapes on an iPod to begin the process of healing...One can so easily interrupt that sequence or let it be sidetracked or think it doesn't matter.....but, it really, really does. Sound healing is very powerful!!!
This is an adventure!!!! My curiosity and anticipation steadily grow as my knowledge grows. And the fact that you will be there is really GRAND!!!
Love,
Penny
Having established boundaries with the family, it was time we considered how to keep family and friends informed. Mike created a two tiered address list for the laptop he'd take to Duke. Family members and our closest friends would receive frequent updates. Everyone else would be sent reports when deemed appropriate.
When at CAMC General in Charleston, visitors came in a parade. (See Visitors) Duke/Raleigh is more than five hours from home, so it didn't appear to be necessary to put limits on visitors. Nevertheless, two of our closest friends came to see us at the hospital. Each one was in NC for other reasons and found time to check on us both. Once home, we notified everyone that cards were welcome but visitors and phone calls would have to wait until notified. Keeping everyone at bay was extremely important to me. It is the rare person who knows that post-surgery visits are exhausting for the patient and shouldn't last more than five minutes. Having set the boundaries, I relaxed.
It was fortunate we had time to organize the people and the communication network before we went to Duke. Post-op, I was unable to communicate normally and overall exhausted even without visitors. Mike took excellent care of me and everything else. His protective arm around my shoulder was steady and true and remains so today.
1 comment:
You are so fortunate to have Mike as a life partner. I feel so blessed to have met Skratch and really lean on him sometimes. Lovely picture, good story of how to take care of these delicate matters.
Post a Comment