Last week during our visit back to The Ranch, we had an opportunity to my Aunt Pat.
My aunt, as you may recall from a couple of weeks ago, was diagnosed with cancer. Originally feared to be a stage 4 Pancreatic cancer, it seems to be two separate cancers at much earlier stages, one in the pancreas and one in the duodenum. Treatment seemed an option and she was willing. The first round of chemo happened two weeks ago.
When we saw her, she was clearly not at her best but seemed well enough. The chemo was hard on her: lots of throwing up and dry heaves. But she was able to walk out and see us last Saturday and we had a pleasant and lucid conversation.
Last Tuesday - six days from the publishing of this article - she was back in the hospital in critical condition.
The next few days were a fog, broken up by texts from my cousin to the rest of the "cousin" generation. Intubated and in ICU, she had a heart attack and at some point in that first day the doctor somewhat despaired of her life. She rallied though, and by Thursday was in sufficiently good enough state to ask to have the breathing tube removed. On Saturday she was transported back home.
Her reaction was to the chemo. She will be on hospice now where they will treat her various other conditions - heart, diabetes, etc. But no more chemo. Her body cannot take it.
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My reaction to the notification from my cousin surprised me: I was shocked in a way that I had not been with the passing of my own parents. Since that initial event, I have been trying to figure out why. My best guess is that most of the deaths in my family to date have been longer, drawn out affairs, not the almost suddenness of "Here Today, Gone (or Almost Gone) tomorrow".
Of my grandparents, there were only two sudden deaths - but even then, they happened when I was well into college and so there was not the nearness of seeing them so soon before their death. Of the others - the other two of my grandparents, my Aunt J, and TB The Elder and my mother - these were longer drawn out affairs. The end was known and the decline was visible, so when death finally came, it was not so much of a surprise as a small immediate shock that it had happened then, not before and now not later.
For my Aunt, she literally went from fairly functional to almost dying within three days.
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I try to find lessons, or at least things to ponder, in most of what happens. For this, I am struggling just a bit.
I know that death can, in theory, happen to anyone at any time. I know that, but do I really believe it?
Most of that is probably a failing on my part, brought on in part by the fact that we live in the modern world and so "sudden death" is term often reserved for sports, not for real life. This is quite in opposition to most of human history, where life was much more tenuous due to lower hygiene, famines, wars, and limited medical care. We assume we will live our allotted three score and ten (or four score by dint of strength) because that is how society works now. Sudden death is for other people in other places; even the sudden death of our elders carries the unspoken sense of "Well, at least they lived a full life".
There are two risks in this, of course. The first is a crippling fear of death that limits us from doing anything. The second is a devil may care attitude where we do not at all think of tomorrow, because who knows if tomorrow will come? Neither of these are healthy and both lead to, if you will pardon the pun, dead ends. (Using, I suppose, dead pan humour, which would make for the seldom seen double pun given in a dark humor manner. Almost the triple crown of dark Dad humour.)
The lesson? Maybe just to treat every visit with a loved one as the last visit. Maybe to strive to be a bit kinder to those around us, not knowing if this is their last day - or in reverse, if it is the last time that they might speak with us because of our own end.
There is something to the old concept that we live more fully by dwelling on death more frequently.
I think the ability to compartmentalize is a gift God gave us so we could continue to function. It would be debilitating to know about all the "monsters" that lurked just out of our vision.
ReplyDeleteERJ, I suspect you are right.
DeleteI am in the first part of Ezekiel now in the "Read through the Bible in a year". Ezekiel seeing the world as it really is, with all the splendour and terror of a Holy God, is a sobering thought.
The suddenness of a person's health rapidly declining in a very short time span can be shocking. Losing loved ones can certainly lead to appreciating those that are left and telling them that, there's no guarantee of waking up tomorrow even though it's happened for decades. Not talking about fearing what will happen to everyone but enjoy each day as the gift it is.
ReplyDeleteNylon12 - I have read of rapid decline often, but cannot recall seeing it in such a dramatic fashion. Even with TB The Elder while his stroke was surprise, it was clear he was not the man he once was and that had happened while I watched.
DeleteA good reminder that - indeed - every day is a gift.
Mom was in the hospital on Sunday afternoon, and died Wednesday morning. It was mercifully quick for her, but too fast for my family. It took me most of 20 years to grieve properly for her. Dad called when I was flat from a long week traveling for work. I told him I'd call him back. Two days later, he had a heart attack.
ReplyDeleteNow, I visit kin like it's the last time I'll ever see them as it may well be. After my dance with mortality a few years ago, I kinda have a devil may care attitude. I don't do risky things, but I talk more pointedly. I seek to use what I have left for God's kingdom. There are no guarantees in life, the only known is it will end sometime. I hope to pass along what little I know to others before I'm gathered to my people.
STxAR - Sometime ago I saw an episode of Home Improvement where the wife of Tim Allen's character - I forget her name - put off making a visit to her father by saying that she was sick. He died that night; her family was calling her to make sure that she was okay from her "sickness". That episode always stuck with me, for the very reason you describe with your father.
DeleteI will be going back this weekend for sure, and am trying to figure out if another flight is possible before the end of the year.
By "the devil may care" attitude I hopefully did not convey the very thing you are saying - talking more pointedly, talking more seriously. What I was alluding to is the sense of not giving any thought for the future at all and doing things that reasonable people might define as "foolish" - betting it all in Vegas or suddenly deciding to hike the Pacific Crest Trail with no training. There is urgency, and then there is rank foolishness.
Short of one uncle and my dad, my extended family is now all gone so there isn't a lot of worrying about others time and more worry about when my time will come. It seems bizarre to say this when just six years ago, I still had all my parents and 75% of my grandparents still alive.
ReplyDeleteI do agree with your thought to treat every visit as the potential last. I think it can work in the opposite direction too. I try to make sure my daughter leaves on the best of terms with every visit in case I may not be around for her to say goodbye too.
Ed, it goes fast, does it not. In the same time period I had both my parents and my in-laws, my uncle and his wife and my mom's sister, and at least two cousins farther out. Now I have my Uncle and my mother-in-law for sure and my aunt as long as she is with us.
DeleteYour second point is well taken as well. There is almost nothing that justifies ending a conversation or visit on bad terms.
God bless, TB.
ReplyDeleteThank you Linda.
DeleteThis is especially difficult because the thing that was supposed to help your aunt is the thing killing her. We all know about the long lists of side effects, but hope they never actually apply.
ReplyDeleteYou are so right about never taking anybody or anything for granted. Nothing is truly ours to keep.
Leigh, we do not. Many I have known have come through with few or no side effects. Why, in this one case, such a reaction, will likely never known.
DeleteI am trying to take it as a sad but necessary reminder about the relative importance of things and the fleeting nature of time.
Will add her to my prayer list. Aunt and Uncle who raised me and both bio parents are gone. I have 2 male cousins in a far state that I haven't seen in 50 years. Have 2 children, 1 grandchild. That's my entire family. Hubby died. I was there for every death so far and doesn't really worry me except for my three. Son was on plane out of Logan on morning of 9/11 headed for meeting in one of the towers. I'm still thanking God for that one. They were finally allowed to land in New Orleans once they brought everyone down that day.
ReplyDeleteAnon - Thank you very much. As the family on both my mother's and father's side have spread out, most of those sorts of deaths become a sort of tick box of events, real in that I knew them but not personally impacting. My cousin and I were walking through that two weeks ago; most of my parents' generation is gone (them, I mostly knew) and their children were either too old or too young for the most part to have more than a passing presence in the family reunions we would have.
DeleteWow. What a story for your son. God's hand was upon him indeed. I would think something like that would be life changing.
Thanks for the words of wisdom, TB. On a similar note, I have begun to lose friends, most recently one from childhood a few weeks ago who had stayed in our hometown. I went back for his funeral, and it was bittersweet in that it was sad to say that final goodbye and convey condolences to his wife (also a good friend) and family but heartening to see old friends I love. And I gave long hugs to those friends, not knowing when we might see each other again.
ReplyDeleteBob - Thank you, and and thank you for sharing your story.
DeleteI am reaching the age bracket where next time is a rather more dicey thing than it used to be.
I was fourteen. It was midnight, January 1st, 1976, when I shouted "HAPPY NEW YEAR" to Dawn, the girl across the road who had stolen my heart. We banged pots and pans to ring in the year, staying on our own front stoops because of the torrential rain that was falling that night. An hour later, Dawn was no more; the victim of a Christmas tree that had caught fire and ravaged her house. I have never since lost sight of the gossamer thread that binds us to the Earth, TB. Indeed, a few months back, I experienced a pain in the back of my left leg that ultimately drove me to the dreaded ER. The doc there said that I had a blood clot in the leg. He also noticed my persistent cough. I told him I'd had it for a few months. He ordered a CT of my lungs and found a really, REALLY large pulmonary embolism (blood clot) there as well. I was in the hospital for three days, all the while being visited by doctors, nurses, and medical students. I asked my attending physician why all the attention, and was told "Because usually by the time we see people who have the kind of pulmonary embolism you have, they aren't breathing anymore. You TRULY dodged a bullet here, Peter!"
ReplyDeleteSudden death is still very much with us. TB, whether it be by fire, disease, accident, or whatever. That being said, if you love someone, tell them... NOW... The only minute we're guaranteed is the one we're actually living in...
As for your aunt, I grieve with you...
Wow Pete. Those are all powerful stories, especially the first one. That would have deeply impacted my view on life at a young age, even as it seems to have done for you.
DeleteI have to admit that even since my cousin made that initial call, I have been thinking over things I have said in the recent past. Not all of them were noteworthy or meant with the best intentions.
I will bear this in mind for my visit this coming weekend.
October 29, 2007 my 28-year-old daughter-in-law was (to my mind) murdered by an habitual drunk driver. She was driving 60 mph and he was at 80 when he failed to follow a curve - head on at 140 mph. She left my son with two young children, 7 and 4 years old.
ReplyDeleteOur two families agree that the most important thing to come from her death was that we are diligent about telling those we love that we love them, as often as we can. And for me personally, since my daughter-in-law was a fervent Christian woman, I know that her death was in God's plan. That reminds me daily that when I die, it will also be in His plan. It may be decades from now or it may be 5 minutes from now. In any case, the days assigned to me before birth will have been fulfilled. Takes all the sting away, knowing that.
CJ
CJ - Thank you very much for sharing your story. I cannot begin to imagine that level of pain.
DeleteI have tried to be diligent about telling those I love that I love them, but I sometimes fear I have come late to that in life. I look back now on some of the arguments and disagreements I had - sheer foolishness now, over things that for the most part did not matter at all.
God has a plan for us - even in our passing, His plan continues to move forward no matter what the temporal circumstances are.
I was first relieved, then instantly grieved for you and your aunt that she will have no more chemo - and what that likely means. I'm praying hospice provides her the comfort and caring they are known for.
ReplyDeleteYour lesson learned is a very good one. A dear friend of ours is 94, and he appears to be going strong. He's still driving! But I have more recently had reason to think we need to treat his time here as more precious and fleeting. What that looks like, I'm not sure. I've only begun to wrap my mind around this idea.
And, of course, any of us could be gone tomorrow, so why don't I live as if every day is precious for THAT reason?
I don't have answers to my own questions, but I like what ERJ wrote above. And it appears that we just aren't wired to live every day as if it's our last. Until maybe someone numbers our days for us...
Becki -ERJ is a sharp and righteous dude.
DeleteI have every belief that hospice will perform as I have heard they do every time; her family is now all in the area and can be there to support as well.
Your question - "Why don't I live as if every day is precious for THAT reason?" - is a good one, and one I have thought on more than once in the recent past. Part of the answer, I suppose, simply lies in the fact that we get subsumed by the activities of daily life, the things we have to do. It is hard to "live your best life now" when your life consists a great deal of just doing ordinary tasks. I suspect the answer lies somewhere in finding a way to infuse the eternal in the everyday, though I am not at all good at that.