August 11, 2008
Loss is something every human being deals with at some time or other in life – it can be part of the glue that brings us together or it can be the thing that pulls us apart and causes us to war with one another. I remember my first “loss”. I couldn’t have been more than four years old. We lived in Pennsylvania and I was going to go trick-or-treating on Halloween. I had a doll I was very fond of who went everywhere with me. My mother urged me to leave the doll at home in case she should be lost. Typical of what would later become part of my personality, I took her anyway. During the walk up and down the dark streets, she was lost and I was bereft.
I, like so many others, have faced several periods of loss in my life and I am experiencing one now. I have the urge to “blog” this loss with you because I think so many of us here at church are either in a series of loss different than mine, or maybe similar. As one of the sandwhich generation, I have this last month, been dealing with issues related to soon losing my dad. It has been a painful time for my family.
This first entry will be rather long and represents some of my journal entries in the last few weeks. I will try to update it more regularly after this initial push. I would so appreciate hearing your thoughts, suggestions and your own issues. I will try to pray for you and hope you are moved by God’s grace to pray for our family as well.
7/26/08
Yesterday I spent half a day with dad at the doctor’s office. He fell a couple of days ago and has five cracked ribs and the beginnings of pneumonia on the left side. The doctor gave him a shot of anti-biotics and sent him home. I don’t know how many times Tami (my sister) and I have told him that if he doesn’t use his walker (he doesn’t), he will fall and hurt himself and end up with us not being able to take care of him any longer. I have told him at least 100 times.
7/28/08
I went today to pick up dad for the day as Tami will be gone all day. He seems pretty weak to me. I gave him some prescribed Darvocet for pain but he is very restless and agitated today. He gets up, then sits down. He can hardly walk. About 11:00 he said he wanted to go to the doctor or the hospital, that the pain was ‘pretty bad’. For my dad, that says volumes. He doesn’t like doctors, hates hospitals and would never request to go to one on his own! Jonathan and I had to help him walk everywhere and then he couldn’t get up from the bathroom seat. I took him in to see a Physicians Assistant and she did a pre-admit to the hospital.
On the way to the hospital, I did have a chance to talk with dad about spiritual things. He said he’s not afraid to die and is ready. He really did sound at peace but I told him he would probably rally and lived to see 100. “I hope not,” was his reply.
Tami’s coping skills are pretty minimal right now and I’m not far behind. You’re never really ready for this scenario. It seems when someone comes to the end of life, loved ones are never ready – whether it’s quick and unexpected or slow and agonizing.
I feel engulfed in a sea of anger right now – perhaps it is coming from “loss”. Loss of my dad, mentally for sure, perhaps physically, as well as other areas in my life. In my reading through Deuteronomy, the verse that I read today helps: 4:9 “Acknowledge and take heart this day that the Lord God is in heaven above and on the earth below…”
7/29/08
I woke up this morning thinking about shipwreck – and that is how my life seems right now. Shipwrecked on a shoal of troubles. All my hard-won attempts at lifestyle changes in treadmilling (not for 2 weeks) and eating changes (I ate a WHOLE pastrami sandwhich yesterday – which I don’t think I’ve EVER done), have been sabotaged.
This is one of the seasons in life when you feel like crawling out of your own skin and trying someone else’s on for size – not that theirs in the long run would be much better.
I think yesterday’s earthquake is a metaphor of where I am in life right now – ‘pretty shaken up, a bit shattered with large pieces of my life being shaken from their moorings.’
Dad didn’t recognize us today – some of the drugs have increased his confusion and his mental status. I never know what to expect from day to day when I go to visit. It’s like being someone’s puppet – being jerked around by the great unknown. The enemy has obtained a foothold in my life and is attempting to separate me from a sense of knowing God’s presence is with me. He will not win – I know God will never leave me.
7/31/08 4:20 a.m.
When someone you love is dying, there is within yourself almost a will to suffer – almost like your own mini-death. There is a feeling of needing to suffer alongside – not sure whether that thought comes from guilt or something else. Last night I was willing myself to feel my own physical aches and pains – a strange need.
I don’t want to write about the process of dad’s going downhill – it is painful – it is loss. But there is still a spark in me that wants too get the good out of this – to perhaps help someone else walk the walk a bit taller – maybe for my own son who, God forbid, has to walk this walk for me or John some day.
First there is the guilt that somehow you could or should have done something to avoid the situation. For me, it’s, ‘should I have taken dad to the doctor and asked about hospitalization?’ Would he have gone downhill this fast if I had tried to keep him home?
Then there is the guilt of betrayal – the feeling of not wanting dad to suffer – but not wanting me to suffer either – the guilt of hoping he won’t linger in the state he is now in – he doesn’t know us; he is uncomfortable, in pain, delusional, confused, combative, belligerent – not the dad I knew 4 days ago even. I don’t want my dad to live on in this hell when I know his heaven awaits and will be so much better.
But I also feel guilty for not wanting a nursing home to be my new focus – demanding that I always be on the alert for dad, that my new life will revolve around being on guard to see that my dad is not abused. To be brutally honest, I don’t want that inconvenience. My life is already inconvenient and adding on another distasteful task to my already stressful life, does not sound agreeable.
There are also conflicting emotions – the guilt of feeling angry at dad for not preparing us for this – he was the dad! He should have talked with us, helped us prepare for this day or done something more – especially after mom died. Instead, he was in avoidance mode – he never wanted to deal with any of this and he never, never wanted a nursing home as an option. He didn’t give us any alternatives. However, on the way to the hospital Monday, he almost redeemed himself. “I’m sorry to be putting you all in such a mess.”
Tami, Pam and I have to make horrible decisions in the midst of a fog of great pain and suffering. That makes me angry. Tami is dealing not only with loss of someone she’s lived with for a year, but also the financial devastation of having added a room on with no way to pay for it; Pam has long distance devastation – of being capable, but not reachable. I have the horror of leading the troops in the midst of a sea of my own pain - of having to make reasoned decisions in the fog. And Brett doesn’t even have a phone I can contact him at – his pain is also going to be monumental – he will lose not only his dad, but his home of 45 years. We will have to sell. None of us can afford to pay dad’s mortgage.
Then there is the reality of having to make major decisions in the midst of the gloom of suffering and pain – which nursing home? How will we pay for it? Will dad be aware of where he is and will he cause more guilt by begging us to take him out? Will we be able to get Medi-cal? Where are the papers we need? And always in the background of my mind, ‘What will I be leaving my son with? How will he cope as an only child?’
Some of the pain is for another day. Today has enough. Today I pray three things:
1) What do I need to know today to make today’s decisions?
2) What do I need to do today to fulfill today’s obligations?
3) Who do I need to be today to be God’s woman in the midst?
I told Jonathan last night that I actually hoped dad would pass away – to put him and all of us out of further misery – but I also told him that was not our call to make – that God in his infinite wisdom might call us to the deeper walk – for some purpose we are not yet aware – dad may linger in this horrible state and that if he did, even though we can’t see it, God will use it for good. He is trustworthy.
