To all of you who are expressing your condolences either here or on Facebook in the aftermath of our father's passing, thank you. It is immensely comforting to know that you are out there, reading and caring.
When I came home from the hospital, picked up the laptop, and sat in the dark writing the post made this morning, I was writing for personal therapy. It didn't occur to me that so many of you would read it so quickly. It was barely 8 a.m. in Hawaii when I started the round of calls to mainland family and friends. Without exception, everyone I called had read either my post or my brother's this day, or been contacted by a family member who read it. It makes the world a far more friendly place, and leaves me feeling not quite so alone and adrift.
My mother was more shaken by the news of my dad's death than I had expected. We just never know until an event happens how we -- or another -- will respond. It's tricky not to let those expectations get in the way of appropriate response. To my way of thinking, my mother needs to shed some tears. She is not there yet. She may never be there. Her tears may have been shed years ago.
Whatever the case, Mother is busy making lists, reading the Yellow Pages, still emptying closets, and directing the rest of us in the choices we should be making.
"No." This is used especially when a subject is distasteful to her.
To me, after listening to a conversation between my brother and myself about the canoe paddles in my father's bedroom: "I want the canoe paddle with his grandfather's name on it to go to Kimo, not to some museum."
To my brother the photographer: "Use an obituary picture that looks like he looked recently, like people will remember him. Don't use one from when he was young."
and over our Chinese take-out dinner this evening, "I hope Ian picks out a good picture for the obituary."
Ian, are you getting her message? :-)
Give thanks for the extraordinarily long and influential life of our father, John Montgomery Lind. Give thanks that he was finally able to let go. Don't forget to pray ....
Saturday, October 23, 2010
Another Battle Over, Another Warrior Gone
He didn't make it to December 6.
He clung tenaciously to life, difficult though this last month has been.
Good-bye, Daddy. Be at peace.
Sunday, October 10, 2010
Mending Relationships
When Julie, the social worker from Hospice, visited my mom last week, she left a paper titled "Five Things".
It is one of the few papers she has kept, not given to me to file away in the Hospice File.
I went looking this morning on the Internet to learn more about The Five Things. They come from a book by Dr. Ira Byock, Dying Well: Peace and Possibilities at the End of Life and are described more fully in another book, The Four Things that Matter Most. They are:
I have put aside all hurt or resentment I might have had against you. For all those hurts, large or small, I forgive you.
For those things I have done in my life which have hurt or harmed you, please forgive me.
Thank you for all the moments of light and friendship you have brought into my life. Thank you for being my friend. Thank you for being you.
I love you. Unconditionally.
Good-bye.
They fit beautifully into the theme of the study currently ongoing in our church based on Dr. Timothy Keller's book The Prodigal God. Keller talks about unconditional love, families vs. community, and the restorative power of forgiveness, building his message from the (mis-named, he says) Parable of the Prodigal Son. It, too, is worth exploration.
Give thanks for those who love unconditionally. Especially those who love you unconditionally.
Don't forget to pray.
It is one of the few papers she has kept, not given to me to file away in the Hospice File.
I went looking this morning on the Internet to learn more about The Five Things. They come from a book by Dr. Ira Byock, Dying Well: Peace and Possibilities at the End of Life and are described more fully in another book, The Four Things that Matter Most. They are:
I Forgive You
Forgive Me
Thank You
I Love You
Good-bye
I have put aside all hurt or resentment I might have had against you. For all those hurts, large or small, I forgive you.
For those things I have done in my life which have hurt or harmed you, please forgive me.
Thank you for all the moments of light and friendship you have brought into my life. Thank you for being my friend. Thank you for being you.
I love you. Unconditionally.
Good-bye.
They fit beautifully into the theme of the study currently ongoing in our church based on Dr. Timothy Keller's book The Prodigal God. Keller talks about unconditional love, families vs. community, and the restorative power of forgiveness, building his message from the (mis-named, he says) Parable of the Prodigal Son. It, too, is worth exploration.
Give thanks for those who love unconditionally. Especially those who love you unconditionally.
Don't forget to pray.
Wednesday, October 6, 2010
Another Milestone
The milestone is that I am out of the laundry business. That is a good thing. I hate having to do laundry on deadline when working around the whims of the weather.
The reason is not particularly good. My dad is no longer able to help dress himself. He is permanently in a hospital gown. I don't have to launder hospital gowns.
My mother surprised me. I don't want her to ever say that we -- my brother and I -- prevented her from doing something she wanted to do, either from ignorance or neglect. So periodically I offer her the opportunity to visit my dad. I know better than to expect that she will accept. This afternoon she asked when I will go again to see him. She has a big shopping trip planned for tomorrow morning, so my late afternoon meeting with the Hospice RN is less than convenient.
"When are you going after than?" she asked.
I suggested that Friday morning would be good. It just might happen.
Seeing her again, her giving him permission to move on, just might be what he needs to take that next step.
Fearless hearts. Peaceful minds. Give thanks. Hug someone. Let someone know you care. Don't forget to pray.....
The reason is not particularly good. My dad is no longer able to help dress himself. He is permanently in a hospital gown. I don't have to launder hospital gowns.
My mother surprised me. I don't want her to ever say that we -- my brother and I -- prevented her from doing something she wanted to do, either from ignorance or neglect. So periodically I offer her the opportunity to visit my dad. I know better than to expect that she will accept. This afternoon she asked when I will go again to see him. She has a big shopping trip planned for tomorrow morning, so my late afternoon meeting with the Hospice RN is less than convenient.
"When are you going after than?" she asked.
I suggested that Friday morning would be good. It just might happen.
Seeing her again, her giving him permission to move on, just might be what he needs to take that next step.
Fearless hearts. Peaceful minds. Give thanks. Hug someone. Let someone know you care. Don't forget to pray.....
Letting Go
You need to read my brother's post at ilind.net to understand my mood this morning. It's titled, "Still too Strong for his Own Good".
Our dad is aware of what is happening in his body. On the last two or three times I've seen him, he's said "I'm in bad shape." He told me before the medical diagnosis was made that he had pneumonia. He recognizes that coughing blood is not a good thing. He knows what he can no longer do, no longer enjoy. He knows there is no possibility he will enjoy those things again in this lifetime. But he will not let go.
I think he is afraid. It's a big unknown on the other side of that door. Will he walk out into empty space? Will he simply disappear from the universe? Will he, as he was promised in those church-going years of his youth, step into eternal glory? Or eternal damnation? Will he rejoin his parents and brothers who have gone before him?
Will he continue to live in the memories of those who knew him, who care about him? Will he be remembered as a good guy, or a bad guy? Will he fade out of memory and cease to exist, even there?
When my maternal grandmother was dying more than 50 years ago, her priest was a relatively young man who chose to follow his father's footsteps into the ministry. He had a gift for working with the elderly. My mother asked him one day why he, a vibrant young man, chose to work with 'old people'.
"When you are young," he said, "you need the church to give you something to live for. When you are old, you need something to die for."
I continue to wish for my father a fearless mind and a peaceful heart. Pray that he, and all those in a similar place, will find something to die for.
Our dad is aware of what is happening in his body. On the last two or three times I've seen him, he's said "I'm in bad shape." He told me before the medical diagnosis was made that he had pneumonia. He recognizes that coughing blood is not a good thing. He knows what he can no longer do, no longer enjoy. He knows there is no possibility he will enjoy those things again in this lifetime. But he will not let go.
I think he is afraid. It's a big unknown on the other side of that door. Will he walk out into empty space? Will he simply disappear from the universe? Will he, as he was promised in those church-going years of his youth, step into eternal glory? Or eternal damnation? Will he rejoin his parents and brothers who have gone before him?
Will he continue to live in the memories of those who knew him, who care about him? Will he be remembered as a good guy, or a bad guy? Will he fade out of memory and cease to exist, even there?
When my maternal grandmother was dying more than 50 years ago, her priest was a relatively young man who chose to follow his father's footsteps into the ministry. He had a gift for working with the elderly. My mother asked him one day why he, a vibrant young man, chose to work with 'old people'.
"When you are young," he said, "you need the church to give you something to live for. When you are old, you need something to die for."
I continue to wish for my father a fearless mind and a peaceful heart. Pray that he, and all those in a similar place, will find something to die for.
Monday, October 4, 2010
What a Difference a Walker Makes!
We put the new walker to the ultimate test on Saturday morning. Can it do a craft fair? Short answer: YES!
I took my mom to our annual Daughters of Hawaii fair, an indoor-outdoor event featuring food, music, and a good selection of mostly upscale artisans and craftspersons. She loved it. And could never have done it without the walker.
To be fair, it would not be a good thing to turn her loose totally unsupervised. There are little bumps like thresholds and fat extension cords and low curbs where it is nice to have someone unobtrusively pick up the front end of the walker to help it over the bump. Down slopes need control, and up slopes need a little extra pull power. Grass is not ideal. Paved surfaces are great. She would go,go,go -- then sit down to shop at a particular stall. She could go where ever she wanted, meet people, enjoy being out in the world.
She shopped in "Dale's Attic", the rummage component of our fair. She bought a bottle of marmalade, a lemon and a lime -- which look identical. She tried on hats, looked at haku lei, exclaimed over the wiliwili lei made from a brilliant orange-red seed that you don't see much any more. Maybe because an immigrant bug has killed off a large percentage of the population of wiliwili trees. She looked at plants, and when I bought my Treasure of the Year (a gold and silver bracelet by Donna Cockett of Kauai, who happens to be married to a cousin), she bought one, too. Different design, same maker. I think she bought it because she liked the bracelet. But she also bought it because the maker is 'ohana.
'
By 11:30, she was tired and ready to go home. But she never would have gotten past Dale's Attic without that walker!
Give thanks for the openness that allows us to swallow our pride and invest in the tools and aids we need to live a full life.
Don't forget to pray!
I took my mom to our annual Daughters of Hawaii fair, an indoor-outdoor event featuring food, music, and a good selection of mostly upscale artisans and craftspersons. She loved it. And could never have done it without the walker.
To be fair, it would not be a good thing to turn her loose totally unsupervised. There are little bumps like thresholds and fat extension cords and low curbs where it is nice to have someone unobtrusively pick up the front end of the walker to help it over the bump. Down slopes need control, and up slopes need a little extra pull power. Grass is not ideal. Paved surfaces are great. She would go,go,go -- then sit down to shop at a particular stall. She could go where ever she wanted, meet people, enjoy being out in the world.
She shopped in "Dale's Attic", the rummage component of our fair. She bought a bottle of marmalade, a lemon and a lime -- which look identical. She tried on hats, looked at haku lei, exclaimed over the wiliwili lei made from a brilliant orange-red seed that you don't see much any more. Maybe because an immigrant bug has killed off a large percentage of the population of wiliwili trees. She looked at plants, and when I bought my Treasure of the Year (a gold and silver bracelet by Donna Cockett of Kauai, who happens to be married to a cousin), she bought one, too. Different design, same maker. I think she bought it because she liked the bracelet. But she also bought it because the maker is 'ohana.
'
By 11:30, she was tired and ready to go home. But she never would have gotten past Dale's Attic without that walker!
Give thanks for the openness that allows us to swallow our pride and invest in the tools and aids we need to live a full life.
Don't forget to pray!
Tuesday, September 28, 2010
The Deed is Done
It is official. My father is officially a Hospice patient. His diagnosis is "adullt failure to thrive". He has lost 4.5 lbs, more or less, in the last 30 days. Not good. He is refusing most meals, except for his 3 bottles of Ensure daily, and some fruit. He seldom gets out of bed, although he can still walk with his walker. We are assured that he is getting plenty of fluid, although they are not measuring fluid in/fluid out.
There are some real positives about Hospice care. He gets another layer of nursing care, with a Hospice Nurse visiting at least twice weekly.
I asked what that additional layer would add to his care. The answer? "Another pair of eyes, eyes looking just at on patient, eyes looking specifically for his comfort, for small changes in condition or attitude, eyes trained to evaluate patients at this stage of life." Oh, another pair of eyes looking from the same view that we do as a family, looking for signs that might be missed by a CNA who is dealing with 8-12 patients, each one with their own very important needs. Eyes that are not tied by regulatory requirements to desks, patient charts, or medicine carts.
From my own perspective, it means dealing with RNs whose native language is English. Don't get me wrong here. My dad has been getting very good nursing care. But the primary language of most who work at Oahu Care Facility is Filipino, Korean or Vietnamese. There are communication gaps. I wrote about some of them the other day. In the US, men wear suspenders to hold up their pants. In the UK, suspenders hold up hosery. Braces hold up pants. If I asked about braces from a UK perspective, the American thinks about teeth straightening. When your first problem is translation, the more subtle differences get lost. You don't always understand what the other speaker is asking or telling you.
It means having a nurse on call 24/7. I've used that wonderful service in another lifetime -- another place, another patient. I am incredibly thankful that there was someone to call whenever I needed them.
From the perspective of the checkbook, Hospice Care is well covered by my parents' insurance. Ordinary long term care is not. So we have suddenly dropped out of full private pay status into a much more budget friendly insurance patient.
St. Francis Hospital, manager of this Hospice program, is a Catholic hospital. They believe that spiritual and emotional health is important to physical health. They offer both social workers and a chaplaincy program. I've asked that a chaplain visit my dad -- not as a Catholic priest, but as a friend who comes to talk and visit, and who offers to pray with or for my dad at the end of the visit. He is not a church go-er, has not been for many years. But he did regularly watch Dr. Robert Schuller (TV's Hour of Power), and he did grow up as part of an active church family. It's worth at least one visit.
Give thanks for Hospice care in local communities where ever they may be. Give thanks for those devoted folk who dedicate their lives and service to those whose lives are drawing to and end.
Don't forget to pray.
There are some real positives about Hospice care. He gets another layer of nursing care, with a Hospice Nurse visiting at least twice weekly.
I asked what that additional layer would add to his care. The answer? "Another pair of eyes, eyes looking just at on patient, eyes looking specifically for his comfort, for small changes in condition or attitude, eyes trained to evaluate patients at this stage of life." Oh, another pair of eyes looking from the same view that we do as a family, looking for signs that might be missed by a CNA who is dealing with 8-12 patients, each one with their own very important needs. Eyes that are not tied by regulatory requirements to desks, patient charts, or medicine carts.
From my own perspective, it means dealing with RNs whose native language is English. Don't get me wrong here. My dad has been getting very good nursing care. But the primary language of most who work at Oahu Care Facility is Filipino, Korean or Vietnamese. There are communication gaps. I wrote about some of them the other day. In the US, men wear suspenders to hold up their pants. In the UK, suspenders hold up hosery. Braces hold up pants. If I asked about braces from a UK perspective, the American thinks about teeth straightening. When your first problem is translation, the more subtle differences get lost. You don't always understand what the other speaker is asking or telling you.
It means having a nurse on call 24/7. I've used that wonderful service in another lifetime -- another place, another patient. I am incredibly thankful that there was someone to call whenever I needed them.
From the perspective of the checkbook, Hospice Care is well covered by my parents' insurance. Ordinary long term care is not. So we have suddenly dropped out of full private pay status into a much more budget friendly insurance patient.
St. Francis Hospital, manager of this Hospice program, is a Catholic hospital. They believe that spiritual and emotional health is important to physical health. They offer both social workers and a chaplaincy program. I've asked that a chaplain visit my dad -- not as a Catholic priest, but as a friend who comes to talk and visit, and who offers to pray with or for my dad at the end of the visit. He is not a church go-er, has not been for many years. But he did regularly watch Dr. Robert Schuller (TV's Hour of Power), and he did grow up as part of an active church family. It's worth at least one visit.
Give thanks for Hospice care in local communities where ever they may be. Give thanks for those devoted folk who dedicate their lives and service to those whose lives are drawing to and end.
Don't forget to pray.
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