A funeral, a party, calamity, and a breather

 

flowers for the urn

It took a bit to work out when to have the service for John, but the day finally came and a modest amount of family and new friends gathered for a service at St. Anthony's in Renton.  Then, virtually everyone came back to our house for a gathering.

Thankfully, the air cleared up a bit and we were able to use the deck as well as the main floor for the event.  We served a casual lunch and thankfully didn't have too much left over. 

It was lovely having a house full of people, visiting with the extended family was very nice and I thought Susie did great.  

Everyone stayed a few hours, and we had our house back around 3, a quick clean up and Jason and I melted into the couch around 4:30.  Sweet Lucy seemed eager to spend time with us and was very chatty until it was bed time. Jason might have been in the mood for some quiet time, but we know that this kid won't always want to hang out, so we listened to stories, watched them practice their clarinet, and helped with homework.  

All in all, it really worked out well and felt like a fitting goodbye to John.  It was dignified, and still fun. The inurnment for the urn hasn't been scheduled, so he's still with us.  

The family sent an incredible flower arrangement for the church, so he's hanging out in our main room.  

CALAMITY

Jas & I took Wednesday off to prepare for the service and after party.  The required trip to Costco was on the agenda, as well as prepping the house for the well-timed housekeepers.  He and I went to breakfast while the housekeepers were in the house, then came back to move the tables around, set up the deck and clear space for the incoming sandwiches and party food for the next day.

I was at the sink washing my hands or something and the entire nozzle of the sprayer broke off in my hand which caused a HUGE mess. Water was everywhere, the cupboards, my face, shirt, and the floor.  Ok, add a faucet to the Costco list.  Thankfully, replacing the faucet didn't take too long but it certainly wasn't on the list of things Jason wanted to do before the funeral for his dad.

  

because we needed a project

During the post funeral party there was some chaos going on.   It seems that when you have a house full of people, everything else happens at the same time.  Thursday is trash pickup day, but we were thankful that it was just compost and that was taken care of before we left for the service, but during the party not only did the lawn guys come but the monthly visit from the pest control guy as well.  

Additionally, we learned a very unfortunate lesson.   Small, diapered kids with lots of energy will slide down the stairs on their bum regardless of the state of a diaper.   A "full" diaper cannot withstand the bum slide and pooh will squish up and out the top of said diaper and leave a trail of residue or "resipooh."   Cousin Anton showed his deep family connection and not only jumped into action to clean the stairs, but did so in a way that made the Stanley Steamer people look like hacks.   Our stairs haven't been this clean in quite a while. 

something fun

Lastly, here's Lucy's Halloween costume.  Isn't it fantastic?  

The whole story

 After the post about writing the obituary, I suppose it's only right to tell how we got here.

A few posts back I talked about John's cancer and the immunotherapy and how we were hopeful.  That was September 30th - a Friday.

That was a rough day at the hospital, John was cranky for obvious reasons and who do you take things out on when you're miserable?  Your favorite person in the world, so it was a rough day for Susie as well.   

We made arrangements for Lucy to spend the day with friends, so that I could go with Jason to the hospital Saturday, and that Susie could take a day off.  She was able to decompress a bit, have lunch with comfort people and reset her system.

The CCU wouldn't let me into see John, but I was nearby and Jason could come out into the waiting area to talk and take a break.   One of the nurses said that the plan was to move John back to the regular hospital floor that day.  While that would have been nice because I could have then gone in to be with him and Jason, it wasn't realistic either.    John was sitting in the chair, which is therapeutic in that it helps strengthen your core muscles after being in a bed for two weeks.  However, he was really groggy, aggravated and disoriented.  He hadn't been sleeping and the meds given to help in that area sent him all over the map.    I'm reminded of the time we gave Lucy Benadryl and instead of knocking her out like it does to regular humans it wound her up and not only was sleep impossible, but she was practically hyper.  I think the sleep meds were doing that to John.

Jason had a consult with the doctor, who agreed that John shouldn't be moved just yet.  I don't think John was alert enough to have any meaningful conversations with Jason.

Sunday was a better day, but not great either.  He was sleepy all day and the nursing staff had him propped up to avoid bed sores.  Jason and Susie were home in time for a regular dinner.  

Monday morning as Lucy was headed out the door to school Jason saw he had a voicemail from the hospital.  At 3:45 am or so, John's breathing became too shallow, and the hospital intubated him.   

Originally, John entered the hospital with a DNR, but when they started the last round of therapy to try to reverse the effects of the Mycenae gravis the doctor said it might make him weaker before it made him better and because his heart rate had been so low previously that they might need a temporary pacemaker or to intubate.   John agreed to modify the DNR to allow the infusion to work.  

Jason and I had a cry, and then a talk about what John would want.  We discussed the questions to ask the doctor - like, how long before we can know if the infusion was working and he could be taken off the vent, or when would a breathing test be done. We assumed three days.  We know he wouldn't want to be on life support for long if it was just for the purpose of sticking around but in that state.

We also researched the recovery from Mycenae gravis and at this point it was clear that if John recovered enough to leave the hospital that he would have 12-18 months of therapy to be able to hopefully walk with a walker but would need help getting out of bed and to the toilet for months and months - if not forever.

Susie arrived at our house quickly and the three of us had a tearful talk before they headed to the hospital.  When they left I truly believed we would be having the next conversation in three days, after a breathing test.

I sent the daily message to the family, and then had a couple of tearful phone calls with the cousins.  

Jas and Susie had a heart-to-heart talk after talking with the doctor in the morning and they decided to remove the tube.  Jason called and told me to come down, he wanted me there and now we had permission to have as many people in the room as we wanted.  This is the sign that even the hospital staff knew it was time to let go.

I arrived at the hospital at 4pm and was there to meet the oncologist and listen to her apology (basically).  She talked through how unusual John's case was, and how at every step nothing worked as expected.  None of this was her fault obviously, but as she talked I half expected her to suggest another route to help John recover.   The CCU doctor returned as well, and we asked what the next steps would be.    The two doctors needed to write orders for meds to make John comfortable and then they would remove the intubation equipment when we were ready.  

By this time Marty & Lynne had arrived and we all had a moment to say what we needed to say.  

We stepped out of the room while they removed the equipment and came back in and sat with John - talking to him, laying hands on him and I'm sure I wasn't the only one saying prayers for him.   The nurse came in to check on us and noticed that John was struggling to breathe, so he ever so kindly put his hand on John's shoulder and told him that he was going to give him something to help him relax.

Well, after the nurse did that and left, John's breathing wasn't as labored and then just gently stopped.  There was no death rattle, or dramatic music or anything, he was just not there anymore, and after a few minutes I asked Jason if I should go get the doctor.  Susie asked why, and Marty told her that John was gone.  She seemed confused, and said "when?", Marty said "it just happened".  

The nurse came back to check John and again, put his hand on John's shoulder and said - just to him, "I'm going to listen to your heart now."  Later, when he removed John's wedding ring he spoke to John to let him know what he was doing.   Maybe it was a show for us, but I really don't think so.  

We then worked out the details of what to do next, said goodbye one more time and headed home.  We were back at the house by 6:30pm.  

Jason was the one who told Lucy and we all had a big cry.  

The rest of last week was one "must do" activity after another.  We don't have a funeral date yet because we are waiting on the Priest's availability.  There are more things to do this week, but we're back in the office - sort of I'm here, but blogging.

So, that the story.  I'm sure I missed some things, and I know I left out the details of what was said to John in his final moments.   Those things were for him.

Jason and Susie are doing ok but I think we're all in a bit of shock.   The timeline between the 16th of September and now is just mind boggling.  I overheard a snippet of a phone conversation at the grocery store yesterday and it went like this "well, you know it takes three days for your mind to even process that someone has died."  Sounds about right to me. 

The sum of a man

I wrote an obituary today.  It was all business, but I injected a couple of paragraphs from my heart.  I expected my lovely mother-in-law to reject them, but they invoked emotion and she liked it.  

It is very hard for a pedestrian writer to evoke emotion and express the true depth of what someone means to you.

My father-in-law was known and loved by multitudes of people that experienced his spirit, loyalty and experience before I met him.  My time with him was limited to the last fifteen years of his life.   

I have enjoyed his stories, the stories of my Jason as a boy, John’s bride and the stories of the many nieces and nephews and their children.  He was of all things a historian, passing information from previous generations down through entertaining tales.  

The obituary covers the milestones of his life, school, finding is forever life partner, his son, the beloved neighbors in his chosen neighborhood and links to the lives he touched.  It doesn’t dig into the small moments that have meant so much to those of us along the way.

He was a faithful member of his church and honored the teachings.  He valued the lessons of family and tradition.  They guided his decisions.   However, when the church suggested the person a nephew had chosen as his wife wasn’t going to result in a “true” marriage because she wasn’t a member of the same church, my father-in-law and mother-in-law made every effort to attend the wedding and celebrate the now 45+ year union.  That simple act, one that the groom’s own parents didn’t do, still moves the groom and his bride to tears.

Many years later when I arrived on the scene, I was (am) a liberal, mildly Lutheran gal who fell deeply in love with his son.  John comforted me when my feelings were hurt that one of his beloved family members took a stand to avoid attending our wedding.  He told me that their focus on church was their problem, and that I was welcome in his family.   I know he cared deeply about the traditions of his church, but he could see that I was his son’s family and our partnership in life was more important than traditions.  

These are two small examples of the man I knew.  He wasn’t perfect, after a few ‘nips’ of scotch the stories tended to ramble in circles, but he was determined to see the good in anyone he was related to.  I never once heard him utter anything negative about anyone - except politicians. But, we’ve all been there. 

In an obituary of someone who lived 83 years, the moments that imbedded him into my heart can’t be the focus, but I will remember and love him with the same honor as my own dad.   As I support his bride and son through this journey of learning to live in a world where they can’t just call dad, I will follow behind with a similar broken heart.