Seismic Twitch

Dad’s memorial mass was today at 11 am. It was, as masses go, a good one. I carried the cremains to the front of the church at the beginning of services. My niece, Dad’s oldest grandchild, did one of the readings. My cousin, Julie, did the other reading. Someone I don’t know, my older brother’s boss, did the intercessions. Boy was greatly distressed several times. Bran and I comforted him as best we could.

There was the usual tea after the services where I got to meet people I’d not seen in a long time (cousins I’d not seen since Mom’s funeral – I don’t remember seeing them there but they say they were and I believe them), and others I don’t remember from Adam. Of course, there were those who I’d never met before as they became part of Dad’s life after Mom died.

Other than the funeral home arrangement, there were 4 floral arrangements from family and friends. Bran too photos of them and a photo will be sent to each person along with the thank you cards.

The house was cleaned up yesterday. I vacuumed. I wish the machine was better. The suction didn’t really exist so I ended up having to go over areas I could feel stuff on, but the machine didn’t pick up the first four or five times I passed over it. I also had to pick up bits and pieces of paper (we took outdated books apart for recycling) that were in the carpet. This increase in work load wore out my back. Despite that I did get the dusting done (I don’t think the house had been dusted since before Dad went into hospital). I also cleared off the coffee and end tables of the stuff they had on them, washed up the ceramics (Mom collected Blue Mountain stuff) and put them back out.

My brother, sister and niece worked on getting the food together for the family coming by after the tea and did the other necessary cleaning. Boy and Bran did the powder room off the master bedroom. This was used as a back-up bathroom.

I’m quite looking forward to getting back home. I’m thoroughly peopled out (though my niece, Bran and Boy don’t count in that). My sister, her husband and my brother all smoke, so both my and Boy’s allergies are playing up. That doesn’t even get into the smell.

I may not like my brother-in-law much, but he has done a lot of work in a short period of time to do some of the cosmetic stuff that needs to be done to the house. He got the bathtub area done up so it doesn’t leak, he fixed the powder room toilet so it fills properly, replaced the kitchen faucet and did spot painting that needed to be done on the exterior trim (the rest of the exterior is brick and stucco). He also replaced the locks and some of the worn out light switches. All that since Friday. He’s a person who can’t just sit, so it worked out for him.

Tomorrow my niece goes back to her husband and daughter and we head back to ‘Toon Town. I have a few things that I chose to take back. One is a needle point that Mom did. It used to hang over the living room couch. I’m also taking Mom and Dad’s wedding photo, a small knick-knack stand, Mom’s family ring and a few other small bits and bobs. Boy has inherited a sweater, afghan and letter opener that was made from one of the original rail spikes used on the trans-Canada railway (at least I think that’s what it is). We’ll also be going home with a pile of food. There is a lot left over from the tea and then there was the food that was prepared here.

This isn’t home any more. It hasn’t been for a very long time. I realized it when I was laying on the back lawn with my niece and we were talking. With Dad’s death, the spirit that made this place home departed. It’s time to become someone else’s home. What we kids don’t choose to take will be sold or donated. The house will be sold and the estate distributed according to Dad’s will. The estate will probably go into probate since there is property involved. I don’t know how long that will take, but at the end of it I hope to be able to put a down payment on a house of our own.

Needless to say, going through Dad’s bedroom was like opening a time capsule. Dad moved a lot of his stuff into Mom’s old dresser, but the memorabilia she collected was still there. There were old newspaper articles about awards my siblings won, letters and cards from friends and relatives – some long dead. We found the book that Dad’s mom (Granny) used to keep track of the money that her sons sent her each month to help support her. This was before the days of government pensions for widows. We also found a couple of post cards she had written to Dad in French. Our niece translated them (the handwriting was somewhat unclear). They were both mundane and very special. My sister found a picture of Granny’s brother, Xenon. I’d never seen it before.

Bran volunteered to be family archivist. He’ll scan all the photos in the albums Dad made over the years and then he’ll can the slides. This project will consist of several years of work on his part. But for him it’s a labour of love. It also means that there will be an archive of photos available to all of us instead of only one person getting all the photos, or breaking up the collection.

It’s been a stressful time for all of us. My sister’s dog, Bailey, helped break the atmosphere. Besides grief, there’s also anger and dislike. My sister has been walking a fine line between all of us and had done it with relative grace, though she does tend to micromanage some. That’s ok. She’s executor of the estate and wants to do a good job. Dad trusted her and she wants to live up to that trust.

That’s about it. I’m going to go hunt down a sandwich (there are a gabillion of them in the fridge).

The decision of the family is unanimous. No heroic measures are going to be used to resuscitate Dad. We are also not going to have them do much in the way of other measures, including dialysis. There’s not much point to it really. The blood tests aren’t all back yet. They’re trying to find out if he has an infection that is caused his kidneys to shut down.

Dad does have basic responses, but none of them bode well. When the nurses attend to him, take his pulse/blood pressure or wash him, he fights it.This doesn’t mean that he is aware of what he’s doing. He can’t swallow and therefore hasn’t taken any meds since he was found unconscious on Friday afternoon/evening. He doesn’t respond to commands of any sort and doesn’t respond to my brother’s voice.

We’re going to let nature take its course. The nurses will keep him comfortable, that’s all.

So now we wait for the inevitable.

To help me Bran has taken me on two car rides to help settle me down. He did that when my dog died in 1985. He would’ve done it if we had a car when my Mom died in 1993. He did that tonight. We went and got snacks for all of us. Did you know that Chapman’s Ice Cream company makes a no-sugar added, lactose free ice cream? They do. Only 14 grams of carbs per 1/2 C serving. That’s better than regular ice cream.

We went through the real estate listings for town as well. It was something to occupy my mind with and do a little bit of dreaming. It was a nice distraction. While we did that Golden Eye played on the DVD player. Laundry tomorrow so that we have clean clothes to to down to see Dad on Monday with. I’ll be sorting through the stuff collected over the years of Mom and Dad’s lives together (including “treasures” given to them by us kids). I don’t know what to do with things like their letters to each other from before they were married, Mom’s nursing uniform (100% cotton that had to be ironed and starched), Mom’s wedding dress and Dad’s wedding suit, and a plethora of other bits and pieces of so much living.

Thank you all, those who commented and those who are just thinking of me and my family. Your support means more than I could possibly say.

I got a call from my sister tonight. Apparently when the nurses went in to check on Dad earlier today he was non-responsive. They did some tests and found that he is in renal failure. They called my sister to find out how heroic we wanted them to be if Dad worsens.

She didn’t want to make that decision on her own. So she called my two brothers. They weren’t home so she left a message. Then she called me.

I told her that I didn’t think that Dad would want to be the way he is, at least not the Dad I knew before all this. The Dad I knew was a vital, energetic, and intelligent man with a very wry sense of humour. I love Dad a lot, but the person I saw was a mere shell of the man he used to be. He was hesitant, confused and not really there.

I told my sister that they shouldn’t resuscitate him if the need arises. I think that palliative care is all that’s needed now. We just need to let him go.

I’ll be going up on Monday regardless of what happens over the weekend. I could go up tomorrow, but what is the point? I don’t want to be the one to comfort my brother. There’s no business that I can take care of on the weekend even if he does die.

So that’s how things are now.

Well, I’ve done some processing of my visit to see Dad this past weekend. I don’t like processing. It implies feelings and I don’t do them very well.

What it all boils down to is that Dad’s mental condition is such that he’s not going to go home again. His needs far outstrip my brother’s capability of caring for him. Dad needs 24/7 care. My brother would have to have someone come in and, in essence, babysit Dad just so that grocery shopping and the like could be done.

I think the most painful thing for me was to see Dad, in his moments of clarity (and there were few of them) didn’t realize the state he was in. It’s better for him, I know. I mean, it would break him to know the state he’s in. But it brought home to me just how bad he is if even in times of relative clarity, he can’t recognize things. The weirdest thing was he remembered Bran’s name. I’m not sure he remembered it more than a hand full of times since we’ve been married in 1986.

Dad’s short term memory is shot. If you leave the room and come back he’ll greet you like he’s not seen you for an age. His cognitive abilities are damaged. He can’t keep track of conversations. He regresses in his memory, thinking that the entire family is at home or remembering my sister or oldest brother as living in Saskatoon.

Physically he’s very feeble. This man, who used to walk upwards of 10 miles a day doing errands can’t walk 10 feet without losing balance. His strides are about 1 foot.

He’s totally preoccupied with his watch and time. When he first arrived at the hospital the nurses took it from him (as they do with all jewelry in ER) and it distressed him enough that they gave it back to him. He told them that he was a navigator in the war and precise time was very important to him.

The practicalities are taken care of thanks to him creating a power of attorney for my sister and I. He thought that was what was needed in case of his death. It’s a good thing he had it drawn up because now we don’t have to go to the work of a competency hearing and such. The down side is that neither my sister nor I live in Dad’s city. We’ll be doing things as a team. That’s how the power of attorney works. Anything that needs to be signed needs both our signatures.

Interestingly, a power of attorney ends at death, so it would have done no good then. The business of the decedent is handed over to the executors (again my sister and myself) to dissolve, pay taxes and distribute the estate. However, it’s a damn good thing it was made up to take care of things now.

So that’s how things are right now. My sister is mailing up some paperwork for me to take care of when I get back from Edmonton at the end of the week.

Speaking of Edmonton…I have to be at the office at 6:30 am. (0630 – for those on the 24 hour clock). I’ve got most of my stuff gathered together but not packed up. I’ll be doing my showering in the evening before we go anywhere (if we do) tomorrow evening and Thursday) I imagine the other 2 women will want to shower in the morning. This saves some congestion at the bathroom.

That’s about it.

Ta-Ra

and we got a flat tire.

I need a bit of time to process yesterday’s trip to see Dad.

In the nonce, enjoy the new PR site (promos, give-aways and ratings) created by Smelly Anne It’s new so there’s not a lot there yet, but I’m sure there’s going to be a lot there to take advantage of given some time. It’s called Fishing and Wishing. Just click on the image on the right and you’ll be taken there right away.

Today was the funeral of my friend’s husband. It was a lovely service. I was watching his kids while the service was ongoing. One is two years old. She won’t remember more than a few vague things about her dad. The other is six. He’ll remember more but still, the memories won’t be his own. They’ll be augmented by what he hears other people say about his dad.

It was rather ironic that the two paganish people there are placed in the front row of one of the sections of the church. I asked Bran to do up one more button on his shirt as his pentacle tattoo might have been showing. Of course I cried through nearly the whole service. Well, not so much cried as leaked a lot. And blew my nose a fair number of times. I didn’t know the man, but I know his wife and I know they loved each other a lot. I cried for her and the kids and some for my own fear of Bran dying.

They totally ruined Amazing Grace by sticking new lyrics in there. It was a perfectly beautiful song before. Why go and add that religious stuff in? It was a song about redemption and was made sappy. Sad. I did get to hear The Old Rugged Cross sung in real life. It’s not a common hymn sung in Catholic churches.

In stark contrast the the casket containing the body of my friend’s husband were the two wee infants near the back of the church. Neither of them were more than a couple of weeks old. Life does go on in its cycles.

Despite his dying so young (he was 35) he probably knew he wouldn’t live to an old age because of his heart defect. Maybe that’s part of why my friend appears to be coping so well right now. Or perhaps she’s just putting one foot in front of the other, coping from minute to minute.

It got Bran and I thinking about our final arrangements. Of course, he’s been banned from dying first. I laid down that law ages ago. Anyway, the most significant thing is that we don’t have to try and find a guardian for Boy. That’s an enormous relief considering our religious/spiritual (or lack thereof) leanings. What we have to figure out is what kind of service we want, if any. Then we have to figure out the practicalities of being poor and having to pay for a very expensive service. Even simple funerals cost and arm and a leg. When Bran’s mom died in 2001 (Jan. 1) the funeral cost over $5000. That was for a cremation, flowers, ride to the funeral, their help with getting government notifications done (like to Canada Pension and such) and their organizational skills. Oh, and a small urn with some of her ashes in for Boy. The rest of the ashes are in a sealed plastic container to be distributed at the old homestead sometime in the future.

I was thinking of one of the cardboard caskets for me since I’m going to be cremated. Or none at all. Either way, I want to be scattered amongst rose bushes since I love the flowers but being allergic to them that would be the only time I could be around them and not get a headache.

I don’t know what music I’d like, maybe some Cat Stevens, Etheridge…I don’t know. I guess I’ll have to give that thought.

Funerals do that. Make us think.

After the funeral I was a little late for work. Traffic was stupid. There are road repairs galore (not that that was really influential as Bran knew where that was happening) and then we encountered a train. I still had to get home and change for work and get my stuff packed up. I managed that and wasn’t late per se – just later than I like to be.

Work was very normal. Busy, but normal. I got the weekly reports completed but wasn’t able to have much down time until after 10 pm. That was after a lot of the curfews were up and people were in for the night. Before that it was a stream of people going out and coming back and going out and coming back. Sometimes I’d just get sat down to type and someone else would want back in. It was like dealing with a large number of indecisive cats.

I guess I should consider going to bed. I wanted to be up a while longer as I have the living room windows all open to let in the cooler night air. It’s been wicked hot here (32C) the past couple of days and having the windows open in the coolness is definitely a good thing. Interesting. Environment Canada says that we’re getting some light rain. I don’t smell rain.

Ra-Ra

When I logged in to start this entry I saw that I had 6 spam comments caught by Askimet. One caught my eye because of the site link entered: i-have-blood-in-my-stool dot com. Doesn’t that just make you want to zip your fingers to your mouse and click on it? And you know that because of that phrase in this entry, I’m going to get some very disappointed people coming to my blog to read.

Not a lot has been happening since my last post. The funeral is tomorrow (Tuesday – I’ve not gone to bed yet so I’m not done with Monday yet) afternoon. Everyone from work is going. The residents appear to be going to get a card and all sign it for her. They were unsure because of the boundary thing, but it’s just a card and I’m sure my co-worker would appreciate the sentiments. They really are a good bunch of people we have there right now (despite what they’ve been convicted of).

Bran and Boy did laundry this weekend. I folded it all. Yes, it’s all done, and it’s all folded. Most of it’s been put away save for some of Boy’s clothes. He was in bed when I got home from work.

It’s been stupid hot the past couple of days and it’s expected to get hotter. Tomorrow we’re expecting a high of 30C. That makes me want to melt into a frizzy puddle of sweat. Sorry for the image, but that’s what this kind of weather does to me.

That’s about it from here. I’m hungry. Scrambled eggs are in my future.

Ta-Ra

My co-worker/friend’s husband died this afternoon.

It was too quiet at work without Bodie squawking. I missed the happy dance he did when he saw me. I missed chirring at him and him chirring back. I missed him.

Today was crazy busy. I’m doing weekly reports for a few weeks and doing them on evening shift, frankly, sucks. There are people coming and going and all kinds of demands on my time that prevented me form getting them done tonight. I’ll finish them up tomorrow. I’m working the day shift. Right now it’s 1:45 am. I’m going to be in rough shape.

We get another new resident tomorrow. We’ve gotten one Friday and expect another on Thursday. I’m also training the new staff who’s going to be taking my counter-part’s place. So I have to make sure she knows about writing reports, what to do when new residents arrive, what to do when residents leave, and all the regular shift stuff. It’s going to be interesting.

I went to the gym today instead of yesterday. It was just a cardio workout as my gym buddy didn’t show up until I was nearly done. I didn’t expect him to turn up at all. He spent time trying to get his friend out of bed. I was going to try and go tomorrow after work, but that’s not going to work for Bran who has to make sure that Boy is fed and then take him to work.

I’m going to bed now. I have to be up at around 7:00 tomorrow…this morning. Oy! The things I do for co-workers.

Her husband is still in extremely critical condition. For a break she’s come back to town to see her kids and decompress for a bit before going back. He’s had a stroke, a small bleed. They think it’s stopped now but aren’t sure as to how severe the damage caused is. His liver and kidney function are still too low and the swelling of his brain is dangerous right now.

So please, if you can, pray, meditate, send good energy, whatever you can spare to both him and her.

Oh, the label I didn’t talk about in my last entry was “farts”.