Timeline

In so many ways, I am a compilation of various traits from both of my parents. From Mom - a genetic disposition to want/need to travel (which was passed down from her father), a penchant for tobacco (which I suspect contributed to her death, and the cigars I used to enjoy but haven't for well over a year now), and those stupid, panda-bear eyes that we develop from being overtired.

From Dad - a love for the English language and word games (Dad continues to play Scrabble online to this day, and I try to do the Sudoku from the newspaper every day), attention to detail, and a need to be in control.

With regard to that last point - Dad looked a lot better today than last week; more rested-looking and playing the aforementioned Scrabble when I got to his apartment for the usual Saturday visit. In the course of conversation, he reaffirmed his thoughts that - come January - he will likely stop with dialysis. Based on the conversation with hospice earlier this month, that will mean the end will likely come within two weeks after that.

And this is the one decision that he has some measure of control over. He can plan this one final act, and I believe that this measure of control has helped him to feel better about things overall. Although he did say that he was still tired and is spending more time in bed trying to sleep, he has not changed his opinion of feeling like he's tired of fighting back and is prepared "to go".

He has also spent some considerable amount of time thinking about this lately, too. First, he asked me if I felt like he was being selfish in wanting to pursue this course of action.

Of. Course. Not.

I am just happy to have had the time we have had - because between the medications he takes for his various maladies, and dialysis, he has lived many more years than he might have otherwise and he is definitely in Extra Time. Or Overtime. Or Extra Innings. Perhaps Green-White-Checkers, even. Whatever sports analogy you want to use.

Then he mentioned that he talked to a Methodist priest/fellow resident where he lives about his decision, and whether it was a form of suicide. As he and I have discussed, and was affirmed by this priest, it is not suicide. If he put a gun to his head to end things, that is one thing. With this, he is simply being an informed participant in his health care.

So he has set a timeline. And made a very simple, but profound, decision. The last measure of control in his life.

And I am OK with it. Three years ago, all of us in the family started down this path together, and we all agreed at that point that the decisions we made were to make Dad comfortable and to give him the best possible "quality of life". At that point, I didn't know what that meant.

Now I do.

And, truth be told, I would probably make the same decisions if I was in his shoes. Because the alternative is much more difficult to fathom.

Change

While sitting on my lawn tractor this evening (having what I otherwise call "noodle time"), I reflected on what's been happening over the last 3 or 4 months. This led to further reflection over the last 3 years since Mom's death - something I've been doing a lot of lately.

It's been an eventful time - both good and bad. In no particular order - Mom's passing, MIL's passing, one of my sisters-in-law passing, the son of one niece (-in-law) passing late in the third trimester, the son of another niece(-in-law) born and now a happy little boy, a number of awesome events with family and our church's high school youth at various activities and mission trips, and Dad going on to dialysis, moving out here to be closer to us, and flourishing and rediscovering himself in many ways. Those were some of the biggest events from the last blog post until the new year of 2011.

Change.

So far in 2011 we have seen (again in no particular order) - the completion of our duties as youth leaders with our high-school youth at church, The Legacy's graduation from high school and moving into the college dorms in exactly one month, the marriage of yet another niece(-in-law) in a wonderful (if warm) ceremony, the first extended vacation for my Bride and I since the Legacy's birth (to celebrate 25 years of matrimony, and in Europe no less!), the death of my Aunt (Mom's sister), and the recent decline in Dad's health that has had him consider discontinuing dialysis and the certain outcome that will come after that.

Change.

Much to be proud of, and much to celebrate. However, the death of my Aunt has led me down a dark path. As I grieved her passing and some of what I might have been able to do differently, it has made me realize that I never fully nor appopriately grieved Mom. In focusing on Dad and his needs for the best possible quality of life for him, (and trying to be a good Dad myself, providing for the needs of my family at many levels) - there just wasn't time.

That realization came creashing down in the weeks after my Aunt's death. It's like it swept over me and, at times, enveloped my soul as if in a blanket. Nothing in, nothing out. Just pain, loneliness, and longing. Pain in grief, a form of loneliness which contributed to significant depression, and a longing to find a way out.

Profound change.

So, for deep within that trench, I looked for light and asked for help. Getting medicated, getting some counseling, and reading about and reflecting on the grief and its sources, I felt I had made some progress towards climbing out of this hole - perhaps a glimmer at the end fo the cliched tunnel.

Then, two weeks ago, Dad was hospitalized with some minor chest pain and needing to be dialyzed in-hospital and off-schedule due to widespread power outages in our area that included his normal dialysis center.

When Dad got back from hospital, he confided in my that he was extremely fatigued, had been having trouble sleeping, and had been considering whether it was time to end this fight and go home. That statement came a bit unexpectedly, and the floor I thought was being rebuilt in my trench was immediately destroyed and I was back in the bottom of that trench.

Change.

I subsequently kept a previously-scheduled appointment with one of my counselors, which lasted all of 20 minutes and didn't go anything as I expected. In addition, I have been unimpressed with the second counselor, as the resource provided seemed to suggest that compartmentalization and separation from those "bad" feelings according to some "new-agey" strategy was a good thing - something already proven false in my case.

In the mean time, I identified the book "On Grief and Grieving" by Elisabeth Kubler-Ross and David Kessler. This resourse is organized to provide a framework of what grief might look like to some folks, and where you might want to look in your grief for underlying causes - and perhaps even some resolutions. Much more satisfying to my analytical brain.

But there was still a hole in this approach - what to do with those thoughts and feelings that pour out as this process continues. So, on the mower tonight, I was reminded that expressing some of that in writing and getting in out on this blog might be useful and cathartic. It has worked in the past in completely unrelated circumstances, so maybe it'll work now.

We shall see.