Tuesday, July 23, 2013

Oh, Death, You're So Comical & Unfair

Darrell's been very confused lately, which is normal because there's not as much oxygen going to his brain.  He keeps seeing people that aren't there and particularly, he's been seeing people who've been dead for over 30 years.  Crawford, a friend of Darrell's took mom aside one day & told her to watch her back.  He said Darrell had told him how much he wanted to hit mom on the back of the head.  Mom wasn't nearly as concerned about it as I was but she is a bit concerned for her two small dogs.  Darrell is very confused.  Who knows what's he's saying half the time. Of course I told her if he becomes violent or even looks like he might become violent, "You put him in the hospital or you put him in a home!"

Kathy said this is normal when a person is literally fighting death.  When Kathy took a week off, a fill in nurse came over & she said she went through this mean streak when her father was dying.  Basically he was mean as a snake right at the end.  It seems cruel because a person is going through so much watching their loved one die and yet have to put up with such meanness at the same time.

"He doesn't know how to fight it," Kathy said.  I suppose that's true.  Although Darrell has been displaying moments of very sweet tenderness, then like a psychotic schizo he'll flip and become very, very mean.

Mom knows it probably won't be too long now and she cries as she tells me his skin has a grayish tint to it and his blood pressure is 90/40.  She stopped by the store today to pick up some stuff of hers I'd had repaired.  I led her into the parking lot after she started crying a little and told her my very weird dream last night.

I'd been having really wild, wacky dreams lately.  None of it makes any sense but I totally remember them.  Last night I dreamed I was at Mom's house and it was just crammed full of people ("Oh great!" Mom says in real life) and Death, the standard character of Death, with the black robes and the sickle was gliding about, all over the house.  Also,t he house was really full of old people--I remember most of the people were really old.
So I went to the bathroom and locked the door because I was afraid Death might come after me.  Even with the door closed and locked I was aware that Death was passing down the hallway.  As he continued down the hallway, his shoulder and a bit of his torso passed through the door along the way.  I'd better hurry up in here, I thought as I quickly zipped and buttoned my pants.  (At this point Mom is freaking out a bit in real life)  As I opened the bathroom door, Death glided toward me.  It wasn't threatening or scary at all but I was very well aware he was coming toward ME.
I squatted down just a bit, bending my knees and thrust my hands into the air doing a jazz-hands sort of mimic and started out real loud, "WAAAUGGHHH!  WAAUGGHHH!"  Death continued on to pass me and looked at me sideways as if to say, "What the hell is wrong with you?!" and continued on his way.  I saw his face, it wasn't a skull but a human face but looked like leather that had gotten wet and dried too quickly, also it was flat gray.  But the way Death looked at me and cocked an eyebrow that wasn't there made me almost laugh when I woke up.

In reality it was the action of the jazz-hands and loud shouting that actually made Mom laugh a little.  Just a little.  I've never put much stock into dreams and what they could or might mean--I think it's all a bunch of nonsense and memories bumping into each other as I sleep.  Kind of like when I defrag my hard drive.  ...Just information being pulled apart and put back together to make more room for new information.  Dive into that and see what sort of metaphors you come up with.

Monday, July 15, 2013

Trickle Down

Last week, Darrell's hospice nurse, Kathy instructed mom on how to ween Darrell from the steroids.  On Saturday, Mom said he'd been much, much less nasty.  During our visit, he slept a lot.  Whether or not I should place blame on the steroids or Darrell's natural thoughts, I do not know.  I have always beleived that no matter what sort of drugs a person is on, there is a bit of that person's mind still alive and active.  Although I've never been under the influence of hard drugs, save for a week on Vicoten while recovered from dry socket after a wisdom tooth extraction.  I slept mostly that whole week.

I can't speak for the future.  I do not know what will happen.  I hope for Darrell to go peacefully, comfortably.  Maybe he'll slip into a coma as Kathy once suggested.  Maybe he'll have a heart attack and go suddenly and very quickly.

Mom told me he certainly will not be visiting his estranged wife anymore.  She will not drive him there.  After the last visit Darrell was unnaturally wired, if you get my meaning.  Mom said she will not take him anymore.  He needs to be home, she's says, inside and comfortable.  In other words, he will not be getting into anymore meth on her watch and she's sounding pretty firm on this one for a chance.  Poor mom just doesn't know exactly how to recognize the signs of this stuff.  Shawn & I have both worked with people who were on meth and so we both educated her a bit.

As for the drinking, well I am sure about how much he's drinking.  I know Mike's Hard Cider is in the fridge.  And I know Darrell calls them Sissy Drinks, meaning there's not much alcohol int hem, however he never was a happy drunk.  Ever.  I'll have to get with mom on that one.  Not sure he's drank much since his last visit with Amy, who is notorious for getting him super drunk (and angry--because he's drunk) and jkust dropping him off at Mom's house.  That may have come to an end.

Like I said, he's like a gigantic three year old.  You can't tell him anything.  ANd he'll argue with you until one of you is out of breath.  We'll see how this goes.

Tuesday, July 9, 2013

Ashes

This is a discussion that's been ad many times.  Darrell is very specific about who he wants present at his scattering of ashes.  Only immediate family is intended to be invited.  These are his wishes:  Mom and dad, of course, me & my sister (even though she stole morphine from his for about 3 months), Darrell's two sons (even though the eldest has been acting like a cretin & refuses to see Darrell) and I think his estranged wife, Betty.  That's it.

Our cousin Donna expressed how much she'd like to attend but Mom said, "I have to honor his wishes," and Donna understands.  Mom asked Darrell about other cousins, people who were one close.  He contends that when things were good, meaning when he was healthy & vibrant, some of these people--not all of them--but some had wanted nothing to do with him.  I pointed out to mom that after a certain point, Darrell wanted nothing to with us and she agreed as well as saw the irony written plainly on the wall.  But these are his wishes. 

In hindsight, I'd considered that none of these people wanted much to do with Darrell beofre is because he's always sort of been a bipolar asshole, and well, that I could understand.  Of course people become busy with work & family and et certera so what does it matter if six people or sixty attend the scattering of the ashes?  "I gotta honor his wishes," mom says.

On a lighter note, and I must first explain, you must understand dark humor in order to understand the following.  I've had teeny weeny tastes of what it's like for mom and dad and their day to day lives.  They are miserable.  Some days, many actually, mom wishes she was dead because she cannot stand to live right now.  Darrell is no easy patient.  He's always been a stubborn donkey but the past few weeks it's been multiplied by a thousand.  He's falling asleep with a glass of juice in his hand.  You attempt to take the juice from his hand and he snarls at you.  It's like that every second of every day.  Also, there is juice and broken glass EVERYWHERE.

So one day Dad took Darrell to mark exactly where he wanted to be returned to the earth.  The steroids have made him like a really big, really clumsy 2 year old that you can't tell anything to.  He's paces a lot, and his mind isn't working properly.

The hospice nurse, Kathy said she was a bit suprised Darrell was still with us and said it could be any time now.  I couldn't help but laugh out loud when mom told me this but apparently dad said something along the lines of, "They been saying that for 2 months and the way Darrell was going today it'll be another 2 months!"  I told this to Shawn and was laughing while I told it.

You must understand this is all in good humor.  Of course no one wants him to die, we merely want him to be out of pain, out of confusion.  None of us are faithful enough to expect miracles and when a family is going through this, any bit of humor or cause for laughter is good enough.  Of course Dad meant it in a joking manner & no one judged him for it.  We laughed too.

Saturday, July 6, 2013

Saturday

Today wasn't so bad.  My stomach knotted up the closer we got to Buckholts.  I'd alrady made my mind up that if Darrell wanted to talk trash about my mother in front of me, I wasn't going to have it.  I'd made up my mind that it's not just a cocktail of drugs, that we're well beyond blaming it on the drugs.  Phooey, I say!

However, when we arrived Darrell was in a very deep sleep and continued to drift in and out for the duration of our visit.  I brought a casserole and as I was later in the kitchen sticking it in the oven, mom caught me away from everyone and just about broke in two.  "I know it's not him!" she cried.

She was of course referring to his outbursts and cussing and ugliness, generally speaking.  She saidshe was changing his bandage this morning, changing the guaze that collects the stinky goo that runs from his ear and he began to cry and said, "I just want a ticket home, sis."

Mom began to weep openly now and said that was something that mentioned int he little booklet given to her by the hospice nurse, that people int heir very last days talk about "taking a trip".  Also this morning he said he'd wanted to see Aunt Mickey and Joyce; he said he knew it would be the last time.  Mom drove him over there and they had a nice visit.

Darrell's been driving her and dad both crazy after being placed on the steroids but of course I hated to see her like this as well.  It occurred to me though that if he had never gotten sick, they might still be not be speaking to one another--or barely as they often had in the past.  She once told me that the time they had gotten was just "precious".

"I couldn't do this again," she said.  "It would kill me."