Monday, September 27, 2010

acknowledgement


This is the last printed card that will have all of our names together on it.

Wednesday, September 22, 2010

official

 A giant Forest Lawn envelope came in the mail yesterday. I was a little perplexed as to what could be in it. A giant thank you card for spending thousands of dollars on a funeral, a brochure and advanced planning kit for my own funeral, an itemized list on charges they forgot to add... Then it dawned on me, its the death certificates. shit. I prepared myself for the breakdown, opened the packet, searched for the cause of death... and there it was.
A sudden sense of satisfaction came over me. Damn right, that is what took him and if they had put heart failure or something else, as they frequently do with most dementia's, I would have been pissed. I don't know why, its not like it would have mattered. but it strangely did matter to me, I fought and paid for that diagnosis. When the doctor told me that this is what he believed my husband had I felt like i wanted to fall apart and kiss him at the same time. finally fuck. somebody was listening and giving a shit, not just giving up because they didn't know what was wrong. no more of him coming home with Levitra for his "issues". no more of the stigma of having and assumed mental disease-- a "real" disease of the brain, a part of him was dying and his behavior was now...forgivable? no. accepted? no, i don't know what i would call it. but the diagnosis did make a difference in the way he was treated when he had done something appalling. nurses, firemen, police, et cetera no longer were short with him, their tones had changed with him when I told them what was wrong, they took time to listen to all he had to say, a look of pity was on their faces when they interacted with him, no more cold blank non judgemental stares at him because it was part of their job. --and now its permanent- printed on fine, engraved, embossed, and digitally signed paper. This disease that designated my husband and gave me a strange feeling of satisfaction every time it was said or typed now really means nothing. it doesn't matter anymore.

Sunday, September 19, 2010

the last days

It was a on a friday night that he was taken to the ER for a check up. His leg wasn't getting better, he appeared to be having small seizures. The ambulance pulls up and he recognizes me. He smiles. ....wow, this is hard to write... feelings of rage, pain, sorrow, are brewing and bubbling up inside ready to overflow.
I'll just stick to the basics. I had texted my friend from the hospital that I could swear jim was dying.- That was on Sunday. On Tuesday  I was asked if they could test him for "mad cow" disease. I said "no more pain, give my husband a pain patch and something for anxiety". I'll call hospice, the doctor said.
The hospice nurse came late afternoon that day. She looks at jim, "wow, he is actively dying. I wasn't told that". she leaves the room and is on the phone. I just think "no shit". I knew this was coming, after telling everyone till i was blue in the face that he wasn't going to last the summer. and now it was clear to everyone else. I had had his last rights given the night before and now i needed him to get home. fast.
I got him home on the next day in the afternoon. I was told he would last 2 weeks or more. I told them he wasn't going to make it thru Friday. They smiled and said they had seen this before. --and i gave up, nothing in me could fight anymore. I just said okay, and agreed that the doctor, social workers, home health aids, ect. would come on Friday.
That night my brother went to get the morphine. it was late and he was very tired but i said we needed it tonight. At 5:00am we gave it to him, I made the calls. Everyone said that they would come later in the morning, that it wasn't time. At 6:30 am Jims heart stopped, you could actually hear it stop beating. Then the last breaths came.
--alot had happened in the last days that i just can't write about right now. Jim was alert, his eyes had been fixed and glassy since that Saturday. but he could kiss you and talk.

-this post isn't what i wanted it to be. but it is all i can give at the moment.-

Friday, September 17, 2010

uhhh

I came across this ugly sweater Jim is wearing in this picture today. It was buried under old clothes that Jim kept from college. It looks like a warm sweater, made out of thick wool...it is also now saturated with my tears and snot.