Cross-posted
from our family and friends support group. It’s long past the time when
Tom’s request that this remain private matters. Things like pride,
secrecy, how things look, have been at the root of his life struggle.
***********************
Status quo. Not sure if the relatively quiet night was related to meds, progression of the dying process, or circadian rhythm. Tom’s breathing is labored, noisy due to fluid build-up. But he seems less conscious / aware - yesterday there were moments of struggle as he wanted to sit up or vocalized “get me out of here”. Pretty sure Kathy, who was here Sunday and Monday nights, did the heavy lifting in terms of agitation, panic, trying to keep Tom calm. Just praying that the hospice team is doing the best they can to minimize pain and suffering. When he was agitated yesterday, I held his hand, talked to him of mom & dad, our grandparents, lost pets and relatives and friends. Told him it was ok to let go, that he was loved, that he would be missed.
This is so hard. The capacity of the human body to endure, to continue to grasp the last threads of life in the face of a lifetime of abuse is remarkable. Tom is so strong, so attached to life. And the irony - of healthy yet fragile lives lost so suddenly, to overdose or violence or accident or sudden illness - while this life seems so resilient, is not lost on me.
Since Tom’s initial hospitalization at the beginning of April, this has been a hard road for us all. Tom has raged against the darkness, fighting for every precious moment, every scrap of life, endured so many indignities, long after most of us would have folded up, given in. Stubborn as hell. “A little bullhead” as mom would say.
It does not seem like it will be long. But, knowing Tom, it might be longer than we think. We’re hanging in there. Thanks for continued love, support, prayers.
***********************
And an addendum, for my own timeline. As the nurse and aide came in this morning to check on Tom, I moved to the hall. Was quietly weeping as I wrote up the above. The nurse walked by to check on me, was I ok. I almost had to smile.
It’s the nature of my spiritual work that sadness and tears are welcomed. As someone who learned early and well to push down emotions, to bottle things up, sitting and weeping over a dying brother is appropriate, welcome even. No, I do not seek sadness or crave emotion. But when it’s there, it’s there.
So often we try to stop tears, calm anger in others, because these emotions make us uncomfortable. I’ve come to embrace these as I encounter them in students, trainees, friends. How can my own tears, as we work through this, be anything but appropriate.
***********************
Status quo. Not sure if the relatively quiet night was related to meds, progression of the dying process, or circadian rhythm. Tom’s breathing is labored, noisy due to fluid build-up. But he seems less conscious / aware - yesterday there were moments of struggle as he wanted to sit up or vocalized “get me out of here”. Pretty sure Kathy, who was here Sunday and Monday nights, did the heavy lifting in terms of agitation, panic, trying to keep Tom calm. Just praying that the hospice team is doing the best they can to minimize pain and suffering. When he was agitated yesterday, I held his hand, talked to him of mom & dad, our grandparents, lost pets and relatives and friends. Told him it was ok to let go, that he was loved, that he would be missed.
This is so hard. The capacity of the human body to endure, to continue to grasp the last threads of life in the face of a lifetime of abuse is remarkable. Tom is so strong, so attached to life. And the irony - of healthy yet fragile lives lost so suddenly, to overdose or violence or accident or sudden illness - while this life seems so resilient, is not lost on me.
Since Tom’s initial hospitalization at the beginning of April, this has been a hard road for us all. Tom has raged against the darkness, fighting for every precious moment, every scrap of life, endured so many indignities, long after most of us would have folded up, given in. Stubborn as hell. “A little bullhead” as mom would say.
It does not seem like it will be long. But, knowing Tom, it might be longer than we think. We’re hanging in there. Thanks for continued love, support, prayers.
***********************
And an addendum, for my own timeline. As the nurse and aide came in this morning to check on Tom, I moved to the hall. Was quietly weeping as I wrote up the above. The nurse walked by to check on me, was I ok. I almost had to smile.
It’s the nature of my spiritual work that sadness and tears are welcomed. As someone who learned early and well to push down emotions, to bottle things up, sitting and weeping over a dying brother is appropriate, welcome even. No, I do not seek sadness or crave emotion. But when it’s there, it’s there.
So often we try to stop tears, calm anger in others, because these emotions make us uncomfortable. I’ve come to embrace these as I encounter them in students, trainees, friends. How can my own tears, as we work through this, be anything but appropriate.
“This being human is a guest house. Every morning is a new arrival. A joy, a depression, a meanness, some momentary awareness comes as an unexpected visitor...Welcome and entertain them all. Treat each guest honorably. The dark thought, the shame, the malice, meet them at the door laughing, and invite them in. Be grateful for whoever comes, because each has been sent as a guide from beyond.” ~ Rumi
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