The end is near. Honestly, it could be days or weeks, my guess is a few weeks. I've just booked a flight for next weekend to go home and see Dad, and it sounds like both of my sisters will be there at the same time. The speed of his cancer amazes me. I last saw him about a month ago and he was walking and fairly strong, looking well if not a little worn. I don't think I will see the same person when I go home next weekend. I'm preparing for that.
He's in the hospital right now in Charleston and the trip to NYC is out. With his deterioration over the past few weeks he no longer has the strength to walk, he's in increased pain (they have put him on synthetic morphine), and Monday they plan on doing an MRI and beginning some radiation therapy to help alleviate some of the cancer that is causing the pain. Their major concern right now, and the MRI will show, whether or not the cancer has moved into the nerves. I'm preparing for that.
Mary Ann has contacted hospice and they will start working with her and Dad on Monday. I don't know much about them but they essentially are there to provide comfort to terminally ill patients as they slowly lose their battle with disease. I'm preparing for that.
The hardest thing for me today was wondering how to handle this with the kids. Especially Isabella. She's only 5 and a half and after much thought, I decided it was not the best idea in the world to take her to WV with me to say goodbye. I don't want her last memory of her grandfather to be him, laying in a bed, looking sick. She has a lot of good memories, and she last saw him in NYC when Dad and Mary Ann took her to see the Rockette's Holiday Show. She knows he's sick and somehow I will have to let her know he is dying or that he has died. I'm preparing for that.
So, it seems we are lining up our ducks in a row and waiting for the inevitable. That being said, nearly everytime death is in the air, I'm reminded of the poem by W. H. Auden that I find to quite powerful. This is the first section.
I
Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,
Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,
Silence the pianos and with muffled drum
Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.
Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead
Scribbling on the sky the message He Is Dead,
Put crêpe bows round the white necks of the public
doves,
Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.
He was my North, my South, my East and West,
My working week and my Sunday rest,
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;
I thought that love would last for ever: I was wrong.
The stars are not wanted now: put out every one;
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun;
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood.
For nothing now can ever come to any good.
For this, I am preparing.
Rob, I had forgotten the terrible anguish in Auden's poem, but it is so true and unbearably sad. You will find your dad very frail, but still clear and seeking some understanding of this terrible, ravaging disease that is overtaking him. After talking with him yesterday, I think that what he wants from his own kids is an affirmation that he will be remembered as a man of decency. He wants, I think, to have a legacy through all of you that demonstrates his belief that you work towards discerning and doing "the right things" in life, ven when that is hard and requires some selflesness. It will help him to know that you will share your memories of him with Liam. I think he has made a "sea change' and has begun the process of drifting away. Just love him and try to find the words to tell him. That is a gift that I know he will cherish, and it will strengthen him to face his death. Love,Mom
Sending you energy. Take care Rob.
Posted by: Wendy at April 3, 2004 10:27 PM