Tank Park Salute

I wrote this some months ago.

In the week since my former father in law passed away, I have found myself overwhelmed with sadness and grief.  I see older men with their wives, limping slightly and I have a flash of anger.  Anger that they are here and he is gone.

I'm amazed by my brain.  How could I think such a thing? 

So anathema to who he was, each day of his life. 

I looked to him to see how to respond to something like this.

This is the man who helped paint my children's room before they were born.  He helped me buy three of my past four cars.  He bought the ipod for me so I was able to start listening to podcasts.  I am still in shock - I'm not sure that I can even comprehend what this loss means for me and my children.

I take comfort in knowing that he loved me and was proud of me.  Despite divorcing his son.

When I moved out, the movers didn't show up.  He (and my ex) were there with friends.  He helped me move into my new place. He said to let him know if I needed anything, and he meant it.

One of the last times I saw him, I mentioned to him that I was reading the Hamilton biography.  I wanted to give it to him afterwards.  I wanted him to read it as well., so we could talk about it.  I would like to think he would have done that.  He mentioned that he wasn't impressed by Hamilton.

Few people in one's life will love you unconditionally.  Love without any expectation of reciprocity.  I was fortunate to have my former father in law who believed in me.  With no strings attached.  He and my former mother in law helped me go to night school to go into IT.  When the twins were born, they would take a weekend and stay up all night with the twins so their dad and I could sleep for 8 precious hours.

This grief is a knot that may never come undone.  Logically, I know this is the way he wanted to go.  Peacefully (is death ever peaceful?) in his sleep.  Not after a long illness.  With all of his wits about him, completely independent. 

I'm almost certain I had a conversation with him about this very thing.

As a former daughter in law, my position is tenuous and intensely awkward.  My presence is not wanted.  There is some sort of competition in this grief. It must be threatening that I loved my father in law too.  Just because I divorced their son, doesn't mean I loved them any less. 

Truth will prevail, and this truth prevails.

Suicide

I was shocked and saddened to learn of the death of a friend/acquaintance from college.  We weren't close - we weren't even friends on a certain social networking site. I found out about his death through the alumni class notes (which should say a lot).  But at a small school with 1200 students, you pretty much know everyone, or know someone who knows them.  And we had friends in common.

I'm struck by two things.  First, I'm struck that he was really the last person (or one of the last people) I would have expected to suffer from severe depression and to take his own life*. 

So what does that say? Evidently just because you know someone's public persona (and you've debated philosophy with them once or twice) doesn't mean you know anything about their inner life - who they really are.

*Let me explain what I mean.  David Foster Wallace suffered from severe depression and wrote about it eloquently. I was saddened but not shocked by his death for that reason.  It may sound callous or crass to say, but that's my take.  When people suffer from a disease, it's not unexpected when you lose them to that disease.

So I return to - how much did I know anyone? The news had me wondering "WTF" all last week - I initially thought it was some sort of elaborate joke.

Second, I question my own perspective about my friends from college - many are all stuck in my mind permanently where we were fifteen years ago.  I've changed - a lot - but I keep expecting this nebulous "they" to remain just where they were. 

Sure, some people have gotten married (and divorced) and had kids - and I see lovely photos of their lives on fb. 

I don't know, this guy seemed so put together and successful.  I could have easily seen him running for office, a professor or successful businessman, just about anything.  Fifteen years ago, the future seemed wide open. 

Things change.  What the heck happened?

My husband says I have to get used to this, the first set of friends dying from 18 -25, the second set after 35.  I don't think the losses will ever not be shocking.


Finally - suicide in itself makes people sad and uncomfortable - we've changed from the 1960s where it was taboo to discuss...But even today - it does seem taboo to discuss.

A death benefit or the last two weeks of life

It should come as no surprise that humans are uncomfortable with death and mortality.  American culture is obsessed with youth.  We don't want to admit to aging or dying.  I would be happy to show anyone the rows of aging creams in any pharmacy.

I listened recently to this great podcast

from This American Life about loopholes.  In it, a lawyer had read the small print and figured out an investment opportunity with annuities (sadly the loophole has been closed).  He contacted someone who was terminally ill.  I will over-simplify it, but if they agreed to sign forms, an unrelated investor would receive their entire original investment plus interest (even if there was a loss) upon the original person's demise.  The investor didn't have to be related in any way to the terminally ill patient.  For this agreement, the patient would receive thousands of dollars in cash. 

One daughter (in the program) explained that her mom really appreciated the money before she passed on.  When she went to the  mall with her grandson, she could buy him the things he wanted; she wouldn't have been able to afford them before.  The daughter said it meant a lot to her mom during her last days.

There are many issues with funding medicare.  Medicare costs keep spiraling.  And it's a sobering statistic that 80% of of the spending occurs in the last two weeks of life*.  That fact is shocking to me.  I know we are uncomfortable with death.  We hate it, we rage against it.  People are especially uncomfortable with losing parents and loved ones.

But we are bankrupting our country because we can't admit the truth, that we are dying and our loved ones will die.  (How does the cliche go?  The things that won't change - death and taxes). 

The pragmatist in me pondered the annuity idea and this medicare fact.  What if, like in the podcast, we gave terminally ill people a choice.  The government would give a portion of the money ($20,000, $50,000) cash to a family in the above situation.  The person/family then agreed that they would get only palliative care - do not resuscitate, manage pain, etc.

If I were terminally ill and near death - I would much rather have that money to spend at the end of my life.  I would want my children to have that money after I'm gone.  I would rather they have a nice vacation or pay down debt than have that money go to doctors and hospitals.

Money is such a driving force in our culture.  At times, it seems like we are selling our souls (what makes us human, what makes us unique).  But the profit motive cannot be denied. 

Most people make decisions based on finances, at least partially based on finances.  There are many other factors, but finances are often key. 

 People wouldn't be forced to take the money.  But it seems to me that when there is a financial incentive, people are much more willing to make a tough choice. 

Some may say (like the above lawyer's actions) that this is immoral or unethical.  It's true that issues of life and death are incredibly complex.   But we as a country are already steeply involved in these issues. We are keeping people on feeding tubes and ventilators because we can't bear to let their bodies go.  And some of these people were frugal during their lives.  Maybe they would take the sugar packets from restaurants.  Maybe they would drive five extra miles to save $.10 in gas.   They would be shocked and saddened to find out that their children and the government had spent $200,000, $500,000 or more in their last two weeks.

I support medicare - I support caring for our aging and infirm elderly.  But I also support making the hard choices and decisions; in recognizing what we are really paying for. 

Just because we can keep someone's body alive, doesn't always mean we should. 

*I searched for the original reference to this statistic, and I can't find it.  But it's clear from the news link, we (the government) spend(s) a lot of money during the last few months of life, and often in the ICU (which is very expensive). 

Denial about Aging

I took an age-related medical test recently.  It was one of those tests that the medical community suggests that you take when you reach a certain keystone age. 

Fortunately, money is not a concern about the test (I have insurance; not great insurance but insurance). 

But I realized that I was uncomfortable about scheduling the test because of what it meant.  It means that I have reached the age where I have to schedule some age related tests. 

I wonder if that's part of the reason people shy away from getting such tests done.  Some people have philosophical issues about some medical testing (which I can understand and respect).  But rather I wonder if some of us are uncomfortable because of what that means about aging.  Some of us (myself included) would much rather be in denial that we're getting older, and that something will one day kill us. 

Does anyone want to admit that they're getting older, that they're not 23 any more?

I also finished The Year of Magical Thinking by Joan Didion.  It was an interesting book; her ability with language is amazing.  In it, her husband collapses and dies of a massive heart attack at dinner.

During one part of the book, she thinks back to what she knew, if she could have prevented him from dying. She remembers that he had a test in the 1980s.  One of his veins/arteries was clogged - the doctor said that it was something to watch. He said a nickname among doctors for that artery was "the widowmaker".  Didion's husband, John, wondered if it would one day kill him.  Joan responded that no one knows when their death will be, and in what form.  Yet that was exactly what happened, fifteen, twenty years later.

Sometimes, do we want to assume that we are different and unique? That whatever is hurting or harming someone else, won't harm us.  It's a teenager point of view that never really goes away.  

Death of a child

Are there worse things than the death of a child?  That's what I was asking myself earlier this week.  I can think of a handful of worse things, but the death of a child is pretty damn horrific.

I attended the wake of a young toddler a few days ago. The child was a relative of a co-worker; I had never met the child before.

The weight of the sorrow, the sadness and horror of it all is overwhelming.  As a parent, this is your worst nightmare, you turn your back and your child is gone.  There are few words to describe how sad it was.  The tiny coffin is heartbreaking.

My friend was doing as best as you can, but the child's mother looked like hell.

I think it's safe to say that hell on earth is losing your child so young.  It must sound like an exaggeration, but I don't think so.  I don't want to describe more of what I saw, more of the pain - it's a little like child birth, you want to distance yourself from the pain and forget as soon as possible (for self protection).

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So I can certainly imagine why the idea of sealing families was so appealing to early mormons, and continues to bring people to the LDS church today.  When you've experienced a loss so enormous, so unimaginable, a person might do anything to feel better.  You do anything to believe that death can be cheated.

My friend's family is not mormon, and there is no way I would bring this up at such a hellish time (I hope that goes without saying).

Yet I believe there is a strong, human impulse to comfort, to say that the loved one is in a better place, that we will be with them again.  And who am I to get in the way of that?  I have no answers.

For my non mormon readers, Joseph Smith said he had a vision of his brother Alvin*, and he encouraged him to start performing baptisms and sealing ordinances by proxy.  This would get around the religious questions of the time - what would happen to someone who died before they heard of mormonism, or who wasn't "saved".  All of a sudden, it didn't matter if your loved one wasn't mormon or around to be mormon, you could still be with them in the afterlife.  Of course, there are all sorts of caveats, but for such loss, it makes sense that families would do anything to dull the pain.

Some of the caveats were that the baptism needs to be performed with people here on earth, who have physical bodies.  Mormonism has a unique emphasis (to my mind) on the physical body.  It has to be done in the mormon temple, where only the most worthy mormons can enter.  The baptized, deceased person (in the mormon version of purgatory) would then be free to accept the baptism, and then eventually be married (by proxy) and be in heaven with their family.  The exact details are confusing, and can cause hours of debate with some circles of mormons (I could link to faithful mormon discussions here, but choose not to).  But the point of all this is the ability to feel some slight comfort in the face of such sadness and grief.

This is simply what I was thinking about, after watching such a loss from the outside earlier this week.

*I found this article on the mormon curtain that discusses Alvin's death. The article is about 2/3rds down the page by Steve Benson.  I haven't checked the references, so please take this with a grain of salt.  It certainly seems very plausible to me that at Alvin's funeral, the minister did not give comfort to Joseph Smith's family and that later, the idea of baptism by proxy was more attractive.

Something's Going to Kill You

**Warning: Maudlin post below**

I've reduced my diet cola consumption over the past year or so, on the advice of my dentist.  Some family members were in disbelief when they heard this news .  Evidently carbonated beverages can be bad for your teeth.  

Then I heard about this study, which found a link between diet soda and stroke or heart attack.  I am skeptical about correlation vs. causation, but I think this may be a piece of the puzzle.  So now I'm still working on cutting back my diet soda consumption (in earnest).  I've found that some lemonade and unsweetened iced tea is an okay substitute.  I will continue to consume some diet soda, just in moderation and not as much as before. 

As some former smoker family members of mine pointed out, sometimes I think I may be more addicted to the chemicals in the diet soda (in their case, chemicals in the cigarettes) than the caffeine. 
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This week we also heard the news that a good friend of my in laws passed away from a massive heart attack.  Their death was sudden.  This person had many health risk factors, which included not getting routine medical care. They may or may not have had diabetes, etc.  They were in their sixties, which from my thirties is looking younger and younger.

Such things are baffling and difficult to understand. 

At this person's very large funeral, my husband said so many friends were angry.  They had tried to tell the friend to go to the doctor, to get help.  They had offered to drive the person to the doctor.  I find it is very hard not to think of some of the stubborn refusal as selfish.

It is so difficult to make sense of what happened, of why.  How this person's spouse of forty years will be able to continue on.  But, the person lived the way they wanted to.  How does that song by the Who go " I hope I die before I get old".

 In the end, death is coming for everyone.  I've been attempting to explain this to my kids, and it's difficult. Everything ends.  I don't have any answers.  I can't even give much in the way of reassurance.  There is so much we don't know, and don't understand. 

I am also struck, however, that in the end it doesn't matter if we go to the dentist faithfully, or get our medical checkups.  Or avoid diet cola. 

It behooves everyone to remain in good health for a host of reasons, including remaining active.  But in the end, we can't cheat or fool death.  It's about finding a balance, being able to enjoy life and our time here.  And to give back to those around us, to be aware and mindful of people who care about us.

Human Interaction part 2 - cultural taboo

This is another article in the series I mentioned yesterday about human development and behavior.   I find the notion of taboo fascinating.  What is taboo in our culture, and what is taboo in other cultures (they're not always the same).

In this part of the series, the interviewer and main interviewee talk about complex social interaction.  One of the things that the woman brings up is that some conversation topics are taboo.  One she mentions is death. 

Oops. 

I didn't realize talking about death was a taboo :). 

I believe there are different layers of conversation, times when some topics are okay, and times when they are not.  That's what I've learned over the years, anyhow.  Personally, I've struggled with tact and appropriate behavior for quite some time.

Yet I find that the people I'm drawn to, the people I find interesting are almost always the ones who push that envelope.  Who bring up uncomfortable truths no one wants to talk about. Not in a hurtful manner, of course, that's not easy to be around either. 

It's a balance - and a difficult line to tread.  I have sympathy for people who aren't able to navigate that line - who may be pre-disposed to not see those taboos or effortlessly navigate complex social interaction.

With that said, the cultural taboos I found in Russia were fascinating as well. They were not second nature to many of us (the American students).  Fortunately, some students had been there before and sent us a workbook full of tips.  Some could be considered superstition - but the line between taboo and superstition isn't terribly far.  Things like women were not supposed to sit on concrete or the ground (bad luck).  Or to give an even number of flowers (it meant death). 

I don't know if there were conversation topics that were taboo, I never understood the language or culture enough. 

Pallbearers

My husband's grandfather passed away last week.  I've been going through a range of emotions (for various reasons).  His funeral was this past weekend.

I was so touched that two of his granddaughters were pallbearers.

Now, perhaps I simply haven't been to many funerals with caskets, or perhaps I've just been hanging around really conservative religious people.  But traditionally I've only seen men surrounding the casket.  And yes, I realize that caskets are heavy.

But I was impressed by the idea that *I* could be a pallbearer for some of the people I love.  I appreciate the idea that you can honor a loved one by carrying their body to its final resting place.  I'm not sure how many people I know will choose to be buried this way, not cremated or to go through green burial.

For me, it's just another part of life that I'm not shut out of.  I wouldn't have to stand back, I could participate. 

For the record, I'm going to start campaigning for this now; to be able to be a pallbearer at their funeral.  I do have one particular person in mind; but there are others as well. 

In the end, I won't make a scene, but it would certainly bring peace and closure for me.  Culturally, being a pallbearer is a gesture of love, honor and respect.  I'm heartened that women are (now) allowed to be part of that tradition. 

Quality of Life issues

Everybody knows that the dice are loaded
Everybody rolls with their fingers crossed
                                           -Leonard Cohen

This business of living and dying - it's not for the faint of heart.  I've mentioned before, my husband's grandfather has been in and out of good health.  I honestly thought we had lost him two years ago.  So in that time, we've had holidays and celebrations - lots of good times. 

He is an amazing person, and wickedly intelligent.  If you can crack jokes in your 90s, you're wickedly intelligent, to my mind.

But he is really going now, and it's hard as hell to watch.  I won't go into the details, because it is an out of control situation that is driving me up a wall.  We are simply waiting. 

I don't want to mince words here.  We are waiting for him to starve to death or dehydrate. This sucks.


I believe this situation is inhumane. 

I know many may disagree with me.  They believe it's life taking its course.  I can't say.  I can say, I want things to be different if I make it to my mid-90s.  I want to have some time with loved ones and then be able to choose to move on.  That's not the law in my state but I want it to be. 

What's frightening is that no one wants to be at this place. Barely able to talk, unable to leave one's bed. (Does anyone actually realize what being unable to leave one's bed means until you spend time with someone unable to leave their bed?)

Someone I know said that we treat our dogs better than people, and honestly, I have to agree.  I know this post is angry and that's probably because that's where I'm at in the stages.

But no one deserves this. 

It's true, hospice has been called in.  They say he's not in pain, but when I saw him a few days ago I believe he was in some pain.  Who can say.  So thankfully no iv's have been ordered in - or feeding tubes. 

I simply understand the point that loved ones reach where you would rather someone be gone than alive in this state.  And this situation is totally incomprehensible (illogical) to me, which of course, pushes all my buttons.

So when it's my time, I hope that the law(s) will have changed.  I hope that we will allow people to choose and be able to go with dignity.  Sometimes the compassionate thing is to let people go - not to keep their bodies alive.

Life is too short

I found out over the weekend that one of my friends had passed away.  She was in her early thirties; it was from complications from liver disease.  I considered her a friend, although we had grown apart.  As I've mentioned before, I'm pretty horrid at keeping up with people.  She and I weren't especially close, but I do feel her loss.  I feel for her family, her nieces and nephews, her husband. 

We were able to recently reconnect on a popular social networking site, and I was able to send her a message.  Which I am very grateful for. 

I'm just reminded (as I usually am at these times) about how short life is. 

Really, it is awfully, completely brief.  I say that to friends, and they sometimes look at me like I'm being morbid.  I'm not trying to be morbid. I'm trying to be realistic.

When people talk about "the grand scheme of things" - this is what I think of.  People who are taken too young. I think about my own mortality and what I want to do with my life, who I want to be.  I'm thinking of which values I want to live by, and whether or not I'm truly living that way.  And if I'm not doing what I really want to do, why not?

I wish my friend peace. 

This Business of Living

I've been thinking about this topic for some time now. There have been a handful of recent losses in some of the blogs I read (like Julieanne's) and my deepest sympathies to those families. Loss, even for someone who was in decline, still takes a toll on the person and their loved ones. The issues that arise are very real, and very difficult emotionally to navigate, even for the strongest people.

My husband's grandmother passed away some years ago. She would go to Mass every day -to say she was very Roman Catholic is an understatement. Her faith was a pillar of her life. For three to five years before she died, she had become completely senile. She didn't recognize her own children and grandchildren. It was not Alzheimer's, in fact, but a series of small strokes.

At her funeral, the priest said that we don't get to decide when someone goes.

At the time, I didn't find that comforting. In fact, I was deeply suspicious of what he said. I thought it was some sort of Catholic propaganda against euthanasia.

Now, some years later, I'm not so sure. In fact, I think it was an incredibly wise statement.

Death is not convenient. And - it takes some young and vibrant from us - just as easily as not taking someone who is long past being able to contribute as they once were. People who can no longer care for themselves. People who can't recognize their own children and grandchildren. People who are in tremendous daily pain. And death takes those that never had a chance to see their grandchildren, great grandchildren. People where everyone is left questioning why such a tragedy could happen - why they were taken so young.

My mother in law says that death is not the worst thing in the world. And, the older I get, the more I see enormous truth in that statement. Whether or not you believe in an afterlife - there is some suffering that no one deserves. That no one wants to see.

But sometimes we don't get a choice.

This sounds arrogant, as if any of us knows when someone has declined. When it would be better or easier for them to be out of pain.

And I don't mean to be insensitive, these are some of the most difficult questions a person or family can face. These are not cut and dry questions or answers. What works from one family and person may be something totally different than for another family.

And there are so many types of illnesses, conditions, situations - maybe one family decides to try chemo. Another chooses not to. One family tries to keep a loved one at home, another chooses an assisted living facility. And both choices are okay given the situation.

I knew all this before my grandfather in law started to decline, of course, but it's very different when you watch it happening first hand.

I just now understand what the priest meant - these things are not convenient or easy.