If there's one thing that Mom and I have learned over the past few months, it's that people can be really funny about death. I'm not mentioning this to make light of anyone's feelings or to say that we haven't had our weird moments, because we have. But for us, at least, it's been more like a "benture".
When we were younger, I would look at mom, usually on a boring day, and say, "Hey mom. Wanna go on a benture?" and she would respond, "Sure!" and off we would go, usually on a road trip to some not-too-far-off small Kansas town where neither of us had been before. Most of these trips would end up just being a drive in the country, no big discovery. Sometimes we would hit tourist traps like the Indian Burial Ground that used to be out near Salina, or the Old Abilene Town. Sometimes we would end up shopping. Usually we would get a coke, or if we got hungry, stop somewhere new to eat. In Spokane, most of our "bentures" would exist of trying out new places to eat. Nowadays, our bentures are all but non-existent. Road trips are difficult as she is too debilitated to walk very far or sit up in the car for long trips unless she's having a good day, and there is always the math on the oxygen to consider. We still make road trips home to JC where I grew up to visit my best friends and my God daughters, and we have the routine down pretty well for that even though it has to wait until she is clearly on an upswing of good days. But all spontaneity has pretty much flown out the window and down the lane.
Our new benture is planning her funeral. I'm not sure how to break this to you, but we both find it an odd combination of comforting and relaxing to work out these details. It was stressful (honestly just a bit) at first, but it quickly got to be more like planning a party. Some people think it's morbid and don't want to discuss it. Some people freak out and panic and think it's like, you know, tomorrow (it's not). Which leads me back to my original thought.
Mom has been a bit stuck lately (as she will get on some small ideas from time to time) on the concept of prognosis. She knows she's not supposed to get better (although the doctors have been impressed with her condition lately). She knows that the COPD is eventually going to kill her, and that the process by which this will happen is chronic respiriatory failure. We have discussed the end of her life at length because we had to execute a DNR order for her. But sometimes she forgets the details and wants to go over it again. Sometimes she'll say, "So, no one has mentioned a time limit or anything . . . " and I have to remind her that like the woman in the cancer center commercials, she has no expiration date stamped on the bottom of her foot. Her illness is cyclic, with ups and downs -- the ups being mostly healthy days and the downs being days when she has infection in her respiratory tract, which usually also negatively affects her mental status, making a hard day for both of us. Typically, recently, we've been having about 3-4 weeks of infection to 1 week of health. Some infections are worse than others. Her current one is mild and her mental symptoms are likewise pretty mild. The infection she had in December nearly killed her because it triggered a low sodium episode. So all things considered, it's a crapshoot. She could go anywhere from next week to ten years, although I believe the doctors think she's unlikely to last that long. The bottom line is there is no bottom line -- no one really knows when. Is it any wonder we've become practical? I'm trying to apply the same good attitude that we fostered toward planning her funeral to helping her plan her will. She wants to leave everything up to me and I want to give everything away now. We will meet somewhere in the middle, as we usually do.
We have taken care of our business with each other and have no unfinished business. This is odd, I know. Most people never get that. But we know we love each other and that makes it easier to have calm discussions about things. Plus, we've had lots of practice dealing with very difficult experiences, so that helps. I try not to let her see my grief anymore than absolutely necessary because I don't want her worrying about me anymore than she already does (almost constantly). She tries not to be a burden on me and I have to remind her that that's what I'm here for. We manage quite nicely considering our circumstances. The hysteria has passed for the most part. For now.
When we were younger, I would look at mom, usually on a boring day, and say, "Hey mom. Wanna go on a benture?" and she would respond, "Sure!" and off we would go, usually on a road trip to some not-too-far-off small Kansas town where neither of us had been before. Most of these trips would end up just being a drive in the country, no big discovery. Sometimes we would hit tourist traps like the Indian Burial Ground that used to be out near Salina, or the Old Abilene Town. Sometimes we would end up shopping. Usually we would get a coke, or if we got hungry, stop somewhere new to eat. In Spokane, most of our "bentures" would exist of trying out new places to eat. Nowadays, our bentures are all but non-existent. Road trips are difficult as she is too debilitated to walk very far or sit up in the car for long trips unless she's having a good day, and there is always the math on the oxygen to consider. We still make road trips home to JC where I grew up to visit my best friends and my God daughters, and we have the routine down pretty well for that even though it has to wait until she is clearly on an upswing of good days. But all spontaneity has pretty much flown out the window and down the lane.
Our new benture is planning her funeral. I'm not sure how to break this to you, but we both find it an odd combination of comforting and relaxing to work out these details. It was stressful (honestly just a bit) at first, but it quickly got to be more like planning a party. Some people think it's morbid and don't want to discuss it. Some people freak out and panic and think it's like, you know, tomorrow (it's not). Which leads me back to my original thought.
Mom has been a bit stuck lately (as she will get on some small ideas from time to time) on the concept of prognosis. She knows she's not supposed to get better (although the doctors have been impressed with her condition lately). She knows that the COPD is eventually going to kill her, and that the process by which this will happen is chronic respiriatory failure. We have discussed the end of her life at length because we had to execute a DNR order for her. But sometimes she forgets the details and wants to go over it again. Sometimes she'll say, "So, no one has mentioned a time limit or anything . . . " and I have to remind her that like the woman in the cancer center commercials, she has no expiration date stamped on the bottom of her foot. Her illness is cyclic, with ups and downs -- the ups being mostly healthy days and the downs being days when she has infection in her respiratory tract, which usually also negatively affects her mental status, making a hard day for both of us. Typically, recently, we've been having about 3-4 weeks of infection to 1 week of health. Some infections are worse than others. Her current one is mild and her mental symptoms are likewise pretty mild. The infection she had in December nearly killed her because it triggered a low sodium episode. So all things considered, it's a crapshoot. She could go anywhere from next week to ten years, although I believe the doctors think she's unlikely to last that long. The bottom line is there is no bottom line -- no one really knows when. Is it any wonder we've become practical? I'm trying to apply the same good attitude that we fostered toward planning her funeral to helping her plan her will. She wants to leave everything up to me and I want to give everything away now. We will meet somewhere in the middle, as we usually do.
We have taken care of our business with each other and have no unfinished business. This is odd, I know. Most people never get that. But we know we love each other and that makes it easier to have calm discussions about things. Plus, we've had lots of practice dealing with very difficult experiences, so that helps. I try not to let her see my grief anymore than absolutely necessary because I don't want her worrying about me anymore than she already does (almost constantly). She tries not to be a burden on me and I have to remind her that that's what I'm here for. We manage quite nicely considering our circumstances. The hysteria has passed for the most part. For now.
Oh Amy. Thank you for being brave enough to share your thoughts and for being tender-hearted and sensitive to your mom's situation. You are strong. You always had to be, it seems. I understand. May God in heaven bless you, keep you and comfort you in all the days ahead. May the road be as smooth as possible on this benture. Love to you and Nan.
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