Shattered Happiness – Part 2

Posted on by Sue

After receiving the devastating diagnosis while at Princess Margaret hospital in Toronto we headed home.  I cried all the way home from Toronto and my husband just kept holding my hand reassuring me that I’d be ok.  That I’d be okay … Not him.  He was so calm, so loving and so supportive.  I asked him .. What do you want to do?  Is there anything we can do now that you have always wished to do?  He just smiled that lopsided smile of his at me and said we have always done whatever we wanted to do … He was quite happy just to spend time with me.

We got home and the family doctor called saying he received the orders from Princess Margaret that a stent needed to be inserted as soon as possible.  He told us the specialist would contact us the next day and it would likely be done on the Friday. We waited.

On Friday morning I contact the specialist’s office since we had not heard from them.  The nurse said the specialist was aware of the orders but wanted to see us the following Wednesday and he would decide when the stent would be insterted.  I called Princess Margaret and they told us to go to the hospital’s emergency ward and tell them to call Princess Margaret directly for orders.  We went in at 10:30 and sat there until 5 pm.  At that time a doctor came in and told us he was unable to get the operating room to do the procedure due to budget cuts.  We had to return on Monday at 6 am but he’d do it then.

We went back on Monday and sat there.  At 11 am the Doctor came out and told us he had been bumped by that specialist and that we were to return the next day.  At this point John was turning yellow.

Please remember the clock is counting down and these were our “quality of life” days.

We returned at 6 am on Tuesday morning and the specialist himself announced he’d be doing the procedure.  He failed.  He told us that they would try again in the afternoon going in through John’s back.  That failed.  Apparently the tumour had grown and was squeezing the gall bladder making it difficult to insert the stent.

They had to admit John that day into the hospital. Neither of us were happy about this as it was taking time away from us being together.  Plus it was tax season.  John desperately wanted to have one last tax season.  He loved his clients and wanted to be able to see all of them during this time.

Wednesday the specialist tried again and failed.  He reassured me it would be done the next day because he had “slashed” at the tumour loosening its grip on the organs.  John was getting yellower by the moment (I told him he started to look like a Simpson’s character) and he was tired.

On Thursday the doctor we saw in emergency originally successfully inserted the stent.  If only he had been allowed to do the procedure a week earlier!

The specialist released John from the hospital on the Friday morning saying everything was good.

John was feeling good and talked to several clients on the Friday.  His only complaint was he felt a tightness across his belly.  Other than that he was his old self.

The next day we worked in our basement office together on tax returns.  In the afternoon the Blue Jays were playing so he went upstairs to watch the game while I continued to work.  About an hour later I heard a thud.  I thought he was trying to get my attention so that I’d come upstairs to see a particular play between the teams.  When I got upstairs he was on the floor, feverish and unconscious.  I yelled for my son and called 911.

The ambulance came and within minutes the paramedic announced John was in septic shock.  They rushed him to the hospital and his temperature was over 105 degrees.  When we got there they put us in a little room and left us there.  They gave me a cloth and a bucket of water to keep him cool with (there was an ice machine just outside the room) and then basically ignored us for 24 hours while they grew the culture from his blood.

John was so ill.  He was burning to touch and his sugar levels were out of control.  I had to go out every four hours to ask them to check his blood.  I didn’t want to leave him for a minute since I was afraid he’d fall or something.  My son would come to relieve me so I could get some food for us or just to let me stretch my legs.  I was exhausted but refused to leave John.

At one point John opened his eyes and looked at me and asked why I was there.  I replied because he was ill.  He said, “go home, there are tax returns to do.”  I said no because I wanted to be with him.  He became quite stern, looking at me and saying, “honey, this is what we do … Now go do it … We serve our clients”.  So I packed up, went over to the hospital cafeteria and got a tea and came back.  When I walked back in the room I told him I’d just returned from working on the tax returns and was finished.  He believed me.

Finally a doctor came in and gave us the results.  Apparently … Big announcement here … John was in SEPTIC SHOCK.  Really?  Everyone knew that by the point.  Then the doctor starts mumbling and was quite uneasy as he asked questions like, well .. “If we found you on the floor .. What would you like us to do?”, “if your heart stops, what should we do?” We were so confused and said this is just an infection, please treat it and he ran out saying he’d get another doctor to talk to us.  He kept mumbling asking us for our yellow file. We had no idea what the yellow file was all about.

The doctor he sent in was from the infectious control unit.  He first apologized for the infection saying we should never have been sent home without antibiotics.  He stated the hospital tries to stay clean but it is a hotbed of germs and disease and they can’t stay on top of it.  He told us over and over again that John should never have been sent home after gut surgery without antibiotics.  He explained to us that for the rest of John’s expected life he would need to be hooked up to an IV with antibiotics in it.  So much for quality of life.

At this point it was Sunday night and they admitted John to the cancer wing until they could get the infection under control. He got settled into the room and they were bombarding him with antibiotics so I went home to work on tax returns.

For the next four days John fought the infection.  The ass-monkey of a specialist had the nerve to come to the room on Monday and tell John that he was fine and was to be released Tuesday.  I flipped out when I heard this as John was not well and I knew I couldn’t handle him at home yet.  He was confused and weak.  I went to see John’s nurse and he explained to me that specialist had no standing on that floor (since it was dedicated to cancer patients only) and that John would not be released for several days.

By this time the word was out about John’s illness.  There was a constant stream of visitors during the daytime and phone calls at the house inquiring about him.  Clients showed up at the house sobbing, telling me how John saved them in one way or another.  John was a quiet man, his clients would talk and talk and he would just listen and then at the end he would offer some sage advice.  John would find a way out of the mess for the client and all would end up ok.

I was exhausted.  I was at the hospital as much as possible and then working on the tax returns during the rest of the time.  In the evening I would go to the hospital and say “shove a bum chum” and John would move over and hold me while I cried or napped.  He would just look at me and tell me everything would be ok.  He said I was strong, said I’d be alright and said he would always be with me.

John was not a religious man.  He believed in a higher place but not in organized religion.  We were both raised Roman Catholics but the church didn’t accept us as we were both married previously.  As a result churches were not part of our lives.  But he did believe there was something after death.  He accepted his death.  He felt no anger towards the doctors who misdiagnosed him, felt no anger towards the hospital and never once had the “why me” time.  He just accepted the illness like he did everything else in his life.

One day while I was recovering in the hospital from the septic shock my daughter Amanda and I were sitting in his hospital room talking to him.  He kept looking just past us and I asked him what he was looking at.  He smiled at us and said “your dad is here” and he just kept talking to us.  Amanda started to cry but John just kept talking like nothing was out of the ordinary.  Then suddenly he said, “oh your dad is leaving for now .. He is going down that lane”.  I knew then John was not afraid to die.

On Friday, April 22nd the hospital released John and we drove home.  He was quiet in the car.  I asked him what he was thinking and he said he knew it was the last time he’d be in the car.  He wanted to take it all in.  I squeezed his hand and through my tears drove the rest of the way home.

 

 

Shattered Happiness – Part One

Posted on by Sue

I haven’t written in three years.  In those years I truly found my happiness.  Over the past three years my husband John and I left a toxic business relationship (earlier I mentioned my husband sold his accounting practice to another chartered professional accountant but we remained to help her transition into the business) and we concentrated on ourselves and our family.  My husband continued to work part time (because he truly loved what he did) and I took on other projects.  John and I began to enjoy our “semi-retirement”.  We travelled to Hawaii in October 2013 and were there when our daughter Amanda became engaged to her “sun and stars” Brandon.  Over the next 10 months I planned a beach wedding in Florida for the happy couple.  John and I started spending more time together at our condo in Florida, sprinkling in cruises, a trip to the Dominician Repulic and one to Cuba and just enjoying each other.  Another daughter, Laura, was married September 2015.  We were happier than we have ever been together.  Then things changed.

In September my husband had surgery to remove his ascending colon.  In a colonoscopy they discovered a flat polyp that the specialist felt should be removed.  The kids always were amazed at my husband’s healing powers but this time was different.  He didn’t bounce back quite as fast.  We saw the surgeon late October and he suggested we go south and get some sunshine.  We took a cruise to Grand Caymen and Cozumel but mostly sat on our balcony on the ship and enjoyed the sunshine.  But John still wasn’t recovering.

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We came back home and told the surgeon that John continued to lose weight and was passing blood in his stool.  We were assured this is normal after bowel surgery.

We came home for Christmas but everyone could see John was still ill.  He was cold all the time and tired.  Not like him at all.  We saw the doctor again who assured us John would be fine.  We headed back down to Florida for more rest and relaxation hoping that John would get stronger.

By New Years John was weak and in pain.  He had lost about 25 pounds since his surgery.  On January 10 John had to fly back home.  He was near death from loss of blood.  The incision where his bowels had been rejoined was leaking at he had lost almost half the blood in his body.  No wonder he was weak.  They operated on January 11, 2016.  We thought the worst was over.

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John started to get stronger.  The surgeon mentioned there was a “shadow” on the pancreas and felt John also suffered from pancreatitis.  We asked .. “Is it cancer?” But we were assured it was just the leaking intestine and pancreatitis.  After 6 weeks John and I went back to Florida with the surgeons blessing.  We felt more sun and seafood would put the meat back on my hubby and he would get strong again.

John had to fly home again in March to work on some client files.  I stayed behind because my grandson and his dad were visiting me in Florida.  John was still complaining about pain in his belly but the doctors felt it was a combination of things but no one considered cancer.

John had to have a CT Scan done of his kidneys because he routinely passed kidney stones. While having the scan he asked the technician to go higher because his pain was across the top of his belly.  She complied.  A few days later our family doctor phoned us saying he had booked an enhanced CT Scan on March 16.  I flew home to be with John for the test.

John was still passing blood so the surgeon had scheduled another colonoscopy on March 21.  While John was having this procedure our family doctor called to tell me he believed John had pancreatic cancer.

On April 7 we went to Princess Margaret Hospital in Toronto only to be told John’s cancer was too far spread to do anything.  All they could do is recommend palliative care.  John had a couple of months at the most.  They recommended a stent be inserted in John’s gallbladder to prevent jaundice and told us they were sorry but nothing else could be done. We came home devastated.  OK .. I amend that.  I was devastated.  John was accepting.  I will write more about that later.

It took a week to have the stent inserted.  That is going to be another post that deals with his last months of life.

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True Blue

Posted on by Sue

A friend of mine died a couple of weeks ago. I just found out.

When I say “friend” he certainly was not a friend in a traditional sense.

We had not spoken in over 10 years and other than the odd email we barely communicated. However, he was part of the tapestry of my life and I will miss him.

I met Kalk online back in 1995.  Wow … that was a long time ago.  I was going through a difficult time in my life and needed a friend.  The internet was blossoming, MSN was introduced in August with Windows 95. Suddenly we were all able to chat instantly with people across the world, or in our backyard.  Some went for baseball chats or sex chats.  Me … I wanted distance from my life so I hung out in a chat room named “the billabong”.  The majority of the people in the room were from Australia.  I loved the culture, the tales, the warmth of the people.  I felt like I was in a special place … accepted and that I was special.  I felt like I belonged somewhere and I needed that at that point in my life.

After almost a year of chatting online I decided to go visit my new friends in Australia.  David was the main friend I was visiting.  After a few days adjusting to the time difference the two of us left Warrnambool and travelled through the Outback.  It was the adventure of a lifetime.  I saw  things I could never imagine, from crocodiles attacking wild horses in Kakadu, emus hitting the windows of the ute trying to get at me, kangaroos bounding across the open outback and touching the amazing spiritual centre, Uluru.

I took this adventure with my new friend David.  He was a big man, rugged, rough and bearlike. He was twice my size.  He acted like my bodyguard all through the dangerous things we did in the outback.  He loved everything Aussie … living in the wrong time.  He should have been born 50 years earlier.  He loved the brush, he loved his sunburnt country.  I am happy that I took this trip with him from Warrnambool to Darwin and back again.  He had never been outside Australia, actually had never been to the outback either.  The outback was where he belonged though … he was part of that hard, dry landscape.  He would have lived a longer, happier life there.

In February 1998 I went back to Australia to visit David and brought my children.  He was receiving a medal for 25 years of service with SES (State Emergency Service) and was the proudest moment of his life.  We toured all over Victoria, camping in the Grampians, spending time in Melbourne (my daughter went toured the morgue), we saw the Melbourne jail and visited so many friends.

My daughter went back and spent 6 weeks with David when she was a teenager and I went back for the last time early in 2000.  When I returned from this trip the relationship was strained and we only ever communicated again by the odd email.  He had gone back to college and suddenly became difficult to talk with … he felt he knew everything. Over the next twelve years we exchanged a few emails, usually when he was in crisis.  He was letting his health go … he had always been a big man but now he stopped exercising and became huge.  He started smoking again and ended up in the hospital several times with various problems.  He got good marks at college (he studied social work) but failed the placement section two years in a row.  He would not listen to those in authority.  As the student he felt he knew more than the people already in the profession.  He became bitter and angry.  Most of his real life friends dropped away while he accumulated more and more online friends.  He had a huge falling out with his brother (they were estranged most of their lives but had their final falling out a few years ago).  He spent all of his time online dispensing his “worldly” advice to others.  I had to ask him to stop writing me because all he did was lecture me on my life choices.  I removed him from my Facebook account because I didn’t want him to comment on my life.  I am happy with my life.

He wrote me in 2010 when my father passed away.  It was a beautiful letter, telling me about his father and his memories.  It was like hearing from the old David.  I was deeply depressed at the time (2010 was a bad year for me) so I just sent him a one line note saying I thanked him for his thoughts.  Other than a few mass emailed jokes I didn’t hear from him again until late December 2012.  He wrote me that he had spent two weeks in the hospital after breaking his foot and that he was sorry he didn’t send me a birthday note (he didn’t send one December 2011).  He told me he’d be following the doctors orders because he was worried about losing his foot but we knew he wouldn’t bother.  I never responded to his email.

He died January 14.

For a moment I felt guilty about not taking the time to respond to him.  I should have realized he was scared but I put it out of my head.  He was no longer the man I once knew.  He hadn’t been employed for over a dozen years.  He rejoined the labour party but really just expected the government to take care of him while he sat on his computer.  He used his health as an excuse.  Yes, in the beginning he was diabetic but he allowed himself to develop many more problems just because he could not push himself away from his online friends.

I will miss my old friend David.  But he has been dead for quite some time to me.  I mourn him today.

The Circle of Life

Posted on by Sue

LETTER FROM A MOTHER TO A DAUGHTER:

“My dear girl, the day you see I’m getting old, I ask you to please be patient, but most of all, try to understand what I’m going through.

If when we talk, I repeat the same thing a thousand times, don’t interrupt to say: “You said the same thing a minute ago”… Just listen, please. Try to remember the times when you were little and I would read the same story night after night until you would fall asleep.

When I don’t want to take a bath, don’t be mad and don’t embarrass me. Remember when I had to run after you making excuses and trying to get you to take a shower when you were just a girl?

When you see how ignorant I am when it comes to new technology, give me the time to learn and don’t look at me that way… remember, honey, I patiently taught you how to do many things like eating appropriately, getting dressed, combing your hair and dealing with life’s issues every day… the day you see I’m getting old, I ask you to please be patient, but most of all, try to understand what I’m going through.

If I occasionally lose track of what we’re talking about, give me the time to remember, and if I can’t, don’t be nervous, impatient or arrogant. Just know in your heart that the most important thing for me is to be with you.

And when my old, tired legs don’t let me move as quickly as before, give me your hand the same way that I offered mine to you when you first walked.

When those days come, don’t feel sad… just be with me, and understand me while I get to the end of my life with love.

I’ll cherish and thank you for the gift of time and joy we shared. With a big smile and the huge love I’ve always had for you, I just want to say, I love you… my darling daughter.”

– Unknown

I read this on Facebook today and cried.  I see myself in this scenario .. in my relationship with my own mother and I pray this won’t happen to me as I age.  Now my mother is past help .. she suffers from Alzheimer’s and rarely recognizes me.  I do know I am guilty of every point listed above and, for that, I am sorry.  I do try, I try so hard to be patient with her over the last 20 years but it was difficult at times.  Now I go and sit with her and she is grateful for the company but really doesn’t realize I’m her daughter.

I do get confused thinking about this because I have always had this unusual relationship with my mother.  In many ways, I was the mother … even though she had a totally different relationship with my sister and my brother.  My mother would lay out all her problems to me to solve rather than be there to support me.  I can’t remember a time when I felt that she took care of me.  My father cared for me when I was small.  To my mother I was always the anchor in her relationship with my dad.  She married him in order to have her other two children supported and she looked at my dad as her meal ticket.  Eventually I became the negotiator in her relationship with my father, I took care of her instead of the other way around.  So yes, there were times I was impatient, arrogant, bitchy and short with her.

My mother has contributed to the person I am.  I am strong and able to function on my own.  I don’t “need” people to solve my problems.  I don’t share my worries or feelings easily.  I will downplay any health concerns because I want to handle it on my own.  I don’t like to appear weak to my family.  I am the mother of my family.  I need to be strong for my children and they need to know they can count on me to be there for them.  My husband and children are my world.  I would do anything for them and would be devastated if they felt I was a burden to them.

Recently my husband’s ex-wife’s husband died.  (Whew … what a sentence.)  He died after suffering from cancer for a year.  He had always had health issues and personal issues.  He was a recovering alcoholic.  Even before his cancer they would pressure my two stepdaughters to take care of things for them.  Now that he has passed away their mother has gone into this “take care of me” mode.  Suddenly she can’t manage her money, take care of her home or her health.  She has now talked her youngest daughter into  selling her condo and buying a house together.  On the surface this looks like a good idea but neither one has equity in their current homes and are taking on a $300,000 mortgage.  The mother is over 60 … how many more years does she expect to work?  She doesn’t have any RRSP’s or savings to draw on once she retires, all she has is a small insurance settlement that won’t last long.  She wants someone to take care of her and she is looking at her daughters as her way out of the responsibility of life.

I don’t want pity from anyone.  I just want to be loved.  There may be a time that my husband and I move in with one of our children but we will want a separate area and I will remain independent.  We would sell our house and put towards the new home (whomever I live with will get part of the inheritance early).   It would be a win win situation.  The six months a year I live there I would help my children any way I could.  I would be an asset and not a liability to my children.  If neither of my children aren’t interested in that arrangement then we will move to a senior’s apartment but I would hate wasting all that money on rent.  I would rather the money end up helping my children in their lives.

I am terrified that I will end up like my mother.  I don’t want to live in a nursing home, alone and confused.  I totally agree with my father, the day I can’t drive anymore is the day I want to die.    I want to be strong, eccentric and loving until the day I die.  I want to be me.

Spirits, Ghosts & The Afterlife .. Continued

Posted on by Sue

The other night my father phoned me. Yes … I know he is dead but he phoned me.

I was sleeping and I heard the phone ring. I reached up … answered it and I knew it was him. Usually when the phone rings at night I panic thinking it is bad news but this time a feeling of peace flooded me.

He spoke, not really formed words, but I heard him say to me that he loved me, was proud of me and that I made him proud.

He hung up.

Since that moment I have stopped feeling the guilt that I carried over the last two years. I know he understood that I loved him and had tried to do my best. I feel my heart is lighter and I am no longer stuck in the grief that I let him down.

I went to his grave the next day, put Christmas flowers on it and a poppy. He always wore a poppy in November. I felt a warm breeze while I stood there looking at his grave.

This also made me realize that there is something beyond death. I’m not really a religious person but a spiritual one. I know there is more than just this space … this place and that someday I will be there watching over my loved ones.

I love you dad. I will always love you … always miss you but the time of grieving is over. Keep watching over me and our family.

As you always said to me, life is too short … go enjoy it. That is exactly what I plan to do.

Bucket List

Posted on by Sue

I have decided this is a good time to start my bucket lost. I have already crossed off many things on my bucket list (such as touching Uluru) so this is for moving forward. This post will constantly evolve and be updated. Once I complete an item I will bold it and continue working on my list until I die.

My list is (in no particular order):

Learn a new language. For some reason I have always wanted to learn Italian or Spanish. I would like to be able to have a casual conversation in another language.

I would like to take cooking lessons, either in person or online, so I can make extraordinary meals.

I want to start a cookbook blog of favourite family recipes.

I would like to learn how to play chess. This will help my brain as I age.

I want to learn CPR.

I would like to see a real iceberg.

I would like to visit the British Museum.

I would like to go to the Dali Museum.

I have ALWAYS wanted to write a book.

I would like to fly a kite.

I would like to take art lessons. I would like to know how to paint or draw.

I want to take photography lessons and learn how to use Photoshop.

I would like to read 25 of the top novels of all time.

I want to see a live volcano.

I want to visit Key West.

I would like to go to Holland and see where my father was born.

I want to be proud of something I create in fused glass.

I would like to drive through Nappa Valley.

I would like to visit New Orleans.

I would like to visit England, see the historical sites like castles, Stonehenge etc.

I would like to take a bus tour of Italy.

I would like to photograph the Loch Ness monster.

I would like to learn how to knit.

I want to finish Adam’s Christmas stocking.

Spirits, Ghosts and the Afterlife … Oh My!

Posted on by Sue

 

 

My head tells me there is no such thing as ghosts but experience tells me otherwise.  

When I was a little girl my maternal grandmother lived with my family.  She was an unusual woman.  She read tarot cards, studied Edgar Cayce and told me about the afterlife.  She was not an affectionate woman, in fact she had little time for me other read my cards daily.  Recently I found a letter she wrote to my mother when I was a teenager and I was quite surprised that she said she loved me in the letter.  She had a stroke and spent some time in a nursing home.  She didn’t know who anyone was but me.  She would beg me to take her away and it broke my heart.  

Her oldest daughter, my Aunt Delores, was another unusual woman.  She was a practicing Druid.  I spent many Saturday afternoons with her learning how to spin.  She taught me to card the wool, dye it and spin it and my mother would weave the wool.  My aunt would tell me how to respect nature, the spirits and to listen to my heart.  My aunt was larger than life and it is said she haunts her old home.  

I mention my grandmother (who I was named after) and my aunt as a bit of background to my story.  They both believed there was nothing to fear from spirits as long as you were strong enough inside.  

When my children were young (my daughter was 9 and my son was 5) we were in a hotel near an airport.  Early the next morning we were to fly out for a vacation to Florida.  We all were sleeping and I woke to the most evil sounds.  I could feel the evil in the room.  My children were in the next bed sound asleep.  This voice said to me he was going to take my children and I was powerless to do anything about it.  I was unable to move … I felt frozen in place.  Then I just said to myself that no one, no THING would harm my children if I could help it and I forced myself to turn over to face it.  The moment I turned to face my children I could feel the presence begin to slip away and there was this flash of light in the room.  I sat up and sparks began to fly out of my fingertips.  I woke my husband up and the sparks would travel from my fingers to the edges of the bed.  My children woke up and saw this phenomenon.   What was this?  I have no idea.  I have never felt that fear again, have never felt that evil again.  It was like I faced my challenge and won.  

That has not been the extent of feeling a presence near me.  One time I was in an elevator at the nursing home where my parents live.  I had an upsetting visit with my mother.  She suffers from dementia and gave me a very hard time that day.  I was leaving and alone in the elevator.  I started to cry (not sobbing just tearing up) and I very clearly heard my Aunt Betty say to me “You are her angel”.  I heard it as clear as anything, recognized my aunt’s voice and felt her with me.  My aunt Betty and my mother were best friends. My aunt died a few years ago …. just at the onset of my mother’s dementia.  My aunt gave me strength that day that I still feel today.

My husband and I bought a building for our business a few years back.  It was a very stressful time for me.  There were times I was ready to give up on life because I was so worn out from work, the children and the renovations to this old building.  One day, I was sitting in my office and I could smell bacon and eggs cooking.  Then I could smell fresh coffee.  It was just like when I was a little girl and my grandmother was downstairs making her breakfast.  I could feel my grandmother there watching over me.  It came to the point where I would say good morning to her when I got to work and goodbye when I left.  Then one day, I took a nap in my office.  While napping I dreamt she came to me and said I was fine and she could leave.  I never felt her again.

There is more but that is for another time.