I have tried several times since Ed's birthday to write again in the blog. Each time I gave up because I didn't want to depress anybody who might read it. I wish I could say I'm doing well, but too often it doesn't feel that way. I chat with the neighbors and smile, but as soon as I step back inside the house--and sometimes before I make it in the door--the grief becomes overwhelming again. I went to the Getcy family reunion last weekend (my mother's side) and managed not to break down in front of anybody except in the wee hours of the morning in the hotel room Melissa and I shared. Ed didn't go with me to the last Getcy reunion 6 years ago because he had his own Runk family reunion to attend in Ohio on the same day. As I looked around at everybody, I realized that some of my relatives Ed never met in person, yet we looked at pictures together and talked about everyone in both our families so much that we both felt like we knew them all. Gathering with family was his favorite thing to do--even beyond going to an Ohio State football game, and that's saying a lot! So I went to the reunion just as we had planned to go, and I was glad to see everybody. Since getting back, though, I don't have as good a rein on my emotions as I did the past few weeks. I don't like to admit it because I know friends and family who read this will end up worrying about me, and I don't want to cause that worry.
I was just interrupted by the doorbell, and frankly I wasn't going to answer because I know my eyes must look awful right now. But I did force myself to answer, and I just received a delivery of the most beautiful rose bouquet from Tim and Becky Sheehan, cousins of mine (on my Dad's side) in Elmhurst, IL--a "thinking of you" bouquet. While I wrote the paragraph above, I could barely manage to write through my tears and sobs, but these flowers and the note have helped to quiet me, so maybe there's hope for a better rest of the day.
Each day I plan to take care of at least one and sometimes two or three major tasks related to our estate and finances, etc., but every time I think I'm making some headway, something more piles on. For a break each day, I try to do some outdoor activity to take care of the lawn and gardens, but sometimes that just makes me miss Ed even more because those are things we always did together. Yesterday, I found out that an acquaintance, the wife of one of Ed's Household work friends, died on May 21. This friend is a little farther along in handling the grief and loss than I am, so having him say the grief is a little more tolerable for him now is encouraging for me, but having to send him condolences in response to his sending me condolences just does not seem fair.
I guess there is some good news to report: Finally, after all these weeks of going to the chiropractor frequently, my back is in pretty good shape and the residual numbness I have had especially in my left leg has subsided to the point where I can now go back on my once-a-month-checkup chiropractic routine. Also, I made plane reservations to go to Cedar Rapids August 9-13 to attend Melissa's baby shower on August 11, with plans to also paint the baby's room while I'm there. So that is something to look forward to. At least I am able to end this entry on a more positive note and without tears.
Friday, July 20, 2007
Tuesday, July 3, 2007
July 3, Ed's birthday
Today is Ed's 72nd birthday. From the very first day I met him, no one ever guessed his real age; everyone always thought he was younger, probably because of his zest for life, his ready smile, and the bounce in his step. Even when we had his 70th birthday party/family reunion two years ago, people couldn't believe he was really 70. Ed always said the Independence Day fireworks that were held on July 3 were really a celebration of his birthday. So, fittingly, I'm going with Debbie and Tom tonight to see Red, White, and Boom, the Columbus fireworks. We all went together last year to see them. In fact, I always suspected that Ed put off buying his new Buick until July 6 last year so that we still had the Buick that could hold six people, so that he and I and Debbie, Tom, Tommy and Annie could all go to the fireworks in one car.
I remember Ed bringing me and Melissa to Columbus for the July 4 holiday back in 1985. That was the first time we saw fireworks here. He really wanted to impress me, so he took us to the Upper Arlington 4th of July parade--with Woody Hayes as the Parade Marshall! It became a standing joke with us that I was supposed to be really impressed by seeing Woody in person, except I wasn't really. Attending that parade whenever we could was important to Ed, a tie back to happy times with his kids, some of whom now take their own kids (and grandkids in Judi's case) to the parade each year. I don't think I can handle going to that parade tomorrow, however.
I have had a rough time, almost non-stop, since Friday of last week. Everything little thing seems to trigger tears. I thought maybe writing in the blog again would help. I don't really want to spend Ed's whole birthday crying. I went to the cemetery this morning and left Ed's favorite flower, red roses, and one of the small flags he used to put in our garden on national holidays. His veteran's grave marker won't come for several weeks yet, so I thought this was a way to commemorate his birthday and the holiday he loved and mark his gravesite the way other veterans' sites are marked. I also spent some time this morning looking at old pictures. I don't know what else I can do to feel close to him, but I feel like I have to keep trying. I guess I've moved to that next stage where the grief is all-consuming.
To anyone who is reading this, I apologize if this seems overly sentimental or excessive in any way. Hospice sent me some materials about how to live with grief, and I'm trying to follow the suggestions. The first is acknowledging that you don't get over grief but learn to live with it. Writing this journal is supposed to be helpful, as is being with family and friends. The crying they say is a normal reaction and a healthy emotional release. The loneliness and depression have become more intense, just as the booklet said it would. They warn against using alcohol or drugs to cope because they tend to mask or prolong the grieving process; I never did fill the prescriptions my doctor gave me after Ed's diagnosis and I still won't. Talking with grief counselors is another suggestion. The next grief support group sponsored by Hospice starts August 1 and goes into mid-September, and I will probably participate. There are more suggestions that I'm not quite ready for yet. I am trying to be helpful, however, to my next-door neighbor. Butch has been battling pancreatic cancer for years, and he has finally made the decision not to have chemo anymore as his body has been so worn down by his past years of treatments, complicated by the fact that having his pancreas removed 6 years ago made him a diabetic. He and Sherry arranged for the same hospice group that Ed and I had. I am trying to give them the benefit of Ed's and my experience and trying to be supportive of them. While at first I thought this would only make me sadder, instead I do feel like I'm returning the favor of Butch's support of Ed from Ed's diagnosis on. I think helping Butch and Sherry and their family is what Ed would want me to do.
When I started writing this, I didn't think I'd have so much to say. I guess it is therapeutic to write. I just noticed that the blog site automatically adds a signature of "Posted by Ed/Joan" at the end of the message. I can't see where to change this to just my name, but maybe having Ed's name still on the blog is OK, another way to remember him.
I remember Ed bringing me and Melissa to Columbus for the July 4 holiday back in 1985. That was the first time we saw fireworks here. He really wanted to impress me, so he took us to the Upper Arlington 4th of July parade--with Woody Hayes as the Parade Marshall! It became a standing joke with us that I was supposed to be really impressed by seeing Woody in person, except I wasn't really. Attending that parade whenever we could was important to Ed, a tie back to happy times with his kids, some of whom now take their own kids (and grandkids in Judi's case) to the parade each year. I don't think I can handle going to that parade tomorrow, however.
I have had a rough time, almost non-stop, since Friday of last week. Everything little thing seems to trigger tears. I thought maybe writing in the blog again would help. I don't really want to spend Ed's whole birthday crying. I went to the cemetery this morning and left Ed's favorite flower, red roses, and one of the small flags he used to put in our garden on national holidays. His veteran's grave marker won't come for several weeks yet, so I thought this was a way to commemorate his birthday and the holiday he loved and mark his gravesite the way other veterans' sites are marked. I also spent some time this morning looking at old pictures. I don't know what else I can do to feel close to him, but I feel like I have to keep trying. I guess I've moved to that next stage where the grief is all-consuming.
To anyone who is reading this, I apologize if this seems overly sentimental or excessive in any way. Hospice sent me some materials about how to live with grief, and I'm trying to follow the suggestions. The first is acknowledging that you don't get over grief but learn to live with it. Writing this journal is supposed to be helpful, as is being with family and friends. The crying they say is a normal reaction and a healthy emotional release. The loneliness and depression have become more intense, just as the booklet said it would. They warn against using alcohol or drugs to cope because they tend to mask or prolong the grieving process; I never did fill the prescriptions my doctor gave me after Ed's diagnosis and I still won't. Talking with grief counselors is another suggestion. The next grief support group sponsored by Hospice starts August 1 and goes into mid-September, and I will probably participate. There are more suggestions that I'm not quite ready for yet. I am trying to be helpful, however, to my next-door neighbor. Butch has been battling pancreatic cancer for years, and he has finally made the decision not to have chemo anymore as his body has been so worn down by his past years of treatments, complicated by the fact that having his pancreas removed 6 years ago made him a diabetic. He and Sherry arranged for the same hospice group that Ed and I had. I am trying to give them the benefit of Ed's and my experience and trying to be supportive of them. While at first I thought this would only make me sadder, instead I do feel like I'm returning the favor of Butch's support of Ed from Ed's diagnosis on. I think helping Butch and Sherry and their family is what Ed would want me to do.
When I started writing this, I didn't think I'd have so much to say. I guess it is therapeutic to write. I just noticed that the blog site automatically adds a signature of "Posted by Ed/Joan" at the end of the message. I can't see where to change this to just my name, but maybe having Ed's name still on the blog is OK, another way to remember him.
Friday, June 22, 2007
Tomorrow is one week
It's hard to believe that tomorrow will be one week since Ed died. I'm not sure everyone who would want to know of his death has even found out yet. However, cards are coming each day from all over the country, and the Dispatch.com guest book now includes messages from our Penn State friends who live far and wide. I even had a card and note today from Ed's secretary from probably more than 30 years ago; she said he was the best boss she ever had. Amazing how word does spread.
I started to write my thoughts about the viewing and funeral yesterday, but then I couldn't bring them together. So I'll give it a try now. The guest book at the funeral home has exactly 100 names in it. Ed would have liked the fact that I counted. It's something he would have done. We estimated there were 50 people at the house after the funeral, again estimating a crowd size was something he always did. I had carefully selected the music and readings for the Mass of Christian Burial, and for the most part the priest and choir followed through. The choir did a beautiful meditation, almost a Gregorian chant-like piece, after Communion that I didn't know about, but I appreciated the words and music. One thing I did not understand was the direction Father Brosmer's homily took. It started out fine in praising Ed's life and offering comfort to us, and I understood the ultimate message of encouraging us to do something good in memory of this good man, but when he launched into a litany of sorts of drastic sins and misdeeds that should be corrected, that I found out of place. My sister said maybe he has a standard funeral homily and he only adjusts the opening for each occasion. If that's true, I need to get on the Bereavement Committee at church and forewarn people! (That's an attempt at humor, meager though it is.) I asked my cousin Carole and her husband Ron Lapinsky to bring the gifts up to the altar during Mass. Besides the fact that Ed really enjoyed talking with Ron back in January at my Aunt Lou's funeral and that he knew how much I think of Carole as my big sister, Carole's frequent e-mails were comforting to both of us. I saw their participation at the Mass as a way of thanking them for their support and for traveling to be here. I'm also glad that I named honorary pall bearers. Ed decided he wanted six of his grandsons as pall bearers, and I'm very glad that Josh, Jeremy, Rob, Tommy, Kurt,and Kyle were willing, but I just knew, had we thought of it as we talked about what he wanted, that he would have wanted to show his honor and respect and love for his close friends, too: his life-long friends Larry Clements and Tom Gibbons from the Cincinnati area, and his closest friends from Norwalk, IA, Tom Greteman, Dave Hixenbaugh, Duane Frideres, and Joe Zerfas.
I really like the place at the cemetery that I chose for him, very near the tall flagpole and monument to veterans. Marie (my sister) and I went to the cemetery Thursday--she did not want me going there alone my first time. I was OK there. The gravesite was leveled out already and the flowers were still fresh-looking despite the heat of the day. We were lucky to have had a gorgeous, comfortable day for the funeral Wednesday.
Having everyone come to the house for a light lunch was exactly the kind of gathering Ed enjoyed--informal with good food. The informality at the viewing Tuesday evening was also the way he would have liked.
I read something online about the stages of grief, a different description than the Kubler Ross stages of grief that many people know. One I found seemed to fit me better: Numbness, Disorganization, Reorganization. I'm definitely in the numbness stage right now. I'm trying to go about the tasks of settling the estate in a methodical way, starting with preparing for my meeting with the estate attorney on Monday. I occasionally break down and ask no one in particular "Why" and "How do I go on." I can't stop thinking how unfair this is to Ed, to me, and to our family. The next stage is when someone completely loses herself to the grief, then the final stage is pulling yourself back together and finding your way in life. Although there are these stages, there is no timetable for when they hit or how long they take to get through.
I'm suddenly very tired--perhaps from the muscle relaxer I took 2 hours ago because my back has flared up again pretty badly. Thanks to all of you who came to the viewing and/or funeral. It means a lot to all of Ed's family to know how much you care. Thank you all for reading the blog. Even though I'm not necessarily writing about Ed now, this blog still makes me feel closer to him. I hope it does for you, too.
I started to write my thoughts about the viewing and funeral yesterday, but then I couldn't bring them together. So I'll give it a try now. The guest book at the funeral home has exactly 100 names in it. Ed would have liked the fact that I counted. It's something he would have done. We estimated there were 50 people at the house after the funeral, again estimating a crowd size was something he always did. I had carefully selected the music and readings for the Mass of Christian Burial, and for the most part the priest and choir followed through. The choir did a beautiful meditation, almost a Gregorian chant-like piece, after Communion that I didn't know about, but I appreciated the words and music. One thing I did not understand was the direction Father Brosmer's homily took. It started out fine in praising Ed's life and offering comfort to us, and I understood the ultimate message of encouraging us to do something good in memory of this good man, but when he launched into a litany of sorts of drastic sins and misdeeds that should be corrected, that I found out of place. My sister said maybe he has a standard funeral homily and he only adjusts the opening for each occasion. If that's true, I need to get on the Bereavement Committee at church and forewarn people! (That's an attempt at humor, meager though it is.) I asked my cousin Carole and her husband Ron Lapinsky to bring the gifts up to the altar during Mass. Besides the fact that Ed really enjoyed talking with Ron back in January at my Aunt Lou's funeral and that he knew how much I think of Carole as my big sister, Carole's frequent e-mails were comforting to both of us. I saw their participation at the Mass as a way of thanking them for their support and for traveling to be here. I'm also glad that I named honorary pall bearers. Ed decided he wanted six of his grandsons as pall bearers, and I'm very glad that Josh, Jeremy, Rob, Tommy, Kurt,and Kyle were willing, but I just knew, had we thought of it as we talked about what he wanted, that he would have wanted to show his honor and respect and love for his close friends, too: his life-long friends Larry Clements and Tom Gibbons from the Cincinnati area, and his closest friends from Norwalk, IA, Tom Greteman, Dave Hixenbaugh, Duane Frideres, and Joe Zerfas.
I really like the place at the cemetery that I chose for him, very near the tall flagpole and monument to veterans. Marie (my sister) and I went to the cemetery Thursday--she did not want me going there alone my first time. I was OK there. The gravesite was leveled out already and the flowers were still fresh-looking despite the heat of the day. We were lucky to have had a gorgeous, comfortable day for the funeral Wednesday.
Having everyone come to the house for a light lunch was exactly the kind of gathering Ed enjoyed--informal with good food. The informality at the viewing Tuesday evening was also the way he would have liked.
I read something online about the stages of grief, a different description than the Kubler Ross stages of grief that many people know. One I found seemed to fit me better: Numbness, Disorganization, Reorganization. I'm definitely in the numbness stage right now. I'm trying to go about the tasks of settling the estate in a methodical way, starting with preparing for my meeting with the estate attorney on Monday. I occasionally break down and ask no one in particular "Why" and "How do I go on." I can't stop thinking how unfair this is to Ed, to me, and to our family. The next stage is when someone completely loses herself to the grief, then the final stage is pulling yourself back together and finding your way in life. Although there are these stages, there is no timetable for when they hit or how long they take to get through.
I'm suddenly very tired--perhaps from the muscle relaxer I took 2 hours ago because my back has flared up again pretty badly. Thanks to all of you who came to the viewing and/or funeral. It means a lot to all of Ed's family to know how much you care. Thank you all for reading the blog. Even though I'm not necessarily writing about Ed now, this blog still makes me feel closer to him. I hope it does for you, too.
Monday, June 18, 2007
Monday thoughts
It seems odd to be writing in daylight. The hospital bed, oxygen and related equipment, suction machine, wheelchair, bedside table, linens, and shower chair will all be picked up this afternoon. I signed the final paperwork at the cemetery this morning. Yesterday afternoon I finalized the funeral home arrangements and I'll meet with Father Brosmer in a bit to choose music and readings. It all seems somewhat surreal.
When Melissa and I went to Sunday Mass, we saw that both the Norton Rd. and Sullivant Ave. accesses were open into the parking lot at church. Road construction around there is awful. Same is true by the funeral home. Norwich St., where the funeral home main address is, is closed. You have to turn from Main St. in what's called Old Hilliard onto Center St., but that's good because one block later is the parking lot for the funeral home, on the left, actually at the corner of Center and Columbia, beside and behind a white house. The main entrance to the funeral home is on Columbia St.
The obituary was in today's Columbus Dispatch. There are two minor errors (Northwest Financial instead of Norwest Financial and home instead of him), so of course I was a little disappointed about that because I regarded that obit as a genealogical resource of the kind Ed researched about his family these past few years, plus we all know how obsessive I am about editing and proofing. I didn't realize there would also be an online registry book associated with the Dispatch obit for people to express their sentiments. The Cincinnati Inquirer will run an obit Tuesday morning. I'll send a full article for the Norwalk, IA, paper later this week. (We still get that paper.)
I'm hoping for at least a little cooler temperatures for Wednesday morning; it's supposed to be 95 here today.
When Melissa and I went to Sunday Mass, we saw that both the Norton Rd. and Sullivant Ave. accesses were open into the parking lot at church. Road construction around there is awful. Same is true by the funeral home. Norwich St., where the funeral home main address is, is closed. You have to turn from Main St. in what's called Old Hilliard onto Center St., but that's good because one block later is the parking lot for the funeral home, on the left, actually at the corner of Center and Columbia, beside and behind a white house. The main entrance to the funeral home is on Columbia St.
The obituary was in today's Columbus Dispatch. There are two minor errors (Northwest Financial instead of Norwest Financial and home instead of him), so of course I was a little disappointed about that because I regarded that obit as a genealogical resource of the kind Ed researched about his family these past few years, plus we all know how obsessive I am about editing and proofing. I didn't realize there would also be an online registry book associated with the Dispatch obit for people to express their sentiments. The Cincinnati Inquirer will run an obit Tuesday morning. I'll send a full article for the Norwalk, IA, paper later this week. (We still get that paper.)
I'm hoping for at least a little cooler temperatures for Wednesday morning; it's supposed to be 95 here today.
Saturday, June 16, 2007
It's over
By now, some of you have already heard the news. Ed passed away at 2:25 p.m. today. I had gone to the pharmacy to pick up a refill on his bedtime medicine because we had only one pill left, and I had just picked it up and put it in my purse when my cell phone rang; it was Judi telling me to come home. At that point he still had a few labored breaths left in him, but before I could get home he took his last breath. Hospice nurse Amy (who had been here a few times and came to prepare him for the funeral home pickup) said she was convinced that he waited for me to be out of the house, to spare me.
Ironically, a different hospice nurse came to check on him at 11:30 a.m., and she told us that with his breathing being so strong, we were not looking at hours but maybe days. She urged us to take care of ourselves to be able to bear up a little longer, that he would go when the time was right for him. She also said he could prove her wrong--and he did. Ed got his wish. He died at home. The nurses all said he was comfortable to the end and that we had taken very good care of him.
Writing this blog that he started has been very good for me, a kind of therapy I guess. I hope I haven't "grossed out" anyone with the details, but it is also kind of my journal or memory book of all that has happened. I feel close to him every time I look at it, especially looking back at those first entries that he wrote himself. He wanted me to keep updating it.
I thank you all for your thoughts and prayers through this ordeal. You know Ed appreciated each and every one of you showing your concern. We do have some arrangements decided, so I'll list below what I think might be of interest, especially to those of you who have said you will be trying to come for the funeral.
The viewing will be Tuesday, June 19, at Tidd Funeral Home, 5265 Norwich Street, Hilliard, OH. Private family time from 5 to 6 p.m. Viewing for visitors 6 to 8 p.m.
Mass of Christian Burial Wednesday, June 20, 10 a.m. at St. Cecilia Church, 434 Norton Road, Columbus (corner of Norton and Sullivant--sorry, there's horrible road construction going on and only one lane open on Norton into the church parking lot). Burial will follow at Sunset Cemetery, 6959 W. Broad St., (technically Galloway but it's really Columbus still) in the veterans' section.
Afterwards, everyone is invited back to our house, 6344 Thorncrest Dr., just a couple of miles from the cemetery.
There are numerous hotels in the vicinity of our house. The closest are:
Best Western, 1133 Evans Way Ct. @ Hilliard-Rome Rd. (The locals refer to this street as Rome-Hilliard Road.)
Country Inn & Suites, next-door to the Best Western
Microtel, 5451 Feder Rd., behind Handel's Ice Cream store (I'm not familiar with this one but it looks fairly new)
A Hampton Inn is also close by, near the intersection of Hilliard-Rome Road and Trabue Road; several others are at Hilliard-Rome and Renner. Renner and Trabue are actually the same street, just named differently on each side of Hilliard-Rome.
Contributions in Ed's memory may be made to one of the organizations below. Please enclose a note explaining that the donation is in memory of Ed Giesman and an acknowledgement letter should be sent to Mrs. Joan Giesman, 6344 Thorncrest Dr., Galloway, OH 43119. The organizations are as follows:
Purcell Marian High School, Alumni and Development Office, 2935 Hackberry St., Cincinnati, OH 45206
OR
Xavier University Annual Fund, 3800 Victory Parkway, Cincinnati, OH 45207
OR
Home Reach Hospice, c/o OhioHealth Foundation, 180 E. Broad St., Floor 31, Columbus, OH 43215-3707. Make the check out to OhioHealth Foundation, but be sure to say in your note that the contribution is specifically for Home Reach Hospice.
I don't mean to imply that anyone should make a donation anywhere, but since I have been asked, now anyone who wants that info has it. Also, if there is some other way you prefer to remember Ed, please feel free. For us it has always been enough to know we have strong bonds with family and so many dear friends.
I don't know if I'll write more in this blog; probably I will. But not tonight. We'll see if I wake up every 4 hours still.
Love to you all,
Joni
Ironically, a different hospice nurse came to check on him at 11:30 a.m., and she told us that with his breathing being so strong, we were not looking at hours but maybe days. She urged us to take care of ourselves to be able to bear up a little longer, that he would go when the time was right for him. She also said he could prove her wrong--and he did. Ed got his wish. He died at home. The nurses all said he was comfortable to the end and that we had taken very good care of him.
Writing this blog that he started has been very good for me, a kind of therapy I guess. I hope I haven't "grossed out" anyone with the details, but it is also kind of my journal or memory book of all that has happened. I feel close to him every time I look at it, especially looking back at those first entries that he wrote himself. He wanted me to keep updating it.
I thank you all for your thoughts and prayers through this ordeal. You know Ed appreciated each and every one of you showing your concern. We do have some arrangements decided, so I'll list below what I think might be of interest, especially to those of you who have said you will be trying to come for the funeral.
The viewing will be Tuesday, June 19, at Tidd Funeral Home, 5265 Norwich Street, Hilliard, OH. Private family time from 5 to 6 p.m. Viewing for visitors 6 to 8 p.m.
Mass of Christian Burial Wednesday, June 20, 10 a.m. at St. Cecilia Church, 434 Norton Road, Columbus (corner of Norton and Sullivant--sorry, there's horrible road construction going on and only one lane open on Norton into the church parking lot). Burial will follow at Sunset Cemetery, 6959 W. Broad St., (technically Galloway but it's really Columbus still) in the veterans' section.
Afterwards, everyone is invited back to our house, 6344 Thorncrest Dr., just a couple of miles from the cemetery.
There are numerous hotels in the vicinity of our house. The closest are:
Best Western, 1133 Evans Way Ct. @ Hilliard-Rome Rd. (The locals refer to this street as Rome-Hilliard Road.)
Country Inn & Suites, next-door to the Best Western
Microtel, 5451 Feder Rd., behind Handel's Ice Cream store (I'm not familiar with this one but it looks fairly new)
A Hampton Inn is also close by, near the intersection of Hilliard-Rome Road and Trabue Road; several others are at Hilliard-Rome and Renner. Renner and Trabue are actually the same street, just named differently on each side of Hilliard-Rome.
Contributions in Ed's memory may be made to one of the organizations below. Please enclose a note explaining that the donation is in memory of Ed Giesman and an acknowledgement letter should be sent to Mrs. Joan Giesman, 6344 Thorncrest Dr., Galloway, OH 43119. The organizations are as follows:
Purcell Marian High School, Alumni and Development Office, 2935 Hackberry St., Cincinnati, OH 45206
OR
Xavier University Annual Fund, 3800 Victory Parkway, Cincinnati, OH 45207
OR
Home Reach Hospice, c/o OhioHealth Foundation, 180 E. Broad St., Floor 31, Columbus, OH 43215-3707. Make the check out to OhioHealth Foundation, but be sure to say in your note that the contribution is specifically for Home Reach Hospice.
I don't mean to imply that anyone should make a donation anywhere, but since I have been asked, now anyone who wants that info has it. Also, if there is some other way you prefer to remember Ed, please feel free. For us it has always been enough to know we have strong bonds with family and so many dear friends.
I don't know if I'll write more in this blog; probably I will. But not tonight. We'll see if I wake up every 4 hours still.
Love to you all,
Joni
Friday, June 15, 2007
Coma now
Hospice nurse Karen came today. She described Ed as being in a coma now. His blood pressure is way down, and she felt that the highly-concentrated oxygen he had at his nose is no longer necessary. He has been breathing regular room air since about 3:30 today. Karen turned off the oxygen concentrator machine, and we all were immediately struck by the quietness in the house without its noise that we had so gotten used to 24 hours a day. Within about a half-hour, his breathing became shallow again; however, this evening he is back to deeper breaths. In fact, I described it as him snoring as he always has except without the grating noise. Karen says he must still have some unfinished business inside of himself that he is still working through, and so he is still hanging on. Yet once again she told me to wait until tomorrow to refill his bedtime pill prescription even though as of right now there is only one pill left, that being for tomorrow night. I had to pause when Karen looked for my agreement with removing the oxygen, but I thought about what his living will and his health care power of attorney say, as well as our conversations, and I gave my consent.
Judi was in and out today. Caregiver Nicole came early, but Karen had said we should just leave Ed be and not bathe him today. Still, I think Nicole has become attached to Ed and us; she stayed for two hours anyway. Becky, Debbie, Melissa and I had supper together, and for a change they let me cook--didn't do much, just a quick use of the grill. Debbie's husband Tom was here briefly, too. Becky will shortly be heading home to her own family for the night, and Sherry is lodging at the Drury Hotel tonight (she works for Drury) where son Jeremy, in from St. Louis, is also staying. So tonight with me are Melissa and Debbie. I am continuing to give Ed his pain medication as a safeguard in case he can still feel pain, though Karen thinks that unlikely.
Judi was in and out today. Caregiver Nicole came early, but Karen had said we should just leave Ed be and not bathe him today. Still, I think Nicole has become attached to Ed and us; she stayed for two hours anyway. Becky, Debbie, Melissa and I had supper together, and for a change they let me cook--didn't do much, just a quick use of the grill. Debbie's husband Tom was here briefly, too. Becky will shortly be heading home to her own family for the night, and Sherry is lodging at the Drury Hotel tonight (she works for Drury) where son Jeremy, in from St. Louis, is also staying. So tonight with me are Melissa and Debbie. I am continuing to give Ed his pain medication as a safeguard in case he can still feel pain, though Karen thinks that unlikely.
Thursday, June 14, 2007
Semi-comatose
Once again, the medical terminology becomes part of our vocabulary. We believe Ed is in the stage known as semi-comatose. The hospice nurse says he may be hearing our voices and may even recognize them, but he is probably not processing what we are saying. His eyelids are half-shut, and his eyes are glazed and unfocused. He looks like he is sleeping non-stop, but he does wince when we try to move him to a different position so he must still feel pain. Speaking to him now draws no response. His breathing was very shallow this morning, but this afternoon after caregiver Nicole gave him a partial bath and we re-positioned him, his breathing became deeper again. The hospice nurse is surprised that he is still with us. She described his state now as being half-way down a tunnel, and he is slowly making his way to the end of it. The hospice chaplain called today and said the team had discussed Ed and us today and agreed that this happened very fast--yet often I feel like this is dragging on needlessly, especially if there's a chance he is suffering. Nevertheless, I set my alarm to give him pain medication every 4 hours through the night, and Melissa has been good with giving me timely reminders about what I need to do for him during the day--administering the few meds, changing the water in his oxygen concentrator, even updating the blog. Judi provided another delicious supper today. We are a crew of four again tonight--me, Melissa, Sherry, and Debbie.
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