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

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.

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.

A quiet day

We have all had a quiet day today. Ed is mostly sleeping; his breathing is at times very shallow and at other times something like panting. The few times his eyes have been open they look unfocused and dazed. When caregiver Nicole came to give him his bed bath, he winced as she moved him. We suspected a while ago that there may be a lesion on the back of his neck, but then it wasn't really bothering him, so nothing was done about it. Now I think it is bothering him, plus his neck has to be sore from having his head positioned to his left for so many hours to try to keep the mouth secretions out of his throat. He doesn't have the strength to lift his head on his own today.

Next door neighbors Bill and Ann Morgan stopped by this afternoon. The hospice nurse called to check on him, and we could have had the hospice home health aide come bathe him, but I chose to stick with Nicole rather than introduce another stranger into his world. Ed's brother Bob called tonight I suspect more to check on me than anything else. Debbie is staying again tonight with me, Sherry, and Melissa. I've had a rather rough time this evening--this is so unfair; Ed just did not deserve this to happen to him. Frankly, I have prayed that tonight is the end. I can't tell if Ed is suffering, but if he is, I just don't want that for him. I want him to be at peace, and if I can feel that he is, then I think I will be OK.

Flight fright, quiet time for Ed

I mis-spoke "majorly" when I wrote last night that Melissa's flight was getting her here around midnight. She flew from Cedar Rapids to Chicago O'Hare, had to rush to board her flight to Columbus, the plane pushed away from the gate, and the next thing she knew the cabin went black and the pilot was announcing "Evacuate!" She was the second person down the shute at the back of the plane. The pilot had spotted smoke and saw ground crew running away from the plane. Turned out the smoke came from the vehicle that pushes the plane from the gate, and the crew returned with fire extinguishers, fire trucks came, the passengers were led back into the terminal. As you might guess, she was rather hysterical and called Mark immediately. Once she calmed a little, she called me. United eventually announced that the passengers could board a flight that was going to Columbus, then Dayton, but then that plan was cancelled. She re-booked on an early morning flight. Meanwhile, I called my cousin Dot who lives not far from O'Hare, and after a few phone calls among the three of us, Dot and Jack picked up Melissa, took her to their house for some food and sleep, and delivered her to O'Hare this morning. She got here around 9:30 a.m.

We think Ed heard her tell her tale to him. He wasn't passing out smiles today and slept much of the morning and into the afternoon. Caregiver Nicole got him awake, however. She bathed him and changed the bed linens, chatting away with him. Afterwards, he stayed awake and occasionally followed a voice or a face with his eyes. The coughs continued today but they are mostly feeble attempts. Father Brosmer from St. Cecilia came and anointed Ed for the final time. This was Ed's third anointing of the sick, but this time he did not participate in the prayers since he isn't speaking. A hospice nurse called to check on all of us both during the day and this evening. I have cut the "hired help" back to just Nicole from 4 to 6.

Judi cooked tonight, and grandsons Josh and Robby were here as were Debbie and Tom. Overnight tonight we have Sherry and Melissa, of course, plus Debbie.

Active dying

It's odd how the hospice terminology becomes part of your vocabulary. Today we saw further signs of Ed's downhill road. His urine became red. Hospice nurse Karen says that can happen, it's not unusual. He is probably bleeding from the kidney and maybe the liver, and that blood finds its way to the catheter. His cough, while minimal and sporadic overnight, became more frequent early this morning, so I called hospice for advice. Turning him on his side only helped for a little while; he just doesn't have the strength to cough the junk out of his throat. We are now using atropine drops, which are normally eye drops, to try to dry out the secretions that are accumulating, and we now have a suction machine, but so far we haven't had any luck clearing up the congestion in his throat. Karen sat us down (Sherry, Becky, and me) to tell us we are in the final stages, otherwise called active dying. She says it could last 12 hours or 3 days; much depends on Ed's willingness to let go--and ours, because he hears and senses how we feel. The hospice chaplain spent an hour with us today; she was comforting and reassuring to him and us. Melissa was able to get a flight tonight, landing around midnight.

Despite his condition, Ed had occasions of acknowledging us, even giving me an emphatic "No" when I asked if the last suction attempt made him feel any better. He held my hand pretty strongly for a while this evening. My sister Marie called, and he listened attentively as she talked to him. Karen advised us to allow periods when just one of us is beside him and times when we all leave him alone. She says Ed will choose the situation he wants for his last breath, whether that be with us around him or him being alone. We can't know how he wants it to be, so we have to allow for times of all possibilities. Judi is here awaiting Melissa's arrival, and Debbie and Sherry are here for the night, so Ed and I have plenty of company.

He just amazes me

Sometimes the man just amazes me. When I gave him his pain medication at 5:45 a.m. today, he opened his eyes and smiled at me. Throughout the morning and afternoon he opened his eyes (with their morphine glaze, as I call it), seemed to try to focus, responded to health aide Nicole when she arrived, watched her as she bathed him and changed the bed linens (with him in the bed--boy, she's good). When I got home from church announcing "I'm home you lucky person," he gave me a big smile. He snoozed now and again, but I described his occasional seeming alertness between 6 a.m and 1 p.m. as being 5 times the amount of activity that we saw in Saturday's 24-hour period. He opened his eyes and gave 2 big smiles when he saw his brother Bob, and he seemed to acknowledge other visitors as well. He even answered hospice nurse Amy with an audible "yes" along with nodding his head. Several times today he gave slight nods of yes or no to me. It even looked like he was interested in a few of the golf shots on TV. We were told before that this process was a series of ups and downs on a downhill road, so today must have been one of those ups after yesterday's down. What capped the day was this evening as I tucked my index finger into a wet washcloth to bathe his mouth and he bit me--hard enough to leave teeth marks and it hurt! I yelped, and he opened his eyes wide then gave me a huge smile.

Once most of the visitors left, he was obviously exhausted, but sleep didn't come easily. I had questioned nurse Amy about a cough he developed about 2 p.m. She still doesn't hear any fluid in his lungs so she really didn't have a satisfactory explanation for the cough. I guess he just doesn't have the strength to cough out the phlegm in his throat, assuming that's what it is.

Today's parade of visitors--besides brother Bob and nephew Bobby, daughters, son, and a sprinkling of grandkids--included Frank Barone, an old friend and neighbor from his years living in Upper Arlington when his kids were growing up; our next-door neighbors Bill and Ann Morgan; and our former across-the-street neighbor John Wade. So once again it was a busy day. Sherry and Becky are splitting the night patrol tonight with me stepping in at the appropriate hour to administer the Roxanol. My alarm clock has never before gotten such a workout in a single night.