Needsleep259’s Weblog


A Tribute to a donor
October 31, 2008, 2:12 pm
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Yesterday was five years of life my husband has lived because of his transplant. A lot  has happened in those five years. We have welcomed two more grandchildren, now two and four years old.  We made a family together after Gia stole our hearts, finalizing her adoption on her second birthday.

My husband has progressed to where he doesn’t need oxygen. We’ve managed to cut back the amount of blood work he needs and medical appointments. He has been mostly stable recently. We have celebrated more holidays, birthdays and anniversaries together.

Somewhere out there is a family that lost a loved one, that chose to let them live on by donating their organs. We tried to contact them through our transplant center but they did not answer our letter. I can understand this, and it is their right. We will be forever grateful to them as my husband lives his life, and to the person who left this world, except for a very special part of them; the part that has given us this time.  Thank you beyond measure, because your last gift was truly priceless.

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Pass the cough drops
October 18, 2008, 5:42 pm
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I had surgery yesterday.  I swear a truck has repeatedly rolled over me, AND I have a strong suspicion the anesthetist shoved my tube down my throat sideways. My throat is so sore, speaking is an effort.  I’ve coughed so much I think I’ve dislocated several of my ribs. All in all though, I am so lucky because it is OVER!

I hate surgery, but no one in their right mind could like it, except for the surgeon. I’ve had more than my share- eight in all. The last four have been to resolve the same problem, an abnormal bleeding that required three blood transfusions initially, and five cauterizations prior to this last surgery. You would think ONE surgery would be enough – I certainly thought so. My first Dr told me he would do an ablation, (a laser surgery to the uterine lining) and I would be fine. Haha – we must have different definitions of fine because a few weeks later there I was in the OR again, this time for a hysterectomy. I had already had a tube removed earlier after an ectopic rupture, so that should have made it easier, but NO – he left the cervix intact. Too difficult to remove he tells me. I really don’t like the guy at this point.

Fast forward a few years later, when I still couldn’t pass up the feminine products aisle without stopping, all because my cervix had been deemed difficult. I finally consult with another doctor and ended up hemorraging right in her office, (talk about impeccable timing), which earned me an overnight stay at the local hospital and a date in the OR for the removal of my cervix. I’m sure no one was ever happier to say goodbye than I was. So I get that surgery thinking I was all done. How naive. To the shock of just about everyone, I still have abnormal bleeding. Every time I go for cauterization I think, this is it, and yet my body continues to betray me.

So I had laser surgery yesterday. I’m admitted at 9:30, in the OR an hour later and wake in recovery an hour after that. At 1:00 my dh and daughter are there to take me home.  I move slowly and weep at the slightest thing, a side effect of sedation.  I drink tea to soothe my throat, which will have consequences later that night when I ‘m hitting the bathroom every two hours, but as I prepare for sleep I am blissfully unaware of that. Climbing into bed that night is a joyous occasion, and as I snuggle in, I dream of a life without Kotex. I hope.

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We were chosen
October 13, 2008, 9:37 pm
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We have been adopted by a small, skittish, black male kitten. Now I want to go on record as saying I told my husband NOT to feed him. “Aw, just a little milk” he says. Now we have a cat named Sam, who follows my daughter around. At a respectful distance of course. He peers in the window beside our door at us. He will bat at a ball of rubber band attached to a string, forgetting himself and getting closer and closer.

I’ve since learned you don’t give a cat whole milk. Oops. He certainly seemed to love it at 6am each morning, when my daughter demanded Sam get some warm milk too. We stopped the milk and now my dh runs out with bits of meat from dinner to supplement his dry food, which I bought with a sigh, because I so didn’t want a cat, cute or not.

And I did try to find a home for him. Silly me, he has one – ours. So tomorrow I will cave and go out and get the essentials, like a flea bath. We’ll get him his shots and have him neutered, and take him inside, where I am sure he will demonstrate his gratitude by shredding my new sofa. Cats.  My husband tells me the cat chose us. I guess I’m honored, but wouldn’t YOU like to be chosen instead??? Email me – I’ll throw in a bag of food and a kitty toy. Please?

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Billy Claude, you are missed
October 2, 2008, 11:50 pm
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Billy Dying 
My brother is going out the same way he lived his life – on his own,
needing no one.
Fiercely private and battling to stay that way.
While the cancer eats him up inside, outside he is raging.
Billy dying, alone and pissed off.
  _________________________________________________________________________
My brother would have me show how I tough I was at five, by having me
kick trees. 
From him I learned you could survive a heart stopping sleigh ride from the highest hill in Trevor Park down to the marina, and that Indian burns hurt.                                        
A whole lot, damn it.                                                        
Billy, tough guy, smirk at the ready. 
_________________________________________________________
My brother has an infinity for fire.   
 He loved to grill, (  burn) the chicken. 
And you don’t bonfire Christmas wrap on a beach on a windy holiday,
unless you are prepared to run like hell back to the house when you hear
 sirens.                                           
Billy was always a good runner.  
 ___________________________________________________________      
My brother climbed mountains and trail blazed.       

 I saw a lot of his back when we were younger, always off somewhere, while I stayed behind.
This time he’s leaving for good.
My brother is dying, too soon, too young, while there are mountains left to climb and flames still flickering 
Billy, fighting for time,for life, and losing the battle.
William J. Claude, 1952-2006
 
 
 
 This post is as haunted as I am. I mean that quite literally, since I have had to go back and fix the spacing dozens of times. I have never had this problem before, and I believe that my brother is looking down at me and snickering right at this moment. At least I hope he is. I wrote this poem for him while he was dying, but he never saw it. He most likely would have made some wiseass comment, or have rolled his eyes.
My brother died of esophageal cancer back in April, 2006. I had seen him the November before that, and he nervously told me about having trouble swallowing, in a hoarse voice. I attributed it to a choking episode he had prior to the visit. He died five months later.
Esophageal cancer is very insidious. It is unfortunately usually diagnosed in the end stages. My brothers had spread very rapidly, and within four months he was emaciated, unable to speak and could hardly walk. It was devastating to see – my brother was such an active, vibrant person. I had asked him at the beginning of his treatment if he was sure he wanted to go through the intense radiation/chemotherapy course his Dr had decided on. It was brutal. He had every hope that he would recover, and I couldn’t take that away by telling him he never would. I did tell my mother before she left on her long planned cruise, and she became very angry at me, but left anyway. Denial doesn’t stop death though, and she barely stepped off the ship when she was called to NY, but that’s another story, one I may never be able to tell.
When my brother did realize he was dying, I was there. He was so very angry. I had taken him home from the hospital after flying to NY from Atlanta on my own. It was a very heart wrenching visit, and the last time I saw my brother. I had asked him to return with me so many times, but he wanted to stay in his home, a dismal bachelors basement apartment, where the smell of mold competed with the gasoline fumes from the garage. I sat there for hours with him on that last day, made all the sadder by the surroundings he would not leave. Our goodbye was painful.
Soon after, Billy fell and shattered his hip, and laid undiscovered on a cold floor for many hours overnight, unable to call out or move. He was vented against his DNR (do not resuscitate) instructions, and died a terrible death in the hospital. I was in Kentucky awaiting the birth of my stepdaughters third child, while watching the other two because her husband was shipping out to Iraq. This was the case where the living took precedence over the dead. I was held in judgement by other family members for not going to his riverside memorial at the Hudson Marina in Yonkers, where they scattered his ashes. The truth is, even if I wasn’t so tied up, I couldn’t say goodbye again. This was another loss of many in my life, one I could not endure.
There isn’t a day that goes by that I’m not incredibly saddened by his loss and by the tragic circumstances of his death. He made me look at my own mortality for the first time, and think about what I wanted from life.
I took a risk I might never have taken as a result, and found the courage to raise my little girl, despite my age. Billy, I love you, and miss you more than I can say. May God wrap you in his arms and grant you peace.

 

 

 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

 

 

This time he’s leaving for good.                                        

 

to climb and flames still flickering.            

 

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