Considering mortality

Warning, I talk about some morbid thoughts today. With Dolly Parton and Tim Curry both dying yesterday, age 80, I'm considering my own death.

The pulmonary function tests didn't go that well on Wednesday morning. I have always had trouble with the demand to breathe out, more , more, more! But I couldn't even get my inbreath to register with the computer. I finally noticed that the technician was telling me to take a sharp in-breath when I hadn't completely finished my outbreath. When I mentioned this, she told me to do it myself.

And then I finally had one out of three tries at least register. She had been frustrated that I just wasn't having a 6 second intake. Nope. I couldn't find anyplace inside for more air. So she had me use the albuterol puffer. It did a little bit better. And in between test breaths I was using my oxygen to have comfort.

It does not bode well, I'm feeling. I'm writing this after I got home, having done some grocery shopping and picked up new prescriptions. I had a apple turnover for lunch, then a nap. It's a cloudy windy day outside, so I have the blinds partially open to see the sky and trees outside.

So I haven't put much thought into considering that I might not get better. I may never be able to walk around without oxygen. I may need a walker to help carry the portable thingie, just because its heavy, and my ability to walk over 20 yards now leaves me panting out of breath, with the oxygen.

What if I am already at the best it's going to get? And for how long might I be able to live independently? 

Tai has already had conversations about this, that I need to check out assisted living facilities. That was before he drove 1800 miles with me. He knows my limitations pretty well by now. Some tomorrow I might need someone to fix my meals, help me bathe, make sure I get my meds.

And as I drove around with my handicap tag on my windshield, from NC, I realized I might have to stop driving. What if I can't pass the Colorado driver's license test? Does making at least one wrong turn on each trip out mean I'm more limited than I think? It's more that I think, well, I should go east on 160, and then find out, I really needed west. These are newcomer's mistakes.

The no driving thing is really the worst thought since I am already dealing with limited walking. I want to walk along Third Ave, and down to Rotary Park...just 2 blocks distant. These are so simple, and yet out of my reach so far.

Of course the worst is just dying, in my sleep, or falling and hitting my head...both of which are possibilities. Or maybe I'll fall and end up hospitalized, and never leave. I'm not exactly ready. Need to write a new will. And then get it witnessed. Job to do, which of course has been avoided. Maybe 15 years ago I did write one. No idea if it's still around. Time to think of a new one.

And the job of clearing out the apartment will fall to Kendra and Tai. That encourages me to continue to give away anything that has little personal value.

I've seen the laundry room situation with my former neighbors' furniture, bedding, etc. Of course I would be happy to recycle most of my things. My personal value is not the same as anyone else...and so considering letting go of stuff (again!) is a continuing task.

 Yes perhaps this is the age when I should be getting ready to die. Whew. At least today I'm getting ready to get ready. 

Threshold ritual for grief

 

I think it was an hour ago when my friend texted that her husband had died the day before. She said she was about to call the funeral home.

So I just texted back that I was so sorry, and was thinking of her. She had been expecting his death for some time.

I also texted a virtual hug, and availability to talk via phone or in person. I left it to her as to when. (Maybe that's a good plan, but if I don't hear from her today, I may call myself later.)

Then I noticed my own feelings.

She's not a pagan, but a humanist. For her this is the end of his existence. For me it's just a transition of the spirit of that man to another form. 

I honor her own beliefs of course. But for me I stopped and stood in the threshold to my bedroom.

I just stood there thinking of transitions. I wanted to say goodbye and pleasant journeys to that man (I'm not using him name because it's his spirit, his life and his death and I respect that). But for me there was the remembering of my Pagan Book of the Dead which used to sit on that shelf by the doorway. I wanted to reach out for it but it's packed already. Then I thought of the Prayer for the Dead which Byron Ballard shares when folks in the Mother Grove Church transition from life.

(I shared Byron's Prayer for the Dead on my blog a while ago.)

But for me I just stood there. And realized I was doing ritual.

Threshold standing between life and death.

It's a new ritual, or just one that occurred naturally.

I faced the doorway, perpendicular to traffic through it, being just in it. Facing south for some reason. I woke then to my own consciousness being in ritual, giving a grieving moment a space separate from daily life.

 Then eventually I turned east and looked at the empty bed in my own bedroom. But that's when tears formed in my eyes. Thinking of my friend who now will be dealing with the loss of her partner of many years. And feeling how that might feel for her, though I've never had such a long term relationship. If there's anything I can do to help her, I will certainly be there. By computer or phone if necessary! In person until I move away in 3 weeks time.

I said mentally some thoughts of wishing the spirit of that man to have peace, that the body has ceased it's functioning and it's pains. I imagined the sense that must be, to have some freedom from those sensations. And then nothingness.

I also said thanks for all the deeds that man had done in this lifetime which helped children. (I barely knew him, but knew his profession had included being a principal of an elementary school.)

And I honored his giving my friend a wonderful marriage where she could explore her own life and become my friend. She very seldom talked about him, and I usually had to ask her how he was, what he did with his own life, as she was busy with so many activities of her own interests. Many people who know her have never even realized she was married. 

In the last few weeks (maybe a month) of his life, she has had a lot of visits to hospitals, arranging where he might go after discharge, a while in a nursing facility, considering rehab, rehospitalization, tests and more tests...it has taken much of her time and energy for his care!

So today is a quiet day in honor of his life. I stand still again whenever I need to simply just be. To simply get used to the idea. Isn't that the way of grief?

The Emberlight people gave him his final bedridden days, while Hospice gave him medical care. Emberlight,** which I recently learned about, is a place for dying with dignity and love, and surrounded by caring volunteers. It uses many principles from Ram Dass, who wrote books about living and dying. It probably would not be considered Christian, but open to all faiths. 

I'm now following their Facebook page, a non-profit which does not charge patients for care.

This is the Red Oak at Emberlight which my friend photographed so we could discern what kind of oak it might be.  I posted about it over on When I Was 69 blog.

**

A donation given to Emberlight was covered by our local news station, and the link is on the Emberlight Facebook page.

On dying and not dying