Excuse me, what are you saying?
he is not a candidate for hospice?
he is not in enough pain?
he is not sick enough?
did not someone tell him yesterday there was no hope?
that he will not live out the month?
and that is why you called hospice?
do you not see that is why he said to leave him alone?
refused to eat?
asked that his children not be allowed in?
do you not recall his brain injury causes him to misinterpret what you say?
did we not leave requests to call his wife if you have something to tell him?
did you forget that he will forget?
Excuse me, what?
you called for a consult for the liver transplant?
did you not do that last week?
and what else?
you are immediately transferring him to the transplant hospital?
so there is some hope?
or are you simply concerned we have finally had enough?
that we shall begin to question every word said?
every thing done?
will you even remember he and we were here?
Today she meets with hospice,
my darling heartbroken daughter,
to discuss how best to establish care
for her darling dying husband.
It is not the dead part I hate so much,
it is the impossibly hard work of dying.
This is the truth I have come to know:
people are not dead until they are dead,
and maybe not then.
You cannot talk over them, pretend they are not there.
You cannot plan without them, assume they don’t care.
They are here! They are here, and fully aware.
So quiet the panic as best as you can,
sit down, shut up, take hold of their hand.
Just at this moment it is not about you.
Cry if you must, wail and weep,
but sit there, and listen, and live in the moment,
while they are here living with you.
How can it be?
How can it be
that that thin, thin body
can hold four liters of fluid?
Four liters of fluid!
There is no room!
Certainly there is no room…
You see, it is not just the liver that petrifies,
but also the hearts of those watching,
praying for that one miracle,
one is all that is needed,
before his body
is too weak
Today they started the confirmation hearings for the next president’s cabinet… how the talking heads will smirk and opine, how the haters will smugly hold to their views, the fearful will shiver, the disgusted will huff…and some of us will continue to pray to all the powers of good in this universe, God Almighty Himself, to guide the hands and hearts, minds and mouths of these people duly elected to manage our country… It is time for cooler heads to prevail, for the noise to cease, and the listening to begin, lest we miss what we really need to hear…
All this talk of hope…hopelessness…how without hope, you have nothing…
I think it’s off base. Faith is what you must have. You can develop hope, if you have faith. Faith in God, the creation, the unseen. Faith in your fellowman, faith in yourself. Faith that the sun will rise at some point, and that it will shine and warm you.
We must have faith that despite all appearances, our country will continue, our freedoms will sustain us, our work will feed us, our efforts will reap rewards…
We must have faith in the principles that guide us, faith in our fathers and mothers before us, faith in our children after…faith that our doctors know what they’re doing, faith that our deaths somehow lead to life.
It is Faith that pulls us through when all hope is gone… and that’s how I see it…
The move to protect more national monuments, reminds me I once dreamt of becoming a world renowned archaeologist…Mary Leakey was my idol with her discovery of australopithicenes… after I married, and my husband told me I didn’t need to go to college because I was married now (1972), I raided the library and studied the Hohokam and Anasazi, and Richard Wetherill, who worked at Mesa Verde and in Chaco Canyon to uncover ancient relics. He removed many from their original sites, and they became part of personal and public collections around the world…it was the way things were done in the early 1900s. I had friends in the 1980’s who went on private digs in New Mexico, Arizona, southern Colorado, bringing home pots, pot shards, arrowheads, hand axes, metates, thousands of beads from Hopi, Navajo, Pueblo sites. It was fascinating, and I loved seeing and holding these treasures, but over time, we realized removing those artifacts without properly documenting them was not the best thing to do, and attempts are ongoing to return items to sites/museums at the sites. I am glad to know that over the past century, it has been realized that preservation of ancient sites is important for all of us, not only those who claim direct descendancy.
I spent a few hours, actually only minutes, remembering and reliving things that crushed my heart these past few years…the tears flowed, the breath caught in my chest…BUT I just cannot do it for long…I cannot dwell on loss and betrayal, sickness and what follows…I cannot do it and still see the sun, catch the humor in an oft repeated knock-knock joke, taste the salt in the caramel…so much is lost reliving the past…so I pulled them out, but very soon put them back in their respective boxes and will now shower, dress and attack the blessed puzzle on my coffee table before lunch with good friends. Let your hearts be glad, m’dears…it’s easier and sweeter that way…