Out to Sea

Mom’s funeral was yesterday. I did the same thing I did with Darcy, we went and scattered her ashes at sea. Although it is still raining throughout SoCal, down in Costa Mesa at the coast it was barely raining at all, so it wasn’t a problem.

However, the sea’s were pretty rough so we had to make it quick and hold tight to the railing. Bennet and Summer were the only ones there. I told them they were the only family I had left and Summer hugged me and said I wasn’t going to get rid of her, ever. Bennet agreed, said he wouldn’t even be here today if it wasn’t for me so anything I needed they would do.

All very emotional, especially when you consider that I’m not really related to them, Bennet is Darcy’s son so he is my stepson, and Summer is my step Daughter-in-law. Making Ally my step-granddaughter.

But I’ve always felt that family is the people you choose more than the accidents you were born with. My mom was not the best mom in the world but she wasn’t the worst either. She is the one person who knew me for the entire 57.5 years of my life - or the last one left, anyway. My sister did and so did my dad. But my dad died when I was 13 and my sister around 6 years ago of cancer.

I’m still stuck in a deep depression, hope it lifts soon.

Mom

My mom died yesterday. Actually she died Nov 16 but they didn't bother to tell me until yesterday. She was in pretty bad shape at 93, dementia had taken her mind away, to the point where she couldn't even speak but could only make animal noises. It was hard to watch. I didn't visit her much because she hadn't recognized me for 4 years now. I would stop by occasionally to make sure the nursing home was taking good care of her.

The picture is Darcy and Mom from about 15 years ago, it's not very good but it's the only one I can find. Darcy is only 5' 4" tall so you can see how short Mom was. The most startling thing over the last 4 years was her face. When no one was home any more her face underwent a dramatic change, very shocking to look at.

At one time all the women in my life were threatening to die on me; our cat Nikko (she was our baby), my sister, Darcy and my mom. My sister died of cancer one day before her 60th birthday, Darcy died one week before her 61st birthday, but my mom outlasted all of them at 93. She was always pretty tough, but I think even she felt it was time to go because she was barely eating. Food used to be her favorite thing, as a tiny, old woman she could put away quantities that would put a truck driver to shame.

That is the god-damned death panel, Sarah Palin!

Keith Olbermann said that on his Special Comment last night. He did a brilliant one on health care once again about his dad. He speaks about it the way only one who has gone through it could and I was in tears by the end of it. It was all familiar to me, hell, I even understood most of the medical terminology and procedures he talked about. Anyone who thinks this is hyperbole simply hasn’t been through it, especially with a loved one that you know is going to die, you just don’t know when.

Keith’s theme this time was the death panels the Right has been going on and on about. He had long talks with his dad about what he wanted and with his dad’s doctors, so everyone knew Keith had final say and what his dad’s wishes were. This is what those so-called death panels are, a chance to pay the doctor for having these very necessary discussions. He called these Life Panels. Keith said having all this squared away was the only feeling of comfort he had in the whole thing and that the real death panels were already happening when the insurance companies deny coverage that will save someone’s life.

I know Darcy and I - and her doctor - had these discussions, and I had fully expected for the last 16 years that someday I’d have to step in and tell them to disconnect the breathing machine and pull the intubation tube. I saw my roll as coming in to rescue her from a medical profession that is unable to let someone die when that is the better choice. Darcy’s greatest fear was being on intubation in a nursing home indefinitely.

Keith said that his out of pocket expenses were higher for HIM than they were for his dad because Dad had Medicare. The same was true of Darcy, no treatment was ever denied to her because she was on Medicare, in fact, according to her email lung-buddies it was all the people with private insurance who had nothing but problems and had to fight with those companies constantly. Let me assure you that fighting with your insurance company when you’ve just been diagnosed with a fatal disease is horrible. This idea of “socialized medicine” being a big boogie man is pure bullshit and designed to push people’s buttons, to get irrational, emotional reactions from them. Most of the people crying about socialism don’t even know what it is.

Visit msnbc.com for breaking news, world news, and news about the economy

Me and Darcy

This is from 1985 when we were first dating. We are walking up the stairs where we both worked at STS Graphics, I don't remember who took the photo. This has to be the earliest photo of us together.

More Photos

Still packing to move and running across more photos. Found some real gems today I had no idea I had, mostly of Darcy and Nikko. I don't have time to scan in very many, got to pack like crazy! I'm running out of time.

This one is a great family portrait of Darcy, Nikko and me. Look how intent Nikko is, she was so full of personality. And unlike most cats she loved for me to hold her, but only me, no one else could do it.

The second one is Darcy and Nikko sacking out. I love this one. It has to be 16 years old at least. We were still living in Fullerton but I can see Darcy is already sick because she's showing the weight gain from her medications. She was skinny before she started taking prednisone.

I'll be very glad when this move is over. I will finally feel like I can move on, being in my own, post-Darcy place, rather than the one we shared for 10 years. It will be very nice having Ally right next door, too, she came over last Sunday to help me paint.

I hate to think how the current cats, Aki and Cead, are going to react to the move. They've never lived anywhere but here, and cats hate change. I won't even be able to let them outside for at least a month so they won't try and head back to the old place.

Remembering Darcy

The worst part of moving is going through our tons of stuff, or I should say Darcy’s tons of stuff since 90% of it hers. It’s also bittersweet, I keep coming upon things like old photos that make me stop and look and sometimes cry a little.

I found one that was an odd black & white photo but when I turned it over there was a message on the back written to me. At this point I start to remember it. My memory is so bad now I’m actually losing my past. Her note really got to me, written in a bold, black marker in her terrible handwriting and covering the whole back of the photo:

Kevin, My Darling Bear, I am so proud of you, congratulations on your first cover . . . I finally went into a darkroom today, and for that I thank you more than you know . . .Remember that I love you always & that I believe in you, look back at how much you’ve grown this last year, and you will too . . .I really do love you so much Kevin, so now I am going to go upstairs & slip my hand into yours. (where it belongs!) and fall asleep, until your sleepy tousled face kisses me awake in the morning Happy Valentines Darcy

She was always bad with punctuation but at least she put in capitals this time. I don’t know what year it was but the cover reference referred to a painted cover I did for a magazine so it has to be 1987 or 88. There were so many things she wanted to do, like photography and writing, but had no confidence in herself to do them. I tried to encourage her and she actually signed up for a class and only went to a few classes, but she did get to use the darkroom and make some pictures.

She also took along her very expensive camera when we eloped to Scotland and photographed the whole adventure. Flying into Glascow, renting a car to drive to Edinborough where we got married, then traveled through England and down to Paris, where we flew back from. Truly a great trip and some great photos to cover it.

I still love the story of Darcy talking to the Justice of the Peace in Edinborough over the phone while we were planning it. She called it Edinburgh and he said in his Scottish brogue: “Ah lass! I canna marry ya if ya canna pronounce it - it’s EdinbuRAH!”

She got sick soon after that and didn't do much photography, her hands were shaking too much.

Bacon and Eggs

Image via Wikipedia

I had bacon and eggs for lunch at a coffee shop today. Such a simple thing yet filled with hidden meaning. I don’t think I’ve had them for over a year and it was the first time I’ve eaten alone in I don’t know how long, might actually be since Darcy and I first started dating in 1985. I might have eaten alone at a convention somewhere over the years but every time I can think of I was with someone. Hardly ever went to a convention alone and if I did I’d usually meet someone I knew there to eat with.

I used to eat alone a lot BD (Before Darcy), I liked eating out but didn’t always want company. I used to love to bring a book with me and have a little quiet time reading while waiting for the food and after finishing. This time I brought my book on my iPod Touch, which is absolutely perfect for that! Easy to carry and I could read while eating. Need to turn the page but hands are greasy? Just need a pinkie finger to swipe the screen, simple as could be.

It’s a good thing I’m easily amused because after a week and half with a really bad flu I’ve been really miserable. Mostly over it but the nasal and lung congestion just wants to linger on for what feels like forever, but today was the best I’ve felt in quite a while. But I think I need some Mucinex and some hot tea with honey and lemon. I don’t know what it is but that drink works wonders for the throat. And it’s got to be those three things, miss any one and it just isn’t right. The lemon is the key to it, I think.

And I must be feeling better to want to write in my blog. Well, I’ve wanted to, because I never lack something to say or the desire to say it, but I was too depressed to get started since Darcy died. Guess I have to learn how to create a life AD (After Darcy).

Changes in the NFL

Image via Wikipedia

Just came across this little news blurb from ESPN:

DANA POINT, Calif. -- More games that count, perhaps as early as August 2011? That's exactly what NFL commissioner Roger Goodell wants.

There are several hurdles before the league can expand its regular season from 16 to 17 or 18 games. Among them is reaching a new collective bargaining agreement with the players' union.

Still, the commissioner hopes to present a proposal to the owners in May after the matter was discussed at length this week at the owners meetings.

"It's possible that we could vote in May, but we want to have core discussions on this," Goodell said Wednesday. "Anytime you have change, there is some reluctance. But it's clear we don't need four preseason games anymore."

I would LOVE another game or two. My seasons have been messed up lately because of Darcy, she hated football and was so glad when the season was over. It made the Super Bowl bittersweet for me because that was the one game she liked - because it was the last one for many months.

I actually missed most of the season, seeing maybe one game a week, if that, because I wanted to spend my time with Darcy for however much time she had left. There was none to waste.

Now it's just the opposite, with Darcy gone I very much want as much football as I can get because it will make me not think about Darcy. So an extra game or two would be great. And I hate pre-season games, not worth watching and not worth getting a star player hurt.

One or two more games would place quite a toll on the players, though, a football game is pretty brutal, it's rare to come out of one without some kind of injury. Plus there is the fatigue factor.

I'd still be very happy to see it, I don't watch pre-seaso0n or collage football because they just aren't the same .

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Darcy and Me

I was going to put a picture up of Darcy that showed how sick she was. I only have one because she didn’t want any pictures because of how badly she looked. There is only one in existence because she did it for one of the grandkids, Maddie.

But when Bennet was here and going through some of her things I found a set of very old photos. This picture of us is from January 1986. I can pinpoint the time exactly because it was when my sister Wendy and Earl got married and I know they did it on my mom’s birthday, January 10.

We had only been dating a few months and she hadn’t even moved in yet, although I think she did not long after the picture was taken. It was kind of a gradual process. But we got Nikko, the World’s Best Cat, in April that year and had been living together for a bit before then.

I think this is the first picture of her I’ve put on the web. I thought it should be a good one, not one of a courageous person ravaged by disease.

Life Without Darcy

It’s been more of a struggle to live without Darcy than I thought it would be, 23 years together creates a lot of patterns. It’s almost more as if I lost a piece of myself than just losing my wife - as if that wasn’t enough.

Years ago I was working really hard, trying to start different businesses and working 16 hours a day, 7 days a week. Darcy wasn’t one of those wives who complained, what she did was support me as much as possible. One way she did that was to take care of everything at home, cleaning, cooking, shopping, paying bills, etc. Not that she liked all those things but she was home and unable to work and she did want to do her share.

Now I have to do all those things myself and having a tough time of it. I never was very good at it. Before Darcy moved in my place was a mess, I only ate fast food, and my bills were starting to get out of control just because I couldn’t remember them until it became urgent, like they were about to cut my electricity off. So I’m not good at these things to begin with.

I’m also faced with this huge case of ennui, I just find it really hard to do things and I find myself so indecisive that I’ll put things off just so I don’t have to decide anything. I keep thinking I need to start making lists of things to do and make plans on when to do them but then I forget to do it or put it off. And the more I put things off the more things spiral out of control and the more indecisive I feel. And the more depressed I feel.

Boy, do I want a cigarette. I haven’t had one since August 1st which I find amazing considering all that has gone on since then. Clearly I would not have made it without the Chantix. Speaking of which, I forgot it this morning, better go take some.

Wish I could talk to Darcy about all this but I’ll have to settle for a blog posting.

Mom

With Darcy being so sick for so long I'm afraid I've neglected my mother. She went into a nursing home a little over a year ago and Medicare and Medi-Cal take care of the bills, so my absence doesn't mean much.

I posted about the last visit, unfortunately nothing has improved. As I was walking to her room I was hearing someone who sounded a bit demented in the hallway when I suddenly realized the voice was familiar. Yep, it was my mom. Not only can she barely see or hear but she can't even talk very well now.

I brought along a notebook with a sharpie so I could write messages large enough for her to read, but it didn't work.

As soon as I got there she got very angry and violent, telling me to go away and even yelling help really loud. I wrote on the pad but she wouldn't look at it but just smacked it with her hand.

I tried to get in front of her so she could see me a little better and she tried to smack me with the Kleenex box she was holding. I got behind her and tried to talk directly into her ears but she couldn't hear and kept trying to reach back to hit me. Actually caught me in my right eye with a fingernail, hope it doesn't get bad, right now it just feels slightly off but doesn't really hurt.

After trying for about 15 minutes I just left, the whole time her hostility never abated - it's amazing how much energy she has for a very sick and old woman (turned 91 in January). I couldn't get through to her and was just agitating her so there seemed to be no point in staying.

She looks really awful. The whole shape of her face has changed, almost looking feral. I have no idea what is going on in her brain, I don't know if she knows where she is or even who she is. If she doesn't know me then it's really bad.

There is supposed to be a meeting of the staff some time this week to discuss her care so I will try to make that and see what they all say about her. At this point, though, it's as if she is already gone. I can't even tell her that Darcy is dead.

Ashes

I have to say that today was probably the strangest day of my life, we spread Darcy’s ashes out over the ocean this afternoon.

It was done by the Omega Society who I thought did a very good job all the way around. I pretty much signed my name a couple of times and wrote a couple of checks and they took care of everything else.

The boat was beautiful, a real luxury yacht, which just made it seem surreal. It took maybe 45 minutes to get out of Newport Harbor into the open sea. It was very relaxing and being out in the open air and ocean like that gave me a real sense of freedom.

They had Darcy wrapped up in what felt like a tablecloth. I leaned over the rail and unfurled it to let the ashes sail out and into the water, then we all threw roses on top of the ashes. The ashes spread very slowly at first so they stayed with the roses. The people at work had all chipped in and gotten flowers for us as well to toss into the ocean and we did that to, then the captain piloted the boat in a circle around the ashes and flowers.

All I could do was stand at the rail and cry. But it felt like we were letting her go, giving her freedom. I’ve been to a lot of ordinary funerals and that freedom wasn’t there, it was just sad as the casket is lowered into the ground. Much better to float through the ocean. My main thought was, “Boy, I wish Darcy could see this she would have really liked it.”

That is what bothers me the most now. A dozen times a day I see things and my immediate reaction is “Got to tell Darcy about that one!” Then realize I can’t do that ever again. I can certainly understand why religious people want to think the dear departed is watching somehow, or that we will all met up again in heaven. The thought would be comforting but no one can just choose to believe something that seems like complete nonsense.

At one point I thought back to our 22 years together and remembered her in better times and in better health. It was good to think of her like that.

New Year’s Eve

Image by Getty Images via DaylifeThis is definitely my worst year ever, which would have been true of any year when Darcy died. Thinking I was OK was a bit premature, I think I was just stunned when it all happened and now it’s had a chance to seep in. I’ve started having little moments of panic, scared of facing the world without her, but then I think that over the past 2 years I’m the one who was taking care of everything by myself.

But not only did Darcy pass away last week but this was her worst year, ever since the accident last March 1st, where the van company broke her back, she’s just been desperately ill and unable to bounce back for first time in 15 years. They did her in and they aren’t even going to pay very much for it, but they will pay something. She really suffered pretty badly during that time, so sick she was in bed all the time except to go to dialysis. And I would come home from work and go to bed with her and watch TV, just so we could spend as much time together as possible.

We settled the law suit the Thursday before she died. It’s much smaller than I would have liked but it was all I could get. At least I won’t have to worry about money for a while if I don’t change anything and don’t start buying lots of stuff. I need a couple of new Wacom tablets and maybe the $900 MacBook. But that is it.

I’m thinking of downsizing to a one bedroom apartment and hopefully knock off a few hundred dollars per month. Have to prepare for tough times in the future because things aren’t going to be getting any better.

Last New Year’s I posted how I really hope Darcy makes it to this one but I didn’t think she would. She missed it by 9 days. Today would have been her 61st birthday.

It was an incredible year for politics, though. I became a real political junkie, watching all the TV shows and listening to Air America all day long. America elected it’s first black president, and the economy has collapsed in such a way as to show just how awful Republican economics really is - a total failure in every possible way. Unless you are very rich then you can steal from the government and the middle class.

FOOTBALL!

Image by Getty Images via DaylifeHooray for football on Sundays, how wonderfully distracting. And next week are the playoffs so there will be 2 games each Saturday and Sunday.

It was good to see LaDainian Tomlinson back to his old self, I'd forgotten how fast he was and was afraid his career was over. Brett Favre's career is probably over, and maybe for Tom Brady as well. That would really be a shame because I think he is likely the best quarterback ever, even better than Joe Montana. They say watch and see if the Patriots let Matt Cassel become a free agent or if they keep him and pay him millions. If they keep him it means they are worried about Brady, or know he will not be able to play.

At least it occupies my mind so I don't think about Darcy too much.

Bad Day

Image via WikipediaI realized today that I am walking around like I have a great, big, gaping wound and any sudden movement will cause pain and bleeding. Meaning that I’m OK but fragile.

Depression has really set in and I just keep seeing so many things that I want to tell Darcy about only to realize each time I can’t do that ever again. One thing that really got to me was watching the season ending of Dexter. It was one of our favorite shows and she missed the wrap up. Then they were doing a Highlander marathon on sci fi and Darcy would have loved that, too. I keep thinking if only she had lasted another week. How absurd.

I find myself wandering around, losing track of time. I went over to Best Buy today to see if they had any good post-Xmas deals only to spend several hours just wandering the store, looking at things.

Tomorrow is football day so hopefully I can lose myself in that for most of the day. Maybe even do some work.

The Day After Christmas

Yesterday was a strange day but not an unpleasant one. For the first time in longer than I can remember I was completely alone with absolutely nothing that I had to do and no place I had to be. All great luxuries for me that I enjoyed very much. I spent the day playing computer games, searching all over the web for whatever popped into my head and watching TV. It was also my first stress free day in at least 15 years.

I’m keeping an eye on myself because I’m doing much better than I ever thought I would when Darcy passed on. I’ve had 15 years to think about life AD (After Darcy) and the past year most of all because it was obvious time was running out. Perhaps that prepared me for now. Perhaps I’m just in denial and a full load of grief will suddenly hit me and turn me into jello. I don’t know. I do know that I’m feeling a lot of relief. I know that sounds terrible but when you’ve spent 15 years with a sword over your head to have it over is a relief. Hard to worry about anything when the worst has already happened. I am constantly seeing something where I think I have to tell Darcy about that but I can't do that ever again.

I have been crying a lot, especially when finding something emotional on TV or the Web, like this one; "Please don't divorce us." Photo after photo of families that don’t want to be divorced because Prop 8 passed, and make no mistake the Religious Reich is filing a law suit to have all such marriages done in California annulled. Could there be any better proof that Christianity is a religion of hate?

There were people who had worse Christmases than me. The 6pm news yesterday started out with 2 shootings at Christmas parties with 7 dead and two separate car crashes where the cars flipped over, several dead and several in the hospital in critical condition.

The worst one was Bruce Pardo. He had just gone through a bitter divorce so he went to the house of his ex-inlaws in Covina with 2 guns and a homemade flame thrower and wearing a Santa suit. He knocked on the front door, an eight year old girl opened it and he shot her in the face, then stepped inside shooting everywhere then using the flamethrower, the house eventually burned down. 6 people dead but the 8 year old is expected to survive. His ex and her parents are missing. Bruce then went to his brother’s house and killed himself on the front lawn. Very uncool all around, Brucie. You want to off yourself do it in your own place and don’t take others down with you.

Update: His ex and her parents were found, burnt to a crisp and hard to identify, they had to go by the teeth. Her sister is the only one of the family left. I can understand the kind of despair that brings someone to suicide but I simply can't understand the impulse to take others with you.

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Christmas

This is my first Christmas without Darcy since 1985. Back then we were just dating but she moved in at the end of January, after my sister Wendy & Earl’s wedding, which Darcy arranged. She was always the arranger, she got things done & took care of everyone around her.

Wendy died about 5 years ago and we lost touch with Earl after he moved back to New Mexico, but I sent him an email to an old address that I didn’t even know was still good. But it was and he called last night. It was good to talk to him after all this time, really cheered me up.

Probably the best thing to happen was Allan coming over. I called him Tuesday to let him know we were near the end if he wanted to come out and he did. Unfortunately she died just before he got here, but he stayed a while and we drank a six-pack of beer, ate chips and Allan told his stories. Fortunately, not the same stories he told in art school back in 1971 but new ones. For Allan everything is funny and a story, but it felt really good to laugh. I think it’s been 10 years since I had seen him although we talked on the phone a few times. It’s been months since I had a beer, too.

So Allan and Earl really cheered me up when I needed it. Part of why I think I’m taking this much better than I thought I would. I thought I would be a total basket case when she finally passed away but I’m OK.

And I think a lot of it is that I’ve had 15 years of waiting for this, part of it is that it really was time for her to go. All of last week she was just miserable, at night she couldn’t turn herself over if something hurt or she couldn’t breathe. She was so skinny that it hurt to lay on her ribs and several times she said; “Oh, Bear, I don’t know what I’m going to do.” Meaning that her discomfort was so bad as to be unendurable and she couldn’t do anything to relieve it and was getting ready to call the paramedics. I gave her a vicodin for the pain each time and she was able to sleep but we both knew time was running out.

It's a relief that she isn't suffering any more.

Darcy Is Gone

This was a post I always knew I’d make some day but now it is here. I can’t even say I wish she had stayed longer, life had been pretty miserable for her for some time now, but it still hits hard. I keep looking around and finding all the things I won’t do with or for Darcy again. I pet the cats and tell them Mommy is gone but they don’t understand. I think of something and the first thing I want to do is tell Darcy about it then realize I can never do that again.

She had been getting very weak over the past 2 weeks and by Friday she could not stand at all even when being held. That’s when we called the paramedics to come and take her to the hospital. We knew this was the end, she even told me to call a certain nurse over at dialysis who had the name of a hospice service to use.

By Monday Darcy was losing focus and tuning out of conversations, I thought it was because they had kept giving her morphine when both of us told them not to. With no functioning kidneys it builds up in her system until she starts spacing out. Last time they did that she started coming back by the next day. By the end of Monday she was in the nursing home but her unfocused look was getting worse. I told her I wondered if they had still kept giving her morphine instead of just the vicodin they were supposed to be giving her. She shook her head no and I asked if she was just tired and she shook her head yes.

I stayed with her a couple more hours until her son, Phil could get there to relieve me, I had been with her all day at the hospital and was pretty zonked. The next morning, Tuesday, I went over there, expecting her to be more coherent and she wanted to take a ride to the beach for a few hours. But instead I found her completely non-responsive. I couldn’t even get her to blink yes. The hospice nurse said this was very typical, as if the body puts out it’s own morphine before death that keeps the person from suffering. She said she could tell the end was near by her labored breathing and that she wasn’t suffering by her placid face.

She looked terrible, so bad I can’t even hold it in my memory, that wasn’t my Darcy. My Darcy was alive and vibrant, a force to be reckoned with. The nurse also said she could go at any time or last several days. By 2:30 she was gone, two days before Christsmas, and the world is a far lessor place because of it, but few will ever know that. It’s better that she went quickly but I sure would have liked to have given her that last trip to the beach.

Darcy

I haven't written much in here lately and it's due to depression, I'm just so far down I can't find the energy to write. The problem is because my wife, Darcy, is not feeling very well.

Since she is very, very sick when she feels worse than normal this is not good. I know she doesn't have a lot of time left but she's been bad enough these past few weeks to make me feel like it could be over at any moment.

I feel like crawling under the covers, into a fetal position and burying myself from the rest of the world.

Unfortunately I have obligations, or perhaps it's fortunate that I have them because a big one is taking care of Darcy. She can get out of bed and walk to the bathroom but getting to the kitchen for food is a little tough for her. To make matters even more fun I seem to be developing arthritis in both my hips, which is making walking very painful. Sometimes it's been so bad that *I* can hardly walk and that is the last thing we need. Pain relievers don't seem to be helping much.

Plus I have to do all the shopping and deal with all the other little things in life that comes up, like $350 I just had to spend on my car. It was actually finding the time to get to the repair shop that was the worst problem.

And I have deadlines to meet that won't go away and that's how I pay my rent, I can't just stop doing it.

But I should write in here more often, it's very therapeutic and I'm actually feeling a bit better right now because of writing this post. I write really fast so each blog entry is only about 15 minutes of my time and it's never difficult because the words just flow. And because this isn't something I get paid for there is no pressure on me to do a good job. Although I do feel an obligation to any regular readers I might have.

I also feel an obligation to get the truth out during this election season but that is one I have to let go of at the end of the day too often. But man, is McCain really pissing me off. I thought Bush was a liar but McCain is simply unbelievable. It's as if he knows most of the people he is talking to won't hear any follow ups to what he says to find out it isn't true so he can say anything he wants.

I'll have to make a couple of posts on the election campaign this weekend.

In Defense of Dignity

This was a post that had me in tears reading it:

My mother had pulmonary fibrosis, a degenerative lung condition, and we knew enough about the disease to know that dramatic turns for the worse were a possibility. She knew that pulmonary fibrosis would eventually end her life, and she'd done some research into just what sort of an end she could expect. It wasn't going to be pretty. Her lungs were gradually filling with scar tissue. She would, when her time came, slowly and painfully suffocate to death over a period of hours or days.

Darcy has pulmonary fibrosis so this article really hit home. She too, knew she would likely face death painfully gasping for breath. It isn't just painful, your body automatically goes into panic as you struggle more and more air. She got a lung transplant that extended her life and made it considerably better for quite a long time, but 10 years post transplant the medications have destroyed her kidneys and she is now on dialysis 3 days a week. Her liver is failing too and she has to go in about every 6 weeks for them to drain her stomach from the fluid that fills it from the faulty liver. I don't think she has too much more time left.

How she will die has always been a major concern for her. What she is most afraid of is being put on a vent indefinitely and stashed in some nursing home for years, more vegetable than alive. The one good thing about the kidney failure is that if she does want to give up she can just stop the dialysis, after a couple of weeks she will just fall asleep and not wake up.

People must accept death at "the hour chosen by God," according to Pope Benedict XVI, leader of the Catholic Church, which is pouring money into the campaign against I-1000.

The hour chosen by God? What does that even mean? Without the intervention of man—and medical science—my mother would have died years earlier. And at the end, even without assisted suicide as an option, my mother had to make her choices. Two hours with the mask off? Six with the mask on? Another two days hooked up to machines? Once things were hopeless, she chose the quickest, if not the easiest, exit. Mask off, two hours. That was my mother's choice, not God's.

The author of the article, Dan Savage, lives in Washington state and apparently there is a proposition on the ballot to approve physician assisted suicide. The Pope is spending lots of money in the state fighting it. That's the point of his above comment.

The hour chosen by god is ridiculous nonsense. If Darcy hadn't had a lung transplant 10 years she would likely have been dead 9 years ago. There has been more than one chance of her dying over the past 10 years and she didn't thanks to the doctors and medication and her own fighting spirit. It certainly seems to me that the hour chosen by god has come and gone at least half a dozen times already, which makes it meaningless.

For those who think that is important then don't go a doctor when you get sick because you will be interfering with god's desire to have you dead.