quick updates
In the last installment of As The Stomach Turns, my godmother Georgia was newly moved to hospice care. She'd rallied from the stage 4 bone cancer a while back, and seemed to be responding to chemo, but two weeks ago she fell at home and fractured an arm badly. When they went into surgery to pin her back together, they discovered she was chock-full of tumors. She was estimated to be more tumor than healthy, in fact. They decided in light of her total renal failure, the new, aggressively-expanding tumors, and her liver also circling the drain from all the chemo, that it was time to stop treatment and embrace hospice.
More details inside the cuts. Depressing as hell, be warned.
We went to visit Georgia last Wednesday, the day she moved to the hospice. In all honesty, she looked like she had been dragged through hell facedown, and was so drugged up and weak she could not talk audibly. She was obviously tracking what was going on though. I cried through most of the visit. It’s one of the traits I hate worst about myself- if you get me into an environment where people are crying, I will invariably start weeping too. I can bawl my eyes out at funerals for people I don’t even know. In fact, I have done so on many occasions. There was a whole lot of crying going on in that place, which sunk me hardcore.
We both talked to her, told her we loved her- we could see her lips moving, trying to say “love you” to us. Mom was able to maintain her composure until we got outside afterward; then she cried a little as we stood on the front steps of the hospice and hugged. Dad told me later she cried more at home after I’d left. Me? I stopped at the liquor store on the way home and had a few strong tequila-containing drinks that night. Not the most graceful impulse, but it did stop me from crying all evening.
Georgia died around 2 AM on Saturday morning; her husband Dick was there with her at the end. She was 59 years old.
Last night was Georgia’s wake- Sally and Mom and Ethan and I went while Dad took the little girls for the evening. It was at one of the older funeral homes in Anoka, and about half of Anoka was there, too.
The wake was (mercifully) a closed-casket affair, and they filled the place with pictures of her with all her loved ones doing all the things she loved to do. It was a good time, as much as funereal rites can be. So we ran around chatting with people, and hugging everyone, and came out of there feeling OK. We had dinner at TGI Friday’s afterward, and told Ethan stories about Georgia because he did not know her that well, and were grateful to have known such a wonderful lady.
The funeral was today. I could not get off of work, but Mom and Sally went. I'm sure one will be calling me soon to rehash it.
Ethan’s working tonight, so I am going to try to get stuff pulled together for our jaunt to Lanesboro tomorrow night. It is his mom Nancy’s birthday tomorrow, and it’s also their neighbor’s annual lobster feast on Saturday. Tons of fresh lobster, flown in especially from Boston that AM, and lots of other good food, and live swing music and dancing- should be a hellova party. I need to get Nancy’s present wrapped, and get my stuff all packed, and get some cooking done so we have leftovers ready for lunches when we return on Sunday night.
I'm really ready to get out of town for a while. I need a break.
More details inside the cuts. Depressing as hell, be warned.
We went to visit Georgia last Wednesday, the day she moved to the hospice. In all honesty, she looked like she had been dragged through hell facedown, and was so drugged up and weak she could not talk audibly. She was obviously tracking what was going on though. I cried through most of the visit. It’s one of the traits I hate worst about myself- if you get me into an environment where people are crying, I will invariably start weeping too. I can bawl my eyes out at funerals for people I don’t even know. In fact, I have done so on many occasions. There was a whole lot of crying going on in that place, which sunk me hardcore.
We both talked to her, told her we loved her- we could see her lips moving, trying to say “love you” to us. Mom was able to maintain her composure until we got outside afterward; then she cried a little as we stood on the front steps of the hospice and hugged. Dad told me later she cried more at home after I’d left. Me? I stopped at the liquor store on the way home and had a few strong tequila-containing drinks that night. Not the most graceful impulse, but it did stop me from crying all evening.
Georgia died around 2 AM on Saturday morning; her husband Dick was there with her at the end. She was 59 years old.
Last night was Georgia’s wake- Sally and Mom and Ethan and I went while Dad took the little girls for the evening. It was at one of the older funeral homes in Anoka, and about half of Anoka was there, too.
The wake was (mercifully) a closed-casket affair, and they filled the place with pictures of her with all her loved ones doing all the things she loved to do. It was a good time, as much as funereal rites can be. So we ran around chatting with people, and hugging everyone, and came out of there feeling OK. We had dinner at TGI Friday’s afterward, and told Ethan stories about Georgia because he did not know her that well, and were grateful to have known such a wonderful lady.
The funeral was today. I could not get off of work, but Mom and Sally went. I'm sure one will be calling me soon to rehash it.
Ethan’s working tonight, so I am going to try to get stuff pulled together for our jaunt to Lanesboro tomorrow night. It is his mom Nancy’s birthday tomorrow, and it’s also their neighbor’s annual lobster feast on Saturday. Tons of fresh lobster, flown in especially from Boston that AM, and lots of other good food, and live swing music and dancing- should be a hellova party. I need to get Nancy’s present wrapped, and get my stuff all packed, and get some cooking done so we have leftovers ready for lunches when we return on Sunday night.
I'm really ready to get out of town for a while. I need a break.