Another Week: Number 55
Monday was the last time Amy got out of bed, and that took a tremendous effort.
Tuesday morning was Amy’s first visit from her hospice CNA. Until she was here, I wasn’t entirely clear on what a CNA did, so I figured Tuesdays and Thursdays would be enough. But then with Amy unable to stand, I asked for the full five days a week.
Tuesday afternoon, Amy told me, “I’m dying, Mark.” I reported this to her sister in a text, and shortly after that seven of her family members were gathered in our living room.
“So you’re coming to see if I’m actually dying?” she asked.
At first, everyone kept things hushed, as I had requested. There were tears and gentle hugs and expressions of love. Eyes met and exchanged that helpless acknowledgment of grief.
Eventually and inevitably, though, there was some vehement criticism of that Jardiance commercial and discussion of Kenosha restaurants going out of business.
Amy’s family left around 5:30, and I was left with a Jardiance earworm that would not quit. That jingle alternated in my head with Bruce Springsteen’s “Sherry Darling,” an equally inconsequential ditty. The two songs circled my brain when I did laundry, or shoveled the snow, or wiped down the kitchen countertop for the rest of the week.
On Wednesday, two of our nephew’s daughters visited. Waiting for them to arrive, I put a concert by Jason Isbell — Amy’s favorite — on our TV. She frowned, shook her head, and asked for some classical music, maybe. I switched to Bach’s Brandenburg Concertos, but that was still too peppy.
“Do you have any music for dying?” Amy asked. So I found Bach’s Cello Suites, and that was our background for the great nieces’ visit.
Alone together, Amy and I have had some somber conversations in the dark, in the wee hours. We had one later on Wednesday with another visitor. Nothing has ever pulled that catch of reality in my throat like that discussion of my wife’s cremation with my wife and our hospice social worker.
Thursday morning, Amy’s hospice nurse drained a liter of fluid from her abdomen via her new PleurX Catheter System.
Between Amy’s illness and my mom’s inability to climb stairs, we hadn’t seen my mother in person in over six months. The separation was tearing her up, so on Thursday afternoon my crazy sister Karen rented a trusty Mobile Stairlift once again and brought our mom to Amy’s bedside. It was a moving hour.
Saturday, following the snowstorm, Karen was back again to assist me in our new normal as amateur weekend CNAs. I watched a few YouTube videos, she offered her insights from helping our mom, and we did okay. Having a second person makes a huge difference, and Karen has made a huge difference through this in numerous ways.
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Lake of the Shining Arrow: A History of Brown’s Lake, by Carol DeMarco
At the end of September, Amy and I spent a couple of hours sitting at Brown’s Lake, 22 miles west of us, just east of Burlington.
At the end of December, I purchased Lake of the Shining Arrow: A History of Brown’s Lake for my Kindle, and I read it here and there when I could not sleep, or during some quiet time in the early morning.
It’s an odd little book, published in 2014. The author, Burlington Historial Society member Carol DeMarco, tells the lake’s history in the voice of the lake as well as 17 other narrators. The effect is kind of like a puppet show, and it’s not very clear which words, if any, are actual quotes and which words are her projections.
Nevertheless, Brown’s Lake has an interesting history, including a band of early partiers that camped on the lake’s “Island Wild,” a period of luxurious resorts featuring big-name entertainers like Jack Benny as well as Chicago crime figures, winters spent cutting the frozen lake into neat blocks to meet Chicago’s refrigeration needs, a summer camp for handicapped children, and various threats to the lake’s ecology.
Hunt for the Wilderpeople (2016)
While we wait in our living room for death to part us, we have too much time and too little attention to devote to our TV. I searched for a “warm relaxing movie to stream,” got a Rotten Tomatoes list of 150 Great Feel-Good Movies to Stream Now, chose Number 17, and watched it on Netflix.
We love director Taika Waititi’s Reservation Dogs, Sam Neill is a familiar face, and the reviews promised something lighthearted with imagination.
The reviews were right. There’s an unusual couple in mysterious rural New Zealand. They foster an undisciplined teen. There are dogs. There is adventure and plenty of humor.
Amy followed it and smiled now and then. I smirked as well.
Time passed fairly easily.
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