Yearly Archives: 2010

Bonnie Meets Clyde

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date: December 5, 2008

subject: Dad’s in a wonderful hospice facility now . . .
Dear Girlfriends,
I sent this note to a few of you on Wednesday. I don’t know why, but on Wednesday I didn’t feel ready to send it to you all; but you’re all part of the family now, so I thought I should pass it on . . . An update will follow in a few . . . .
And as some of you know, today is my birthday. I’m on my way over to be with Dad. Hannah’s there now. Things have changed and he has one foot in the next life . . . we’re happy he’s sleeping peacefully. Early Wednesday morning he sang Happy Birthday to me . . . we hugged, he talked about my birth . . . I’m very blessed.
love to you all,
Susan
written 12/3/08:
We moved Dad today to St. Mary’s in residence hospice . . . As I was putting Dad’s right leg on the ground in preparation for a transfer from the car to the wheelchair, he said, “I don’t want to go in.” Tears were running down his face. I stopped what I was doing and made room for my sister Jan to sit in the wheelchair, which was right next to the car. Tony sat in the driver’s seat next to Dad and I kneeled in front of him. He talked and cried; we comforted him and hugged him. After a bit he said, “Okay, I’m ready to go in.” He’s so concerned about being “abandoned” inside this place . . . we reassured him that we’re not abandoning him and that if he’s really unhappy there, we’ll figure out a way to be able to bring him home. He said, “I have no doubt that you wouldn’t do that, you ALL have so much gumption.”
My man knew exactly what to say, “Clyde, we all learned it from you. You’re our role model. You’re a very strong man.”
He turned to Tony and said, “Thank you.”
(*)
Poor Dad . . . in September he won a 3-hour tennis match in a national tournament and now he’s essentially a paraplegic with terminal stage 4 cancer . . . it’s been a lot to absorb.
We’re continuing to take it one day at a time . . . right now T and I are scheduled to return on the 11th. I may extend my stay . . . I’ll see.
When we left Dad this late afternoon (Mom’s sleeping over with him on this first night in a new place) he was really looking the worse we’ve seen him . . . he was chilled, then got warm and seemed feverish, he just seemed so . . I don’t really know how to say it . . so, uncomfortable. He said he was in pain but he didn’t know where. His hands were so swollen. We left him with his feet elevated and hands resting on his chest. I hope he and Mom have a restful night . . . will keep you posted.
aloha, Susan
(*) What I didn’t write at the time because it took all I had to simply write what I did, was that once Dad had made up his mind to exit the car and enter what he knew was to be his last resting place, he put on his smile and noticed a nice looking, petite blonde volunteer in a Christmas sweater who had just stepped outside of the building into the bright sunshine. She approached my Dad with a huge grin on her face. Dad, ever the flirt, grinned right back.
“Why hello there!” she said, “I’m Bonnie and I’m happy to meet you.”
“Bonnie,” he said, very matter-of-factly, “Well, you know what my name is, don’t you?”
She looked puzzled and replied, “No, I don’t.”
“Well it’s Clyde, Bonnie.”
They enjoyed a moment, which us outsiders can only imagine. And with that, he entered the hospice facility.
Katie's 14th birthday Thanksgiving 2008

Why Dad Really Wanted to Come Home for Thanksgiving

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For his favorite grand-daughter’s 14th birthday!

A Thanksgiving to Remember

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date: Nov 29, 2008 at 9:16 PM

subject: Aloha from Tennessee
Aloha Girlfriends,
The notes you’ve sent have been beautiful. Mahalo.
Here are excerpts from a few of the emails . . .
Sending much Love & Aloha from California….take care of yourself
and loved ones.Peace be with you and Tony,
Fond Aloha,
Regina
I am sure there will be no better medicine for your dad then to have you there. 
Adie
I am so sorry to hear this news of your Dad. It is a good idea for you to be home with your family now, and I am sure they will find that being together is a huge source of strength for everyone . . .
Love,
Liz
These are the toughest of times….Even when the principals involved are intelligent, knowledgeable, fully aware of what is happening and as positive, pragmatic and prepared as possible, it is still an unbelievably difficult path to walk down.  I know your father is brave and courageous…it’s great that he knows he is well loved and honored…Please tell him of his “fan club” in Hawaii (your mother too) . . Know that you and yours are in our  thoughts daily  and forever in our hearts.
Take care of yourself, Susan and hold Tony close when he arrives in Tennessee . . . This is a most important chapter in your life.
Much love,
Char
Chocolate ice cream and smiles truly can make a world of difference… I am very happy to hear about your dad encouraging the lady and making others laugh, laughter is such good medicine! I especially enjoy the visual of the orange top and Tabasco pants!! It must be so incredibly hard to keep ones spirit up with what he is enduring, but having you there obviously brings joy and consolation. What a “ride” you guys have been on, with all the back and forth about where he was to go and all. Hats off to you and Hannah for insisting on the therapy that your dad should have been receiving, and look where it took him! . . .  I can picture all the family gathered together in that updated kitchen to give thanks for everything your dad has brought into this world, a celebration of his life  . . .
Love,
Jocelyne
Okay, I really am there with you on the “sharing the moment with chocolate ice cream!” And no, it doesn’t get any better than that! We all love you, support you, and are there with you in spirit, holding your hand in the hard moments and celebrating every joyful sharing! Wishing you many more special happy times with your dad and your family,
Love you bunches,
there in spirit,
Katie
Wonderful story of courage and caring . . . Our team is like the Verizon ad. We got your back girlfriend.
Adie
This time with Dad is such a gift . . . that has NOT been lost on all of us.
Thanksgiving Day was an absolutely perfect day. Tony and I went up to the hospital early. The sky was clear, clear blue and the cold temperature of last week (20’s and 30’s) had disappeared and was replaced with a pleasant mid to high 50’s.
Dad was sleeping so peacefully when we arrived that we decided to let him snooze for a while. Did I mention that his window faces the “strip” (the college hang-out of bars and restaurants) with the Smokey Mts. in the distance? As both Tony and Dad dozed, I sat in Dad’s wheelchair and gazed out over the buildings to the mountains. The calm was very pervasive. The peace, all-consuming.
Then suddenly it became time to rise and shine. The skeleton crew at the hospital was comprised of some of the best of the best. The mood was cheerful and happy for Dad that he got the “green light” to head home for the day. Tony trotted off to get the car after we got Dad dressed (and most importantly, catheterized). The transfer to the car didn’t got quite as smoothly as when the PT was looking over our shoulder, but no harm was done (Have I mentioned how Tony has just shone at this position of “captain” of the transfers? His experience with his Dad years ago has come to the front of his memory and his experience has proved to be invaluable). It felt good to sit in the back and see the 2 most important men in my life in the front of the car.
“I’d really love a latte,” Dad said once we pulled out of the hospital porte-cochere. In two shakes we found an open Starbucks (surprise, surprise) and I bopped in to place an order. Lo and behold they even sold a New York Times. Now I could gift both of my 2 favorite men.
Standing in line I noticed a father and son in bicycle riding garb. That’s nice, I thought. I glanced up and thought, I know that face, don’t I? “Excuse me, I think we might have gone to high school together . . .” Before I could finish the statement, he shouted, “Susan!” It was Preston, an all-round nice guy, always had been. He and his son had ridden to the strip from west Knoxville. After some fun hugs and general joviality the coffee was ready and I joined my guys.
We gave Dad a small tour down memory lane, part of the campus, the main boulevard with all the high falutin houses, his son’s pest control office/house, the old house we lived in when I was born, the house his brother used to live in. We were just about to turn right up the steep hill to Mom and Dad’s house when he yelled, “Keep going! Turn left, here. Here!” Safely landed in the Bugg’s driveway, Dad was immediately surrounded by lots of Buggs, the good kind.
Dr. Bugg (retired head of the Physics Dept. at The U of Tenn.) turned to me and asked, “Head nurse Susan, he requested a glass of red. Is that okay?”
“I reckon,” I replied.
More hugs and hellos followed and the party expanded as more neighbors joined us. Soon my Mom even came down the road to join in the fun.
Fortunately before we could wear Dad out before he even made it into the house, the cool air decreed that it was time to move on. The glass was returned (still half full) and Tony drove the patriarch home as Mom and I dragged ourselves up the steep hill.
The rest of the day was right out of a movie; family gathered one by one. Hugs, kisses, quiet tears and LOTS and LOTS of photos (my sister Jan found her calling with Creative Memories).  The family had arranged the dining table so that Dad could still sit at the head, the food turned out perfectly . . . it was just a wonderful day.

Fast forward to 6 p.m. It’d been 7.5 hours since he was catheterized and he’s supposed to be “drained” every 4 to 6 hours. It was time for either to take Dad back or to get down to business. Tony asked, Dad said he’d think about it. Jan asked and Dad said,” I guess I should go back.” But darn it if that Jan didn’t intuit what Dad really meant, “I’d like to stay but I don’t want to put ya’ll out.” So she proceeded to say what needed to be said with charm, style and a heap of real compassion. The next thing we knew, I was crouched in middle of Mom and Dad’s huge bed next to Dad. Hannah was standing next to the bed opening the catheterizing packet. I found myself repeating what the nurses had told us over several instructional sessions, “Don’t touch anything else with that hand now that you have the sterile glove on, and on and on . . . . “ Hannah took a big breath, asked Dad, “Are you alright with this?” He simply nodded as he kept his eyes tightly shut. Okay, Hannah began and
we all began to coach her (much easier to do than the REAL thing!). I looked up and to my right and felt like I was in a tiny amphitheater. There was Mom, Dayton and Jan. Dad’s wife and four children were all with him as we watched BIG sister play the role of head nurse. Amazing. We never could have predicted such a scene. Maybe that one of us would need to do this. But that ALL of us would be there???? And it was all so positive. Only words of encouragement were shouted out on this stage. But when’s it going to come? When’s the urine going to start to flow? We all watched and held our breath as she slowly, slowing kept inserting the Christmas red tube. “There it is!” we all shouted in unison. You would have thought that the Martians had just landed, that’s how loudly we yelled. Then we could relax and just want for Dad’s bladder to empty.
And the next scene is the clincher, the scene-stealer. Once Dad was cleaned up and made presentable, Mom crawled up beside Dad, each was lying on their side and facing the other–two long lost lovers so happy to finally be together. “Now this is what I’ve been wanting, “ said Dad. We unplugged the phone and crept out to give Mom and Dad an hour together before we had to make ready and return to the hospital.

Sigh. Yes, there was not a dry eye in the house.

Oh, and to add to the moment, my girlfriend Katie called right during this fabulous scene of family taking care of dear old Dad. Thanks Katie for calling right then. You somehow added a sense of reality and connection to the world at large, plus, we both know that you’re my third sister . . . .
Love to you all. Thanks for taking the time to read my ramblings and please excuse me for not proofing or even re-reading this before I hit send.
aloha,
Susan

How Can They Know When I Just Found Out?

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date: Mon, Nov 25, 2008 at 9:16 PM

subject: Aloha again from Tennessee
Hi Girlfriends,
I hope this missive finds you all well and happy. Best wishes also for a Happy Thanksgiving.
I thought I would send an update on my Dad.
It’s been a good week at the Patricia Neal Rehab Center. Dad even got to meet the movie star herself (Patricia Neal, in case you didn’t know) when she stopped by on Friday to say hello to all the rehab patients. Tony and my sister Hannah arrived just in time to join us and we have a wonderful picture of the entire gang.
We had a large print made and it’s on Dad’s very large board directly across from his bed. The board is slowly getting filled with all kinds of photos of his grandchildren and well wishes from cousins.
Then this past Saturday evening Dad was a little more tired than normal. He’d been freezing for several days, so we brought out the long john top and layered him with many fuzzy tops. Sunday he slept practically the entire day and we thought he seemed very hot to the touch (Hannah and I held guard on either side of Dad, we’ve become very protective with our dear old pop). A temp was taken and sure enough he had a temperature (102.2). The next thing we knew the medical staff was on all alert: tylenol to lower the temp, an x-ray to examine his lungs . . . The next day we learned that he has a slight case of pneumonia in his left lung. He’s now on antibiotics and the chemo is on hold. Yes, his temperature dropped almost immediately due to the Tylenol.
Fast forward to Monday morning and you’ll find Hannah and me at his side again in the early morning. Hannah was on her way to get some scrambled eggs and a biscuit and jelly for Dad when she noticed a doctor with Dad’s chart. He and two hospital big wigs were discussing something very seriously. Hannah asked, “Are you talking about Dad?” (He’s become EVERYONE’s Dad btw). “Yes,” they replied (practically in unison). “Did you know it says FULL CODE on his chart?” “No, what’s that?”  So, we proceeded to find out that Dad ‘s chart had instructions for full resuscitation and full shocks upon his heart stopping . . . The nice doctor (not THE nice doctor, this doctor sends his dad to THE very nice doctor, but this one is very good too) pulled up a chair and proceeded to make himself very comfortable. He took his time to talk about all kinds of things before he got to the heart of the matter. He explained to Dad what his chart said, Dad replied that of course he wants that. The nice doctor talked about how dignified Dad’s life has been, being in the war, all the good things he’s done and how his death should be dignified as well . . .
Dad slumped down in his chair . . Hannah asked if Dad wouldn’t like to discuss all this with Mom, he nodded,“Yes.” We called Mom and they discussed it. She later told me that she would stand by whatever decision he made. Dad said that he trusts the doctor’s opinion and said that he wanted to change the code.
After the doctor left, Dad said to Hannah and me, “Now who’s going to get those eggs?” Hannah jumped up and said, “I will!”
After she left, Dad and I were quietly sitting alone. He said, “Please tell Katie and Logan (his youngest grandchildren) that I’m very sick and I’m going to die.”
“They know that already, Dad” I replied.
“How can they when I just found out?” he said.
So, my Dad had not really comprehended the severity of his illness. And my sister and I agree that that was fine. He’s been taking it all in as he’s ready. Also, he had prostate cancer 10 years ago, had radiation and a very radical surgery and completely kicked it. His psa always measures 0.0. So, Dad just thought he’d kick this cancer too. The doctor also told him that this particular type of cancer isn’t curable. Unlike the prostate cancer which was.
So, fast forward to today. Tony and I arrived bright and early and had a perfectly ripe avocado for Dad. We even had the vinegar and hot sauce to go with. We three gathered round, Dad ate and Tony serenaded us with his ukulele–pleasant tunes including the Tennessee Waltz. Afterwards we practiced and passed helping Dad make the transfer into Mom’s Avalon–this is in preparation of taking Dad home for Thanksgiving (he can go home as long as he doesn’t have a fever again, please pray for the green light to go home on Thursday, also Katie’s 14th birthday, mahalo).
And this afternoon my sister Jan, Tony and I got training in how to give Dad a bath when at home.
Tones and I left with Dad in his wheelchair with Mom and Jan by his side. We hear that more visitors came after we left . . .
Tony just stepped in the room and says “Howdy” to you all!
So, that’s the update from Tennessee. We’re continuing to enjoy precious moments with Dad. And we’ll keep enjoying them for however long they last.
Thank you all for your warm thoughts and prayers.
aloha,
Susan
p.s. I also asked the other nice doctor on Monday if we should just bring Dad home on Thursday and then start hospice. He said that he thinks we should ride the Patricia Neal train for as long as we can (Dad’s able to participate) and then when Dad says he wants to go home, go home!!!
***Here I am with Dad just after he was awarded a medal for participating in the therapy sessions.
You think he looks unhappy?  Well, he was.
Just a few weeks before he’d won a match in a national tennis tournament, and now he’s being given a medal just for participating?
Fortunately, he was able to rally and change his outlook . . . though he remained saddened by all he has lost.

The Patriarch

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Here’s one of my Dad’s favorite shots of himself as a kid.
He specifically asked us to put this photo up on the board, which was directly across from his bed. He seemed to get an absolute kick out of thinking that that scrawny, youngest born had become the Patriarch of the family.
“Who would of thunk?,” I’d hear him occasionally chuckle under his breath.
Yep, who would have?
Tennessee turkey

Who Wants Ice-cream?

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date: Tues, Nov 18, 2008
subject: Mahalo Wonderful Friends!!!
Wow!
How can I thank you ALL for your wonderful words of support? How fortunate we all are to have each other in our lives.
Bevin’s note painted a picture, which I will continue to carry around with me, “Thanks for the update Susan! It’s like we’re right there with you holding your hand. Your report had it all. Thank you for letting us in on your dad’s health.”
I feel you all around me (holding my hand, giving warm hugs and great big smiles). And whenever the next difficult moment comes, I’ll look up and then turn around and “see” you all there with me. Mahalo.
Today Dad awoke in the most despondent mood I’ve seen since this all began on September 28th. We spoke on the phone and my sister Hannah called him too to encourage him. Later I walked into the therapy room to see him sitting in a wheelchair wearing his bright orange fleece top and Tabasco/red chilies pants batting a balloon over a net to other spinal chord injured patients. He was making jokes and making them all laugh; he was encouraging the lady directly across from him (there were 3 people on either side of the net) who was having an especially difficult time. He rejoiced with her when she was able to hit it several times in a row and then knock it over the net.
Later as he wheeled himself back to his room, he said, “You know, I’ve had a complete turn around since this morning . . . Can you show me where they keep the ice cream?” He then wheeled himself up to the fridge in the dining room, which is at the far end of the long hallway directly down from his room. We sat together and looked out over Knoxville and the bright orange fall leaves and ate our chocolate ice cream. It was a beautiful moment. Heck, it doesn’t get much better than that–sitting with my content father AND sharing chocolate ice cream.
Love to you all,
Susan
p.s. oh, and last week my cousin from NYC flew to Charlotte and drove in with his sister, their mom, his sister’s 2 year old and a 4.5 month old . . . and my other sister with her husband and 2 kids were here . . . the doctor had said NOW’s the time to visit while he feels well enough . . . and anything could happen any minute. It was so great having them all here. And Mom and Dad’s house somehow held us all. And Dad saw a real reason to be positive, etc. He’s become the patriarch of the family and surrogate grand pops to MANY! and so it goes . . .
Smokey Mountain Stream

Choices Arose from the Ashes

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date: Mon, Nov 17, 2008 at 9:16 PM

Dear Girlfriends (and cousin J.),
Mahalo for the nice card from the bookclub ladies to my Dad. He was very appreciative.
And mahalo for all your well wishes and prayers.
Here’s an update. This afternoon Dad was moved from Park West Hospital to Patricia Neal Rehab Center.This was quite an upset to the predictions of last week . . . Without going into all of the details, it’s been a roller coaster ride. Where could Dad go after leaving the hospital? First choice was the brand new VA place; they denied him and we were told that EVERY skilled care or long-term care place would deny him because he’s on PO chemotherapy (pill da kine). We were told we should bring him home. Positive-attitude-me looked at all the ways this could be possible . . . and we tried to wrap our heads around that (not too easy since Dad’s non-ambulatory, etc.). One day at breakfast there were NO options and by lunch we had possibly two. I wrote letters to senators, etc. about the VA–still to no avail but when my sister and I went over there to play the role of bad cop/good cop (long story) they pulled out a file a mile high on him. And why do they have that if they’re denying him . . . ? Anyway, we found a place, he was going there on Friday and then this thing came up (remember, this is the SHORT version). It’s all fine now, but he did have to go off the chemo and food for a few days. He’s now on soft food, chemo should start tomorrow. And in the meantime, he lost his space at that place (very close to my parents’ house).
But here’s the kicker. Since he was in a hospital, therapy was intermittent. My sister and I have been squeaky wheels, so guess what, he had therapy every morning after we squeaked. And get this, he walked 42 steps one day (with a walker and two PT nurses on either side and me in back with the wheel chair for when he got tired), 60 something the next day, 120 something the day after that! and then after a day off he walked 167 steps! So, the staff took notice and lo and behold Patricia Neal Rehab Center said today at 2:15 p.m. they’d take him on a trial basis (5 to 7 days to see if he can handle 3 hours a day of therapy). And I had to give them a decision before 3 because the other facility would only hold his bed till then. I called and left messages with the Mr. Incredibly Wonderful doctor’s phone message centers . . . thought it over, called my sister and thought it over with her . . . and decided, let’s go for it. I gave Dad the scoop, and the bottom line is that if he turned down this chance, a second one wouldn’t come his way. The rehab place wouldn’t take him from a nursing home . . . and if it doesn’t work and he can’t handle it, he can go to that facility (when they have a space, that’s the kicker, the one available Friday was lost, then magically one appeared Monday afternoon, so I’m just believing that another one will magically appear when it’s needed). And the long shot is that Dad can keep improving and maybe be able to come home at some point. We’ll see.
He does have stage 4 cancer (which simply means it’s spread to many areas including the pancreas). But my Dad’s not your average bear. Also, the steroids they’re giving him to keep the swelling in his spinal column down is masking the affects of the cancer and helping to boost his mood (per the doctor and remember how they—steroids—helped Fido 4 years ago?).
So, that’s the deal, pickle.
And in the middle of all this my Mom has gotten new kitchen cabinets, and appliances . . . I think the distraction is doing her good. So after all day at the hospital, we’ve been putting things in drawers. Tonight we were too pooped though to do so . . . so it’s to bed early.
And, it’s COLD!
And I know Tony’s home literally working his okole off . . . and he’s gotten a cold to boot; he’s working so hard so that he can leave Wed. night to join up with me.
Thanks for reading this very long missive and mostly MAHALO for all your prayers. My Dad keeps touching people everywhere he goes. The two physical therapists both were in tears the other day when he hit 126 steps. You should have seen all the people coming by to say bye to him at the hospital (the staff, nurses, etc.) and then to come back to Pat Neal and have people remember him is cool too.
We hope to be able to bring him home for a few hours next week on Thanksgiving . . . please send good thoughts that way too.
Oh, and today he gave his 66 year old bamboo fly fishing pole to the incredibly wonderful doctor . . . he was very moved by it . . . and today is my dad’s 65th anniversary of being enlisted as a lieutenant in the army . . . have I been gone for a year already? It sure feels like it.
Love and kisses and aloha,
Susan