My friends becoming widows and the situation of women getting older alone has consumed my thoughts lately. Of our three visitors to Florida this winter, all had a good support system of family, friends and church/community. Not everyone is so lucky.
I think of my free spirited 70's something film instructor. She has led an interesting life but is estranged from her three daughters. Teaching adult ed classes doesn't pay her living expenses. A grandson took her in temporarily for a few months. Her situation is actually dire. What safety net exists for someone like this who is living on a pittance and charity?
I think of my quirky dog trainer/walker. She is in her 70's, borderline anorexic and fiercely independent. She almost died from pneumonia last winter, was put into the hospital but left AMA. Back again to the hospital, near death's door. Bad judgment. Maybe a lifetime of bad judgment, 3 marriages and no family except a son she doesn't see. At least she has a home and a somewhat reliable income.
I think of my daughter, actually. No children and an older husband. Friends and colleagues, yes, but she tends to be selective about who she associates with. Her only family is 3,000 miles away. She has a few cousins on my husband's side she was never close to. She is financially secure, which helps - greatly.
I think of all this as my husband and I increasingly have medical procedures and appointments. In two days, I'll put Zoey in the vets and travel 30 miles to another city take my husband for a medical procedure. He might be overnight. I hate the idea of driving there at 5 a.m. I hate driving him home. I wonder how long both of us will be able to do this.
Oh well, as one friend, a widow, said, "There's always Uber".
Monday, April 30, 2018
Thursday, April 12, 2018
Death and Dying: 4 hours to remove the body
Life evolves in chunks: the school chunk, the marriage/family chunk, the career chunk, the empty nester chunk, the retirement chunk, the dying chunk.
The Psychologist Eric Erickson stated these life stages more elegantly. I forget all Erickson's stages except the last: integrity versus despair. This is the stage that tries our souls and sears our memories.
Three friends, all widows, visited us this year in Florida. Friends at home are dying, dying all over of course, an inevitable march toward annihilation. That's the despair part. So, I say to myself, don't despair, focus on integrity, there is still much to look forward to.
These past few days were hard. They tried my Integrity. An old college friend who moved to a distant state lost her husband from glioblastoma last December, three months after the diagnosis. The problem with this condition is 1. It is rapid. 2. It is always fatal. The victim is aware of this painful reality and how the condition creates is a moving target of interventions. In the end, it is 24 hour care, not covered by Medicare.
My friend needed to talk, she was still traumatized by it all, she talked about the unreality of losing her husband, saving his clothes in case he needed them when he got out of the hospital. The finality of death. She talked about what she learned about medicare etc and I wish I took notes. But some parts are forever in my memory track.
What happens next
1. Embalming is a disgusting violation of the body, stuffing unnatural substances in your body after disemboweling you. Cremation is now preferred. There are Mauseleums for cremation, something like those cemetaries in Buenos Aires where you have a visiting room near where the body is interred.
2. No wakes are preferred.
3. Costs are exhorbitant for a funeral. My friend spent 25K,including a luncheon. "It's like planning a wedding", she said
4. But here's what keeps me up at night: after a person dies, you must remove the body. To where you ask? That's where pre-planned funerals come in. You have your chosen funeral parlor on your cell, and you call them, say, at 3 a.m. and they will get the body. Otherwise it's 1-800-call a Funeral Director. Or something like that.
The Psychologist Eric Erickson stated these life stages more elegantly. I forget all Erickson's stages except the last: integrity versus despair. This is the stage that tries our souls and sears our memories.
Three friends, all widows, visited us this year in Florida. Friends at home are dying, dying all over of course, an inevitable march toward annihilation. That's the despair part. So, I say to myself, don't despair, focus on integrity, there is still much to look forward to.
These past few days were hard. They tried my Integrity. An old college friend who moved to a distant state lost her husband from glioblastoma last December, three months after the diagnosis. The problem with this condition is 1. It is rapid. 2. It is always fatal. The victim is aware of this painful reality and how the condition creates is a moving target of interventions. In the end, it is 24 hour care, not covered by Medicare.
My friend needed to talk, she was still traumatized by it all, she talked about the unreality of losing her husband, saving his clothes in case he needed them when he got out of the hospital. The finality of death. She talked about what she learned about medicare etc and I wish I took notes. But some parts are forever in my memory track.
What happens next
1. Embalming is a disgusting violation of the body, stuffing unnatural substances in your body after disemboweling you. Cremation is now preferred. There are Mauseleums for cremation, something like those cemetaries in Buenos Aires where you have a visiting room near where the body is interred.
2. No wakes are preferred.
3. Costs are exhorbitant for a funeral. My friend spent 25K,including a luncheon. "It's like planning a wedding", she said
4. But here's what keeps me up at night: after a person dies, you must remove the body. To where you ask? That's where pre-planned funerals come in. You have your chosen funeral parlor on your cell, and you call them, say, at 3 a.m. and they will get the body. Otherwise it's 1-800-call a Funeral Director. Or something like that.
Thursday, April 5, 2018
Death of a son
My husband's college friends are a close group, aided and abetted by a savvy college development office that stays in touch with alums. One person my husband hadn't seen in years became an orthodontist and lived well. Over the years, we heard about him from another classmate. Usually the stories revolved around his sumptuous lifestyle.
Today my husband's college friend called with a different kind of story: this classmate's son had died. My first thought was a car accident, or maybe even cancer. I went on the website of the funeral home in his hometown. Under his name, a smiling red haired youth looked rakeishly at the camera. No information except a church ceremony and private cremation. Nothing about his life except his birthdate and deathdate. No next of kin, a statement about his life, where to call to express condolences. Nada. His age was 45, much older than that smiling youth.
I went to buy a condolence card and the lady at the store pointed one out to me while saying her son had died in January. We never think when we have children that this could be how it will end, us saying goodbye to them forever.
Today my husband's college friend called with a different kind of story: this classmate's son had died. My first thought was a car accident, or maybe even cancer. I went on the website of the funeral home in his hometown. Under his name, a smiling red haired youth looked rakeishly at the camera. No information except a church ceremony and private cremation. Nothing about his life except his birthdate and deathdate. No next of kin, a statement about his life, where to call to express condolences. Nada. His age was 45, much older than that smiling youth.
I went to buy a condolence card and the lady at the store pointed one out to me while saying her son had died in January. We never think when we have children that this could be how it will end, us saying goodbye to them forever.
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