Julia
I'm certain that, like stalks out of a grass hut, many people could easily pull out, carry over, and fit at least one aspect -- if not more -- of the following heavyweight but unavoidable medical crisis into situations of their own, past, present, or potentially.
For nearly 43 years I've had a mother-in-law, or a "m-i-l" as that title is abbreviated in online-speak. She is, like her mother was and like her daughter is, quite a quaint and agreeable lady. I have never had any points of contention with her, except possibly when, after visiting us in D.C. one year, she and her mother returned to sunny Florida and then phoned back to complain that we kept our house far too cold to be raising a child in it. That and other observations, including even a threat, didn't sit well with my wife, Esther. Except for that one clash, which didn't last long, everything always went well with my wife's mother.
But now, at age 82, only six years older than me (my wife is 12 years my junior), my mother-in-law is not even on her last legs. At a therapy center not far from her home in the Gainesville area of Florida, gangrene has set into both her legs, especially in the left. A few days ago, an operation was thought necessary, involving amputation, but then it was decided that she was too far gone with other severe conditions to risk it. She also has an advanced stage of breast cancer, plus she has had several strokes that have left her partially paralyzed, and now the discussions whirling around her are mainly about hospice. My wife says that the only device that is keeping her mother alive, outside of the built-in reluctance to leave, is the feeding tube, but the voices on that tend to be more hushed.
Just recently my wife retired, by chance at nearly the same time that both her mother and her stepfather entered the hospital, which they did on the same day. But her stepfather only had to have some minor back surgery, and he returned home the next day, and now, at 85, he is facing the harsh and painful idea of losing his wife of 55 years and being left alone.
My wife stopped working just in time, so far, to spend most of her retirement down in distant Florida, tending to her parents, and in recent months I have seen her only for a couple of stretches of about two weeks each. After she began her latest stay in Florida she said it could be a month or more before I'll see her again.
I thought I was used to being alone, but now I'm not so sure, and one of the reasons I had dreaded her retiring was because it was possible that I woudn't be seeing that much of her. She is a member of a group of ladies with each of whom, at different times, she has taken extensive trips abroad, the longest being five weeks in Kenya and Holland, while their more level-headed husbands stayed at home. And in the intervals they spend a lot of time speaking of new trips across the oceans.
But this thing with my mother-in-law is something else.
Yesterday, her stepfather having left the decision to her, my wife, unable to bear seeing her mother go through any more of these travails, asked that the feeding tube be removed. The estimate is that the final stage will take from a few to at most 20 days.
My mother-in-law knows what's happening, though it's as impossible to know all of what's in her mind now as it was when she was in the best of health.
Yesterday, while clutching a small teddybear she said to it, "We"re dying."
For nearly 43 years I've had a mother-in-law, or a "m-i-l" as that title is abbreviated in online-speak. She is, like her mother was and like her daughter is, quite a quaint and agreeable lady. I have never had any points of contention with her, except possibly when, after visiting us in D.C. one year, she and her mother returned to sunny Florida and then phoned back to complain that we kept our house far too cold to be raising a child in it. That and other observations, including even a threat, didn't sit well with my wife, Esther. Except for that one clash, which didn't last long, everything always went well with my wife's mother.
But now, at age 82, only six years older than me (my wife is 12 years my junior), my mother-in-law is not even on her last legs. At a therapy center not far from her home in the Gainesville area of Florida, gangrene has set into both her legs, especially in the left. A few days ago, an operation was thought necessary, involving amputation, but then it was decided that she was too far gone with other severe conditions to risk it. She also has an advanced stage of breast cancer, plus she has had several strokes that have left her partially paralyzed, and now the discussions whirling around her are mainly about hospice. My wife says that the only device that is keeping her mother alive, outside of the built-in reluctance to leave, is the feeding tube, but the voices on that tend to be more hushed.
Just recently my wife retired, by chance at nearly the same time that both her mother and her stepfather entered the hospital, which they did on the same day. But her stepfather only had to have some minor back surgery, and he returned home the next day, and now, at 85, he is facing the harsh and painful idea of losing his wife of 55 years and being left alone.
My wife stopped working just in time, so far, to spend most of her retirement down in distant Florida, tending to her parents, and in recent months I have seen her only for a couple of stretches of about two weeks each. After she began her latest stay in Florida she said it could be a month or more before I'll see her again.
I thought I was used to being alone, but now I'm not so sure, and one of the reasons I had dreaded her retiring was because it was possible that I woudn't be seeing that much of her. She is a member of a group of ladies with each of whom, at different times, she has taken extensive trips abroad, the longest being five weeks in Kenya and Holland, while their more level-headed husbands stayed at home. And in the intervals they spend a lot of time speaking of new trips across the oceans.
But this thing with my mother-in-law is something else.
Yesterday, her stepfather having left the decision to her, my wife, unable to bear seeing her mother go through any more of these travails, asked that the feeding tube be removed. The estimate is that the final stage will take from a few to at most 20 days.
My mother-in-law knows what's happening, though it's as impossible to know all of what's in her mind now as it was when she was in the best of health.
Yesterday, while clutching a small teddybear she said to it, "We"re dying."
posted by Carl (aka Sofarsogoo) | 7:54 AM
1 Comments:
Your wife is obviously a very strong, loving woman. I can't imagine having the strength to make such a difficult decision even though it is obviously the kindest. My thoughts are with all 4 of you in this difficult time.
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