I'm now 39 years old. Ta daaaaa! It's been a pretty good day. There have been cards, Myspace and Facebook B-day wishes, phone calls, and a showering of gifts from my beloved wife and son. We ate lunch at my favorite noodle house, I had a little nap this afternoon, and life is pretty darned good.
Usually, I get very introspective around my birthday, thinking about my life and how I've been living it, how I want to live it in the future. Today seems different, though. After going through everything with my Dad this past month, it feels like I've already looked inwards and made that yearly assessment. I have my goals, my plans, my dreams. I know who I am and what I stand for. I have my feet beneath me, and I'm standing strongly, supported by my own strength, and that of my friends and family.
So today was kind of a goofy, do-whatever-I-want kind of day for me. It's kind of refreshing, actually. I've read an entire Robert B. Parker book this evening, just because I wanted to. I've scared the bejeebers out of a few shrieky teenagers when they came to the door to Trick-Or-Treat. And I'm blogging just because I feel like it. My friends, I'm feeling very, very happy to simply BE...I'm relaxed, and enjoying each moment.
I will make one introspective comment, though. I'm 39 today. My father married my mother when he was 40. It seems to me that there's a whole lot of living that can be packed into 40 years, no matter how old you are when you start...Dad proved that. So rather than lamenting the loss of my youth, I'm looking forward to all the fun stuff I've got coming my way!
Happy Halloween, folks. Go do something fun!
Friday, October 31, 2008
The Scooter Saga Continues...
My scooter is now in Maryland. Dang it. Let me explain...
Using a cool internet site called uship.com, I hired the lowest bidder to ship my scooter from Indiana to Texas. It was a small "Mom and Pop" type shipper with a girl handling the front desk and the guy driving the truck. There were many positive feedback comments for this guy, and just a few negative or neutral, but the overall impression I got was OK. For the price, I figured it was worth a shot. I paid him half of the shipping fee via Paypal.
"Howie" came on the day he said he would, and Mom surreptitiously wrote down all the identifying numbers on his truck "just in case." He carefully loaded the scooter, and I figured he'd be showing up last weekend sometime. Mom had noticed that, rather than using a truck with the name of his business, he was using a Penske rental truck. Hmmmm. Not a good sign.
I called a week later and left a message, saying that I needed to know when he'd be here so that I could be waiting, cash in hand. Amazingly, he called me right back and told me that there was a problem. He'd had a heart attack, and was getting ready to go into the hospital. "Wow, that's terrible!! I hope you'll be OK...um...where's my scooter?" He said that, due to his heart attack, he had kept the rental truck out longer than expected, and they had come and gotten it. With the scooter inside. And here's the rental company's name and phone number.
So I called the number, and spoke with Jim at Cumberland Towing/Penske Rental in Maryland. He asked what I'd been told, and when I related Howie's story, he simply replied, "That guy is full of dog doo doo. He owes us a ton of money for this rental truck, more for trucks rented from Uhaul and more from Hertz."
Oh. Crap. The guy was making money shipping things for folks, but not paying for the rental trucks. He's now got federal warrants out for his arrest, and my scooter is still in Maryland. The good news is that Jim carefully cataloged the stuff in the truck, and has been working with me on getting my scooter released from the state police, and is now keeping it safe for me on his premises. Now, I just need to get a decent shipper who will actually get the thing here...but not one who's headed for jail.
So there you have it. It's unfortunate that I picked the wrong guy to bring the scooter, but I'm glad that it's safe and sound. It will eventually make its way here. I'll keep you posted.
Using a cool internet site called uship.com, I hired the lowest bidder to ship my scooter from Indiana to Texas. It was a small "Mom and Pop" type shipper with a girl handling the front desk and the guy driving the truck. There were many positive feedback comments for this guy, and just a few negative or neutral, but the overall impression I got was OK. For the price, I figured it was worth a shot. I paid him half of the shipping fee via Paypal.
"Howie" came on the day he said he would, and Mom surreptitiously wrote down all the identifying numbers on his truck "just in case." He carefully loaded the scooter, and I figured he'd be showing up last weekend sometime. Mom had noticed that, rather than using a truck with the name of his business, he was using a Penske rental truck. Hmmmm. Not a good sign.
I called a week later and left a message, saying that I needed to know when he'd be here so that I could be waiting, cash in hand. Amazingly, he called me right back and told me that there was a problem. He'd had a heart attack, and was getting ready to go into the hospital. "Wow, that's terrible!! I hope you'll be OK...um...where's my scooter?" He said that, due to his heart attack, he had kept the rental truck out longer than expected, and they had come and gotten it. With the scooter inside. And here's the rental company's name and phone number.
So I called the number, and spoke with Jim at Cumberland Towing/Penske Rental in Maryland. He asked what I'd been told, and when I related Howie's story, he simply replied, "That guy is full of dog doo doo. He owes us a ton of money for this rental truck, more for trucks rented from Uhaul and more from Hertz."
Oh. Crap. The guy was making money shipping things for folks, but not paying for the rental trucks. He's now got federal warrants out for his arrest, and my scooter is still in Maryland. The good news is that Jim carefully cataloged the stuff in the truck, and has been working with me on getting my scooter released from the state police, and is now keeping it safe for me on his premises. Now, I just need to get a decent shipper who will actually get the thing here...but not one who's headed for jail.
So there you have it. It's unfortunate that I picked the wrong guy to bring the scooter, but I'm glad that it's safe and sound. It will eventually make its way here. I'll keep you posted.
Saturday, October 18, 2008
Endings and Beginnings. Goodbye, Dad.
I’m backtracking a bit here. I’ll get to the funeral in a moment, but first, I wanted to share some feelings from my that last day I got to spend with my Dad.
Wednesday, October 8, 2008
This morning was to be the last time I’d see my Dad alive. We both knew it, and as unpleasant a situation as it was, we had found peace within it. Dad’s sisters, brother, and niece were due to arrive in the afternoon, and I knew he was looking forward to seeing them. He was comfortable, happy, and very glad to be back in his own home with his dog, Ricco, continually stepping all over him as he lay in bed.
I packed up my things, and talked to Dad. We called my wife and son, and they had a chance to talk with him a bit. It was hard to understand him without his teeth, but I got choked up when I heard Dad telling my son that he loved him, as loud as possible, while my son chattered away on the other end.
All too soon, it was simply time for me to leave. I came in to talk to him one last time.
“Hey, did you find a way to get that scooter home?” Dad began.
“Yeah, Dad. I hired a guy to bring it to me.”
“That’s good…I wanted you to have it. Don’t get cocky, though…it’ll throw ya.”
I smiled at that. How could I not? Dad’s still Dad, and that’s just how he is.
“Yeah, I’ll be careful. I love you, Dad.”
“I love you, too.”
“Say hi to your family for me.”
“OK. You be careful.”
“I will.” I laid my cheek on top of his head as I had many times during the last week, but I let it linger there for nearly a full minute, just letting the feel of him seep into me for one last time. I kissed his forehead, squeezed his hand, and left.
“Bye, Dad.”
And that was it. I picked up my stuff, hugged and kissed my Mom goodbye, and let my brother drive me to the airport. There was a wrong turn in there somewhere, but luckily, my brother had his iPhone, and managed to get me there more or less on time with the help of Googlemaps. I passed through security, sat in the waiting area, called my wife, read my book, and basically tried to focus on all the everyday things going on around me.
I wasn’t heartbroken, or angry, or even really sad. No, instead, I was filled with gratitude. I had spent the last week with my father, and we had the chance to express our love as father and son. I was able to help him, to be there when he needed me, and to let him know that we would be OK after he had gone on his way. We were both at peace.
The first flight was short, and I promptly dozed off, so I don’t even remember that time at all. The second flight, from Chicago to Houston, was far more memorable.
I had been reading, dozing, thinking, and watching music videos on my mp3 player. The sky was a beautiful clear blue above us and hazy below. At some point, I woke from an almost-nap, and I saw the flight attendants handing out drinks. While I waited for them to get closer, I pulled out my mp3 player again and started watching my favorite Kelly Clarkson and Cathy Dennis music videos for the millionth time, and I noticed that I took particular pleasure in them, more so than usual. Part of me was thinking about my Dad, and I was turning everything over in my mind, wondering how this whole experience with him might affect me. How will my life change after this?
With that question ringing in my mind, I immersed myself in the sheer pleasure of my favorite songs and videos, cheesy as they are. Slowly, I became aware of an emotion building, swelling within me to the point of bursting with it.
It was joy. Pure and simple…it was joy.
It was if all the happy memories of my Dad, all his laughter, funny stories, wisecracks and practical jokes had joined together, and I felt that massive rush of joyful emotions urging me to fling myself headlong into the next 40 years of my life, and beyond.
“Live…” my inner voice said. This is a voice to whom I listen closely, for it seldom speaks in terms this loud, this clear.
“Live with joy, and adventure, and purpose. Live with love so that you can share it with others. Live with strength, so that you can help yourself, and those who need you. Live…so that you can look back one day with the quiet pride of a life well-spent, people well-loved, and other lives touched deeply by your own. Live…”
And tears rolled silently down my face as I sat there on that plane. What a gift my father had given me.
It’s a funny thing, but that little voice in my head sounds a little bit like my Dad, except that I know for a fact that he’d never say anything remotely like that. He’d just tell me to get my ass up off the couch and go plant some tomatoes and cayenne peppers.
But maybe that means pretty much the same thing. I’ll try it out and see.
Love you, Dad.
The Funeral
My father, William W. McClendon, Jr. was buried in the Paynetown Cemetery south of Greenville, TX, on Wednesday, October 15, 2008. He has passed away on Sunday, October 12, at the ripe old age of 80 years and one day.
Did you know that, if your wife drives like Mario Andretti, you can make it all the way to Greenville from Katy in exactly 4 hours? It was most impressive, I must say.
We left that morning a bit late, and there was bad weather in Dallas that slowed us down to about 75mph, so we were unable to visit Dad in the funeral home. I was told by my brother that he looked fabulous, “10 years younger…they even trimmed his nosehair.”
Wow. They really deserved a tip for that.
By the time it became apparent that we’d never make it to the funeral home in time, we called ahead and let Mom know that we’d just meet them at the cemetery. In the meantime, we were out of gas from the frantic drive. We headed towards the grave site with the intent of finding a gas station on the way, changing into our nice funeral clothes, and then hanging out until time to start.
There were no gas stations out there. None. Cows, chickens, and goats, yes, but gas stations? Nope.
Our car was on Very-Very-Empty, so we decided to head for the nearest town on the map, which was Quinlan. Nice place, once you find it. We coasted into the first gas station we saw, gassed up, changed clothes, and made it back to the cemetery with 15 minutes to spare.
It was a small turnout, but that was expected. Most of the folks who’ve known Dad were up in Indiana and couldn’t make the trip, but his Texas folks were all there. Mom was there, sad-eyed, but with that quiet strength that I’ve always come to expect from her. She’d slept on the drive down with my brother and his fiancée, and she was ready to get things moving.
There was a green tent over Dad’s coffin, and some Astroturf covered the ground so that the few chairs provided wouldn’t sink into the soft, damp earth. The sun had come out, and there was a quiet, beautiful serenity to the tiny cemetery that housed my grandparents and great-grandparents, and would soon keep my father’s remains as well. One of our relatives solemnly picked up his guitar and played a beautiful acoustic “Amazing Grace”, and I’ll never forget how his soft, gentle voice floated over us. One of my cousins gave a short eulogy that we enjoyed…there were sniffles at times, and overt chuckles at others. Dad was a character, yessiree. And well-loved. A sermon from the presiding pastor followed, and after a final prayer, the funeral director quietly knelt in front of us to speak with Mom.
“This concludes our service,” he whispered to my Mom. “Would you like to stay to see him lowered?”
Mom gently replied that she did not, stood up, and started walking towards the car. She was done, friends. She had loved my father for nearly 40 years. She had said her goodbyes, and it was apparently time to get the heck out of Dodge. We trailed behind her, hugging long-lost relatives and thanking folks for coming. Mom just kept on walking, so we hustled to catch up.
It’s a bit blurry after that. We went to Aunt Sissy’s, and Mom dutifully handed me the scooter keys and a heavily wrapped package that could only be one thing: the bedpan. I saw her crack a smile, then, and I knew she’d be OK. Mom changed clothes, packed her bags, and piled in the car with my brother and his fiancée 2 hours later, headed for home. We stayed longer, hung out with family and laughed and talked about Dad, about other stuff, and just enjoyed catching up. There were no more tears. My father had moved on, and that’s OK.
On our way home, we stopped and took some pics at the cemetery. Here’s me at Dad’s grave…sorry, it’s a bit blurry:
We’re home now, and I’m in the process of flinging myself headlong into the next years of my life. I feel like I should follow Dad’s example, and get busy with it all. Mom’s hanging in there…she had some rough moments yesterday when she had my brother clear out Dad’s garden in the back yard. She said that she didn’t want the rotting vegetables to attract animals. Dad’s tended a garden ever since I’ve known him, and I know that seeing the plants pulled up and disposed of was extremely difficult for Mom. Even so, she’s a strong woman with an awful lot of stuff to do. She’ll keep on keeping on, as they say.
So there you have it. To be honest, I’ve written every word on this blog over the last month with completely selfish intent…I wanted to get everything down somewhere so that I’d remember it always. However, I also wanted to keep my friends and family updated on my Dad’s situation, since many of you asked to be kept in the loop.
What I didn’t expect was for so many of you to let me know that my blogs were meaningful to you in some way. To you folks, I must say a humble “Thank you.” I’m very glad that I could do anything to help anyone feel better during this time when folks who love my Dad were hurting. Writing all this has helped me to get through it too, so I’m happy to share.
So go…spread the love. Enjoy your time here on earth. Love someone deeply, pursue a challenge, take a risk, and trade every day for something wonderful and amazing. Love to you all.
Rest In Peace, William W. McClendon, Jr. and thanks for everything.
Wednesday, October 8, 2008
This morning was to be the last time I’d see my Dad alive. We both knew it, and as unpleasant a situation as it was, we had found peace within it. Dad’s sisters, brother, and niece were due to arrive in the afternoon, and I knew he was looking forward to seeing them. He was comfortable, happy, and very glad to be back in his own home with his dog, Ricco, continually stepping all over him as he lay in bed.
I packed up my things, and talked to Dad. We called my wife and son, and they had a chance to talk with him a bit. It was hard to understand him without his teeth, but I got choked up when I heard Dad telling my son that he loved him, as loud as possible, while my son chattered away on the other end.
All too soon, it was simply time for me to leave. I came in to talk to him one last time.
“Hey, did you find a way to get that scooter home?” Dad began.
“Yeah, Dad. I hired a guy to bring it to me.”
“That’s good…I wanted you to have it. Don’t get cocky, though…it’ll throw ya.”
I smiled at that. How could I not? Dad’s still Dad, and that’s just how he is.
“Yeah, I’ll be careful. I love you, Dad.”
“I love you, too.”
“Say hi to your family for me.”
“OK. You be careful.”
“I will.” I laid my cheek on top of his head as I had many times during the last week, but I let it linger there for nearly a full minute, just letting the feel of him seep into me for one last time. I kissed his forehead, squeezed his hand, and left.
“Bye, Dad.”
And that was it. I picked up my stuff, hugged and kissed my Mom goodbye, and let my brother drive me to the airport. There was a wrong turn in there somewhere, but luckily, my brother had his iPhone, and managed to get me there more or less on time with the help of Googlemaps. I passed through security, sat in the waiting area, called my wife, read my book, and basically tried to focus on all the everyday things going on around me.
I wasn’t heartbroken, or angry, or even really sad. No, instead, I was filled with gratitude. I had spent the last week with my father, and we had the chance to express our love as father and son. I was able to help him, to be there when he needed me, and to let him know that we would be OK after he had gone on his way. We were both at peace.
The first flight was short, and I promptly dozed off, so I don’t even remember that time at all. The second flight, from Chicago to Houston, was far more memorable.
I had been reading, dozing, thinking, and watching music videos on my mp3 player. The sky was a beautiful clear blue above us and hazy below. At some point, I woke from an almost-nap, and I saw the flight attendants handing out drinks. While I waited for them to get closer, I pulled out my mp3 player again and started watching my favorite Kelly Clarkson and Cathy Dennis music videos for the millionth time, and I noticed that I took particular pleasure in them, more so than usual. Part of me was thinking about my Dad, and I was turning everything over in my mind, wondering how this whole experience with him might affect me. How will my life change after this?
With that question ringing in my mind, I immersed myself in the sheer pleasure of my favorite songs and videos, cheesy as they are. Slowly, I became aware of an emotion building, swelling within me to the point of bursting with it.
It was joy. Pure and simple…it was joy.
It was if all the happy memories of my Dad, all his laughter, funny stories, wisecracks and practical jokes had joined together, and I felt that massive rush of joyful emotions urging me to fling myself headlong into the next 40 years of my life, and beyond.
“Live…” my inner voice said. This is a voice to whom I listen closely, for it seldom speaks in terms this loud, this clear.
“Live with joy, and adventure, and purpose. Live with love so that you can share it with others. Live with strength, so that you can help yourself, and those who need you. Live…so that you can look back one day with the quiet pride of a life well-spent, people well-loved, and other lives touched deeply by your own. Live…”
And tears rolled silently down my face as I sat there on that plane. What a gift my father had given me.
It’s a funny thing, but that little voice in my head sounds a little bit like my Dad, except that I know for a fact that he’d never say anything remotely like that. He’d just tell me to get my ass up off the couch and go plant some tomatoes and cayenne peppers.
But maybe that means pretty much the same thing. I’ll try it out and see.
Love you, Dad.
The Funeral
My father, William W. McClendon, Jr. was buried in the Paynetown Cemetery south of Greenville, TX, on Wednesday, October 15, 2008. He has passed away on Sunday, October 12, at the ripe old age of 80 years and one day.
Did you know that, if your wife drives like Mario Andretti, you can make it all the way to Greenville from Katy in exactly 4 hours? It was most impressive, I must say.
We left that morning a bit late, and there was bad weather in Dallas that slowed us down to about 75mph, so we were unable to visit Dad in the funeral home. I was told by my brother that he looked fabulous, “10 years younger…they even trimmed his nosehair.”
Wow. They really deserved a tip for that.
By the time it became apparent that we’d never make it to the funeral home in time, we called ahead and let Mom know that we’d just meet them at the cemetery. In the meantime, we were out of gas from the frantic drive. We headed towards the grave site with the intent of finding a gas station on the way, changing into our nice funeral clothes, and then hanging out until time to start.
There were no gas stations out there. None. Cows, chickens, and goats, yes, but gas stations? Nope.
Our car was on Very-Very-Empty, so we decided to head for the nearest town on the map, which was Quinlan. Nice place, once you find it. We coasted into the first gas station we saw, gassed up, changed clothes, and made it back to the cemetery with 15 minutes to spare.
It was a small turnout, but that was expected. Most of the folks who’ve known Dad were up in Indiana and couldn’t make the trip, but his Texas folks were all there. Mom was there, sad-eyed, but with that quiet strength that I’ve always come to expect from her. She’d slept on the drive down with my brother and his fiancée, and she was ready to get things moving.
There was a green tent over Dad’s coffin, and some Astroturf covered the ground so that the few chairs provided wouldn’t sink into the soft, damp earth. The sun had come out, and there was a quiet, beautiful serenity to the tiny cemetery that housed my grandparents and great-grandparents, and would soon keep my father’s remains as well. One of our relatives solemnly picked up his guitar and played a beautiful acoustic “Amazing Grace”, and I’ll never forget how his soft, gentle voice floated over us. One of my cousins gave a short eulogy that we enjoyed…there were sniffles at times, and overt chuckles at others. Dad was a character, yessiree. And well-loved. A sermon from the presiding pastor followed, and after a final prayer, the funeral director quietly knelt in front of us to speak with Mom.
“This concludes our service,” he whispered to my Mom. “Would you like to stay to see him lowered?”
Mom gently replied that she did not, stood up, and started walking towards the car. She was done, friends. She had loved my father for nearly 40 years. She had said her goodbyes, and it was apparently time to get the heck out of Dodge. We trailed behind her, hugging long-lost relatives and thanking folks for coming. Mom just kept on walking, so we hustled to catch up.
It’s a bit blurry after that. We went to Aunt Sissy’s, and Mom dutifully handed me the scooter keys and a heavily wrapped package that could only be one thing: the bedpan. I saw her crack a smile, then, and I knew she’d be OK. Mom changed clothes, packed her bags, and piled in the car with my brother and his fiancée 2 hours later, headed for home. We stayed longer, hung out with family and laughed and talked about Dad, about other stuff, and just enjoyed catching up. There were no more tears. My father had moved on, and that’s OK.
On our way home, we stopped and took some pics at the cemetery. Here’s me at Dad’s grave…sorry, it’s a bit blurry:
We’re home now, and I’m in the process of flinging myself headlong into the next years of my life. I feel like I should follow Dad’s example, and get busy with it all. Mom’s hanging in there…she had some rough moments yesterday when she had my brother clear out Dad’s garden in the back yard. She said that she didn’t want the rotting vegetables to attract animals. Dad’s tended a garden ever since I’ve known him, and I know that seeing the plants pulled up and disposed of was extremely difficult for Mom. Even so, she’s a strong woman with an awful lot of stuff to do. She’ll keep on keeping on, as they say.
So there you have it. To be honest, I’ve written every word on this blog over the last month with completely selfish intent…I wanted to get everything down somewhere so that I’d remember it always. However, I also wanted to keep my friends and family updated on my Dad’s situation, since many of you asked to be kept in the loop.
What I didn’t expect was for so many of you to let me know that my blogs were meaningful to you in some way. To you folks, I must say a humble “Thank you.” I’m very glad that I could do anything to help anyone feel better during this time when folks who love my Dad were hurting. Writing all this has helped me to get through it too, so I’m happy to share.
So go…spread the love. Enjoy your time here on earth. Love someone deeply, pursue a challenge, take a risk, and trade every day for something wonderful and amazing. Love to you all.
Rest In Peace, William W. McClendon, Jr. and thanks for everything.
Tuesday, October 14, 2008
Almost Time to Head Out.
Dad's funeral will be held in a tiny cemetary in Northeast Texas in a little over 14 hours. We'll crash tonight, pack up early in the morning, and head out. We're planning to go to Greenville first so that Christina and Monkey can see Dad in the funeral home before we go to the actual gravesite ceremony...they wanted some time to say goodbye to Dad before things get started.
Today was a much better day for me. Yesterday was harder, but I think I'm getting my feet under me again, and the funeral will serve to close this chapter somewhat. Dad's influence will never go away, and neither will the lessons that he's taught me over the years. Sometimes, he taught by actually "teaching" me something, with words and gestures, and a straightforward lesson of some kind. Other times, he taught by example, even when he had no idea that I was watching. Either way, those lessons stuck. Thanks, Dad.
My Mom and brother are on their way, and should arrive in Texas late tonight. I hope they can get some rest before tomorrow. They are bringing a couple of very important items for me: keys to the scooter, and a special bedpan. Selfishly speaking, I'm glad they remembered.
It'll be good to see the family, gathered as they will be for Dad's service. We'll all be united in our sadness at the loss of him, as well as in our moments of laughter as we remember the brave, and sometimes ridiculous things he often did. I've got another blog started where I plan to chronicle many of his stories and adventures, and his general "Dadness" as possible. More on that later.
For now, we're off to bed. I'll write something after the funeral, and if I don't have at least one new funny story, feel free to slap me around. Take care, everyone. And go hug someone you love.
Today was a much better day for me. Yesterday was harder, but I think I'm getting my feet under me again, and the funeral will serve to close this chapter somewhat. Dad's influence will never go away, and neither will the lessons that he's taught me over the years. Sometimes, he taught by actually "teaching" me something, with words and gestures, and a straightforward lesson of some kind. Other times, he taught by example, even when he had no idea that I was watching. Either way, those lessons stuck. Thanks, Dad.
My Mom and brother are on their way, and should arrive in Texas late tonight. I hope they can get some rest before tomorrow. They are bringing a couple of very important items for me: keys to the scooter, and a special bedpan. Selfishly speaking, I'm glad they remembered.
It'll be good to see the family, gathered as they will be for Dad's service. We'll all be united in our sadness at the loss of him, as well as in our moments of laughter as we remember the brave, and sometimes ridiculous things he often did. I've got another blog started where I plan to chronicle many of his stories and adventures, and his general "Dadness" as possible. More on that later.
For now, we're off to bed. I'll write something after the funeral, and if I don't have at least one new funny story, feel free to slap me around. Take care, everyone. And go hug someone you love.
Monday, October 13, 2008
Finally Got That Phone Call
Yesterday was Sunday, and I had spent the last 8 hours finishing up my taxes. I'd been on the phone a few times with Mom, who had let me know that Dad had been unresponsive for the last day or so, but there was still nothing new to report.
After putting the final touches on my tax report, I kissed my wife and son, and hopped in the car to go drop the report at my father-in-law's house (he's our tax guy). I called my friend, Brian, to chat a bit, during the 3 minute drive. As I was talking to him, I got a beep...it was Mom.
I hustled to switch over, and it went something like this:
"Mom?"
"Son...Dad passed away...and I'll get back to you."
"Um...OK. Love you, Mom."
"Love you too. Bye."
And there it was. Dad's finally gone. His spirit has left us, and we are left to navigate this world without his particular brand of country wisdom, his humor, and quiet strength.
Mom's probably the toughest woman I've ever met, but I could tell that she wasn't up for a lot of emotional conversation. She tends to plow forward, do what needs to be done, and bury herself in tasks that keep her focus away from more unpleasant thoughts. She'll cry when she has time and privacy to do so. That's just how she rolls. All the arrangements have been made, everything's already handled, and now all that's left is to head to Paynetown, TX for Dad's funeral. That's this Wednesday at 2pm, by the way.
So I dropped off my tax information and headed home. I stopped at the video store to try for Zohan, but it wasn't there. I settled for Leatherheads, thinking that humorous movies will be in demand around our house for awhile. When I got home, I quietly let Christina know that Dad was gone, and we decided to tell Connor later...no sense in making it harder for him to go to sleep. As we finished up our day, I noticed that things were different. Before I had left the house, Dad was still around. Quiet, no doubt, but still around. By the time I had returned, he was gone. Different...and I felt the difference.
Today was to be my triumphant return to teaching. I got up and worked out as soon as I could get started. That accomplished, I fumbled around and tried to remember what else I was supposed to be doing. I was still doing that when Amy, one of my fantastic assistants, called to see why I had missed our meeting at 11am. Crap.
You see, when I'm preoccupied or stressed, two things happen to me: I have trouble making decisions, and I forget things. I had forgotten our meeting.
25 minutes later, I made it to my school to meet with the fabulous Amy to discuss the idea of having a tournament for our junior students. Mom called briefly during the meeting to give me the final funeral arrangements, and then we got back to our discussion. As we finished that up, and my daytime class approached, Amy graciously offered to take the class for me. Apparently, it was obvious that I'm distracted, absent, and not altogether ready to get back to teaching.
Well, she was right. I let her handle that class, and the evening classes with Mark as well, and I came home for the day. We picked up Connor from school, and I sat him down and gently told him about Grandpa's passing. Although he was sad about it, kids are pretty resilient, and he went back to being a kid again almost immediately.
I'm having a slightly rougher time of it, I suppose. I mean, I have no regrets about my relationship with Dad. The week I spent with him during his last days was more meaningful than I can convey, and we parted on the best possible terms. I had accepted his imminent passing, as had he, and figured that I'd be fine.
There's just a touch more finality to this whole thing now. And there's an emptiness that I didn't quite expect. There's no denying that it's there, and it's bugging me. Since it's still pretty new, I'm not that adept at dealing with it yet, although I can say that bowling doesn't help all that much (but that's another story).
I have the feeling that the funeral will bring a certain amount of closure, which will be good for all three of us. There are many ways to deal with my feelings, and I plan to cycle through each of them until I find the best combination of working out, reading, writing, working, playing, meditating, talking, listening, and riding Dad's scooter (which will be here soon). While I'm doing that, I hope that my friends and students will be able to tolerate me until I'm back on my emotional feet.
So if I seem preoccupied, distant, or absent, and if I don't answer emails or messages, please don't take it personally. I've always been good at dealing with my emotions, and although this might take some extra muscle, I'll be fine. Christina's offered to wait on me hand and foot for awhile...who wouldn't feel better with an offer like that on the table?
Take care, everyone. Go hug someone you love, and I'll get back to you.
After putting the final touches on my tax report, I kissed my wife and son, and hopped in the car to go drop the report at my father-in-law's house (he's our tax guy). I called my friend, Brian, to chat a bit, during the 3 minute drive. As I was talking to him, I got a beep...it was Mom.
I hustled to switch over, and it went something like this:
"Mom?"
"Son...Dad passed away...and I'll get back to you."
"Um...OK. Love you, Mom."
"Love you too. Bye."
And there it was. Dad's finally gone. His spirit has left us, and we are left to navigate this world without his particular brand of country wisdom, his humor, and quiet strength.
Mom's probably the toughest woman I've ever met, but I could tell that she wasn't up for a lot of emotional conversation. She tends to plow forward, do what needs to be done, and bury herself in tasks that keep her focus away from more unpleasant thoughts. She'll cry when she has time and privacy to do so. That's just how she rolls. All the arrangements have been made, everything's already handled, and now all that's left is to head to Paynetown, TX for Dad's funeral. That's this Wednesday at 2pm, by the way.
So I dropped off my tax information and headed home. I stopped at the video store to try for Zohan, but it wasn't there. I settled for Leatherheads, thinking that humorous movies will be in demand around our house for awhile. When I got home, I quietly let Christina know that Dad was gone, and we decided to tell Connor later...no sense in making it harder for him to go to sleep. As we finished up our day, I noticed that things were different. Before I had left the house, Dad was still around. Quiet, no doubt, but still around. By the time I had returned, he was gone. Different...and I felt the difference.
Today was to be my triumphant return to teaching. I got up and worked out as soon as I could get started. That accomplished, I fumbled around and tried to remember what else I was supposed to be doing. I was still doing that when Amy, one of my fantastic assistants, called to see why I had missed our meeting at 11am. Crap.
You see, when I'm preoccupied or stressed, two things happen to me: I have trouble making decisions, and I forget things. I had forgotten our meeting.
25 minutes later, I made it to my school to meet with the fabulous Amy to discuss the idea of having a tournament for our junior students. Mom called briefly during the meeting to give me the final funeral arrangements, and then we got back to our discussion. As we finished that up, and my daytime class approached, Amy graciously offered to take the class for me. Apparently, it was obvious that I'm distracted, absent, and not altogether ready to get back to teaching.
Well, she was right. I let her handle that class, and the evening classes with Mark as well, and I came home for the day. We picked up Connor from school, and I sat him down and gently told him about Grandpa's passing. Although he was sad about it, kids are pretty resilient, and he went back to being a kid again almost immediately.
I'm having a slightly rougher time of it, I suppose. I mean, I have no regrets about my relationship with Dad. The week I spent with him during his last days was more meaningful than I can convey, and we parted on the best possible terms. I had accepted his imminent passing, as had he, and figured that I'd be fine.
There's just a touch more finality to this whole thing now. And there's an emptiness that I didn't quite expect. There's no denying that it's there, and it's bugging me. Since it's still pretty new, I'm not that adept at dealing with it yet, although I can say that bowling doesn't help all that much (but that's another story).
I have the feeling that the funeral will bring a certain amount of closure, which will be good for all three of us. There are many ways to deal with my feelings, and I plan to cycle through each of them until I find the best combination of working out, reading, writing, working, playing, meditating, talking, listening, and riding Dad's scooter (which will be here soon). While I'm doing that, I hope that my friends and students will be able to tolerate me until I'm back on my emotional feet.
So if I seem preoccupied, distant, or absent, and if I don't answer emails or messages, please don't take it personally. I've always been good at dealing with my emotions, and although this might take some extra muscle, I'll be fine. Christina's offered to wait on me hand and foot for awhile...who wouldn't feel better with an offer like that on the table?
Take care, everyone. Go hug someone you love, and I'll get back to you.
Thursday, October 09, 2008
There's Just Not Enough "Thank You"
I'm home. I spoke to my Mom this morning, and she told me that Dad's 'happy as a lark', now that some of his family has come up to see him. Joann, Paula, Buddy, and Sissy all hopped a train from Dallas to Chicago and then rented a car to get to Elkhart, and he's been thrilled to have them around.
"Y'all sure took your sweet time gettin' here!" he reportedly said, laughing, when they showed up.
Dad's perked up a bit, and I'm glad. I don't know if he's managed to eat or drink anything other than his 'little Cokes', but the main thing is that he's happy and comfortable at home.
I had a big emotional moment on the plane that I think is worth sharing, but I'll save that for another post. What I want to do now is thank the folks who kept Jade Mountain rolling for me while I was away.
I came in last night, worn out, and planning to visit my school for just a short while, just to touch base and then get home so I could finally get some sleep. As soon as I entered the doorway, I noticed that there was a large pile of stuff underneath the stairs, covered with a canvas. Then, as I climbed the stairs, I noticed that the official school plant was on the landing, and that the window decorations had been changed, making that area much more inviting.
Folks, when I walked in, I had no idea that my SWAT (Sifu Whit's Apprentice Trainees, as they now call themselves) had spent hours redecorating the school while I was gone. It's now much more open, clean, efficient, and fabulous. Old equipment that I had planned to 'someday' sell had been hauled out and placed in storage. Walls had been redecorated. The bathroom had been redecorated. And the storage room had been converted into a SWAT changing room and office.
Wow.
Had I not been worn out, I'd have been crying in front of everyone. As it was, it was a close thing, and I spent much of the time wiping my eyes and sniffling as I strolled around, taking in the 'new' Jade Mountain. They had worked their tails off to do this, all without my knowledge, and just because they wanted to give something back to me, their teacher, and to the school that they have come to cherish.
I was humbled, honored, and deeply touched. I can't thank them enough...I just can't. I've always felt that without devoted students, being a Sifu is kind of useless, worthless. I could have the world's accumulated knowledge of martial arts, but without someone to take it from me, it would just sit there, in my mind and body, with no purpose. My team has made me feel like the greatest Sifu alive. I suppose I can only thank them day by day, skill by skill, and lesson by lesson, for they deserve the very best I can possibly give them. And dinner...I'm taking them all out to dinner.
There isn't enough "Thank you" in the world to express my gratitude towards these fine folks, so I'll try and pile it all into one:
"Thank you all, from the bottom of my heart."
(from left)Bill Landry, Kevin Hall, Renee Bracamonte, Misty Hanson, Sifu Whit, Amy Jones, Terry Thurman, Mark Dong, and Shaun Lawler (not shown)
"Y'all sure took your sweet time gettin' here!" he reportedly said, laughing, when they showed up.
Dad's perked up a bit, and I'm glad. I don't know if he's managed to eat or drink anything other than his 'little Cokes', but the main thing is that he's happy and comfortable at home.
I had a big emotional moment on the plane that I think is worth sharing, but I'll save that for another post. What I want to do now is thank the folks who kept Jade Mountain rolling for me while I was away.
I came in last night, worn out, and planning to visit my school for just a short while, just to touch base and then get home so I could finally get some sleep. As soon as I entered the doorway, I noticed that there was a large pile of stuff underneath the stairs, covered with a canvas. Then, as I climbed the stairs, I noticed that the official school plant was on the landing, and that the window decorations had been changed, making that area much more inviting.
Folks, when I walked in, I had no idea that my SWAT (Sifu Whit's Apprentice Trainees, as they now call themselves) had spent hours redecorating the school while I was gone. It's now much more open, clean, efficient, and fabulous. Old equipment that I had planned to 'someday' sell had been hauled out and placed in storage. Walls had been redecorated. The bathroom had been redecorated. And the storage room had been converted into a SWAT changing room and office.
Wow.
Had I not been worn out, I'd have been crying in front of everyone. As it was, it was a close thing, and I spent much of the time wiping my eyes and sniffling as I strolled around, taking in the 'new' Jade Mountain. They had worked their tails off to do this, all without my knowledge, and just because they wanted to give something back to me, their teacher, and to the school that they have come to cherish.
I was humbled, honored, and deeply touched. I can't thank them enough...I just can't. I've always felt that without devoted students, being a Sifu is kind of useless, worthless. I could have the world's accumulated knowledge of martial arts, but without someone to take it from me, it would just sit there, in my mind and body, with no purpose. My team has made me feel like the greatest Sifu alive. I suppose I can only thank them day by day, skill by skill, and lesson by lesson, for they deserve the very best I can possibly give them. And dinner...I'm taking them all out to dinner.
There isn't enough "Thank you" in the world to express my gratitude towards these fine folks, so I'll try and pile it all into one:
"Thank you all, from the bottom of my heart."
(from left)Bill Landry, Kevin Hall, Renee Bracamonte, Misty Hanson, Sifu Whit, Amy Jones, Terry Thurman, Mark Dong, and Shaun Lawler (not shown)
Tuesday, October 07, 2008
Homecoming, Departures
Dad came home today. He's resting comfortably in his own bed, with his wife nearby, and his dog in his lap. He's much more relaxed than he was in the hospital, and I don't blame him one bit.
I got up early this morning, showered up quickly, and gathered up my stuff so that I could spend time with Dad while Mom got her antibiotic shot (that pesky pneumonia is still giving her fits) and finished tying up things with the Hospice folks. She made sure the oxygen tanks showed up, called everyone involved, and generally prepared for Dad's return. We figured we had covered all the bases, and if all went well, Dad was due to leave the hospital at around 3pm (6pm is what I guessed would be the final result...I've never known these things to happen on time.)
There was a lot of quiet time with Dad today. He seemed eager to get home, and asked more than once what time it was. I happily reassured him that we had finished almost everything, and that he'd be home soon. He had more fluid drained from his lungs so that he'd be more comfortable at home. My brother stopped in to see how Dad was doing. The nurses removed his PIC line (nutritional IV) and his other intravenous lines, and I spoke with the nurse regarding various procedures.
Ruth was Dad's nurse during the day, and let me tell you, she was fabulous. She was always great with Dad, and I'll never be able to thank her and the other folks at EGH enough. I always felt that they worked really hard for Dad and cared for him. Thanks, folks!
Then there was a tiny little snag. It seems that we needed two witness to sign a particular form...two folks who knew Dad, but weren't related to him, and weren't employees of the hospital. HOLY CRAP!!! Most of the folks Dad hung out with were family members. The guy who sold him the scooter didn't count, so we were scrambling to find folks to sign this one paper so that Dad could ride in the ambulance and come home.
Mom (who has a hard time asking ANYONE for help) went next door to talk to the fabulous Bree, a stay-at-home mom who knows Dad fairly well. She dropped what she was doing, scooped up her adorable 2yrold daughter and hustled up to the hospital. Next, Mom called the family Pastor, who likewise, jumped in whatever car he drives, probably hollered "YEEEEEEE-HAAAAAWWWWWWW!" and showed up at the hospital mere minutes later. They signed the paper, I signed the paper, and all was well with the world again. Again, thanks are in order.
The Pastor stayed a bit longer to chat with Dad. He quietly let Dad know that he'll be there if needed, and asked if there was anything Dad wanted him to pray for.
There was a moment of silence before I heard him quietly say, "Pray for Mary."
I don't recall many times in my life when I heard emotion touch my father's voice. All that mushy stuff just wasn't comfortable for him, and he was fine to just smile and nod, rather than bare his heart to the world like his oldest son would probably do. And yet, it was there. In what are probably his final days, he's thinking of her...of us. That's Dad.
We readied him for the trip after that, and as 3pm got closer and closer, it became clear that they weren't playing around! He really was going to leave the hospital on time! This left me with a bit of a predicament...I had to find a way to liberate the bedpan. Oh, yes, you know the bedpan of which I speak. That stainless steel vessel of doom that proved the depth of my ignorance...yes, THAT bedpan.
As much as it had embarrassed me, I had gotten rather close to that bedpan. We have a much better relationship now, and I felt that it was an important part of Dad's whole experience. Too important, in fact, to be left behind. So what's a guy to do? I mean...do I clean it out, dry it off, tie it up in a plastic bag, wrap it up in my sweatshirt, and then stuff it into a bigger plastic bag so that I can walk off with it? Me? I'd never dream of such a thing.
Yeah...and monkeys'll fly out of my butt.
The bedpan is now resting comfortably in Dad's bathroom. There it will stay until he no longer needs it. Afterwards, I'm sure it will somehow find its way to Katy.
3pm showed up, and so did the ambulance guys, Rob and Josh. They were polite, efficient, and ready to roll, baby. They carefully slid Dad, waffle mattress and all onto their gurney, and we were off. I did take a moment to pass off a certain bundle to Aunt Linda before climbing into the ambulance with Dad. "Take care of this...it's important." Aunt Linda nodded solemnly, and I followed Dad to his ride.
After passing the house, turning around, and then finding it again, Rob and Josh rolled into the driveway. We brought them inside to see where Dad would be placed, and they promptly ruled out the gurney and the wheelchair. "We'll just have to carry him up. Don't worry, we do this all the time." You know what? The were right. Dad was in his own bed before I could say Jiminy Cricket. There was some discussion with Amy, the Hospice nurse, while we also thanked Rob and Josh for bringing Dad safely home, followed by some scrambling for a bedpan (Dad wasted no time requesting it once he got home) and then we all breathed a huge sigh of relief. Dad's home, at long last. He has three huge oxygen tanks at the foot of his bed, and a host of supplies, medicines, and small machines nearby, but I can see how relieved he is to be back in his own home again.
Since he's been home, he's actually drank a bit of Coca Cola, as well as a bit of water. He's been able to pet his dog Rico any time he wants. And he even talked to his grandson in Katy, my son Connor. That got me, folks. Dad was happily telling Connor that he loves him while Connor chattered away on the other end. Hearing that love in my Dad's voice, a voice unaccustomed to holding that kind of tone, that moved me.
The only other thing I want to mention is something you'd probably see in any MadeForTVMovie. I had some alone time with Dad, and I wanted to tell him something I always felt that he knew, but I seldom said it to him aloud.
"Dad, I just wanted you to know that I'm proud to be your son."
"Yeah...well, I'm proud to have you."
I don't need much from my Dad. He and Mom molded me to be pretty independent, and I'm not a guy who spent his whole life seeking Dad's approval. Honestly, I always felt that I already had it. But a little confirmation at a time like this is extremely meaningful. Dad's a man of few words, and he invested more meaning in those seven than most could express in a 10 page speech. I'm OK with that.
I leave tomorrow morning, knowing that I will probably never see my father alive again. For many, that would be a horrible tragedy, but it's not like that for me. This past week has been a good one for us as father and son, a rare and valuable gift. I'll treasure this time for the rest of my life, and I can sleep at night knowing that I showed Dad how much I love him by being here during these final days. I've also felt his love for me, and feel that he'll always be with me, no matter where I go or what I do.
And by the way, there's always that crazy chance that his sheer toughness will reassert itself, he could go into remission and he'll last for months. That would be just like him, that freakin' tough old coot. I'll keep you posted. In any case, don't waste time where your loved ones are concerned. Tell them you love them every day. You'll feel better...I promise.
Monday, October 06, 2008
Dad's Scooter
Day 6, October 6, 2008
It's quiet here in Dad's room. He's off the BiPAP, and it's a lot easier to understand him with the smaller oxygen mask. He's resting comfortably. Still joking a little bit. He likes to have the nurse call button firmly in his hand at all times, saying that he'd be "up a creek without that beeper...I think they're all asleep back there."
Mom's gone back to the doctor for more tests. I'm hoping that she starts feeling better somehow, but I know that the things that she needs to get done simply must get done, and no one can do them for her. At least her fever is gone.
I thought I'd throw a little video up here for comic relief...OK, it's not that funny, but it makes me laugh. Before I get to the vid, I'll explain a bit about this whole scooter thing.
2 years ago (when Dad was a spry 78 yrs old) his wrecked his truck, and his failing eyesight kept him from renewing his license. Stuck at home, and resenting the loss of his mobility, he got to thinking that a scooter might be a good idea...just the thing for those short trips to the gas station/convenience store or my brother's house nearby. He mentioned it to Mom, who promptly vetoed the idea.
"Have you lost your MIND? NO!!!"
My father was not deterred in the least. Every day, he began to pester her to take him to Ed's Cycles to look at the bikes. Every day, Mom refused. This went on for weeks...every...single...day. Finally, he threatened to just walk there if she wouldn't drive him, and he actually started walking down the street. Mom finally relented, and drove him to the motorcycle shop.
Once there, Dad walked straight over to the Harleys, and Mom turned on her heel and walked back out to sit in the car. "No. Way. I'm not going to be a part of this ridiculousness." Dad waved to her from the store window, but she would not be moved.
Finally, he brought the salesman out to talk to her and assured her that they had found something more suitable. Mom warily exited the car and followed them to the showroom. Here's what she saw:
Its top speed is only about 38 miles an hour...maybe 40, if there's a tailwind. She reluctantly agreed, only because she wanted to give Dad a chance to keep his independence.
They got it home. Dad rode it up the block, and then back down the block, and then laid the bike down in the middle of the road after losing control in some gravel.
And that was that. It went into the garage, and stayed there. Dad dutifully started it, day after day, just to make sure that it continued to function, but he never rode it again.
Mom always said that he wanted me to have it. With gas prices as high as they are, it would be the perfect ride to my school and back. I did have some trouble with it at first, but finally figured things out.
At first, I always suggested that Mom just sell it and if she really wanted me to have a scooter, then just pass the money along and I'd buy one back in Katy. But now that I'm here, and I've ridden it and run my fingers along the scratches left by Dad's wreck...I really want it. THIS scooter. Not a fancier new one, not one that goes faster...THIS one. Because it was Dad's.
I know he only rode it once, but to me, it symbolizes his determined spirit, his desire to do things his own way, his passion for living. How could I just sell it, and buy some new, empty machine with no feeling attached to it? There may come a day when I choose to buy a bigger, better, faster scooter, but not yet...not just yet.
So laugh at me if you will. I know that I'm not exactly the most macho figure on the road with my little red scooter...but I'm ok with that.
It's quiet here in Dad's room. He's off the BiPAP, and it's a lot easier to understand him with the smaller oxygen mask. He's resting comfortably. Still joking a little bit. He likes to have the nurse call button firmly in his hand at all times, saying that he'd be "up a creek without that beeper...I think they're all asleep back there."
Mom's gone back to the doctor for more tests. I'm hoping that she starts feeling better somehow, but I know that the things that she needs to get done simply must get done, and no one can do them for her. At least her fever is gone.
I thought I'd throw a little video up here for comic relief...OK, it's not that funny, but it makes me laugh. Before I get to the vid, I'll explain a bit about this whole scooter thing.
2 years ago (when Dad was a spry 78 yrs old) his wrecked his truck, and his failing eyesight kept him from renewing his license. Stuck at home, and resenting the loss of his mobility, he got to thinking that a scooter might be a good idea...just the thing for those short trips to the gas station/convenience store or my brother's house nearby. He mentioned it to Mom, who promptly vetoed the idea.
"Have you lost your MIND? NO!!!"
My father was not deterred in the least. Every day, he began to pester her to take him to Ed's Cycles to look at the bikes. Every day, Mom refused. This went on for weeks...every...single...day. Finally, he threatened to just walk there if she wouldn't drive him, and he actually started walking down the street. Mom finally relented, and drove him to the motorcycle shop.
Once there, Dad walked straight over to the Harleys, and Mom turned on her heel and walked back out to sit in the car. "No. Way. I'm not going to be a part of this ridiculousness." Dad waved to her from the store window, but she would not be moved.
Finally, he brought the salesman out to talk to her and assured her that they had found something more suitable. Mom warily exited the car and followed them to the showroom. Here's what she saw:
Its top speed is only about 38 miles an hour...maybe 40, if there's a tailwind. She reluctantly agreed, only because she wanted to give Dad a chance to keep his independence.
They got it home. Dad rode it up the block, and then back down the block, and then laid the bike down in the middle of the road after losing control in some gravel.
And that was that. It went into the garage, and stayed there. Dad dutifully started it, day after day, just to make sure that it continued to function, but he never rode it again.
Mom always said that he wanted me to have it. With gas prices as high as they are, it would be the perfect ride to my school and back. I did have some trouble with it at first, but finally figured things out.
At first, I always suggested that Mom just sell it and if she really wanted me to have a scooter, then just pass the money along and I'd buy one back in Katy. But now that I'm here, and I've ridden it and run my fingers along the scratches left by Dad's wreck...I really want it. THIS scooter. Not a fancier new one, not one that goes faster...THIS one. Because it was Dad's.
I know he only rode it once, but to me, it symbolizes his determined spirit, his desire to do things his own way, his passion for living. How could I just sell it, and buy some new, empty machine with no feeling attached to it? There may come a day when I choose to buy a bigger, better, faster scooter, but not yet...not just yet.
So laugh at me if you will. I know that I'm not exactly the most macho figure on the road with my little red scooter...but I'm ok with that.
Sunday, October 05, 2008
Dad's Still Dad
Dad's resting. Not much has changed, really. He's still not eating, although he did request a sip of Coca-Cola this morning (we happily obliged). The mottling that had appeared on his feet last night (a sign of poor circulation, and not a good sign at all) was a bit better, but otherwise, the situation is the same.
However, my aunt called Mom this afternoon to tell her that one of the nurses had given Dad morphine, rather than the vicoden that he has been taking for days. Mom blew her top, and called the nurse and tore her a new one. Mom's an artist at that, by the way. Black Sash, 5th degree. You see, the plan was to bring Dad home, get him settled, and THEN start him on the morphine. Once you're on morphine, you're staying on it until you're gone, and Mom had not yet approved that course of action. Dad's been getting on fine with the vicoden, she says, and now, he's in another time zone...he may not even care about getting home. In the nurses defense, a morphine IV injection IS on his chart as a prescribed med for his pain...she just didn't know all the details.
What's done is done, though. The next nurse specifically asked him if he wanted the pain pill or the morphine, and he requested the morphine.
Morphine or not, when we came in to see him after all this came down, he asked us to take his BiPAP mask off so that we could understand him. That accomplished, he said that Uncle Henry had come in to see him earlier in the day.
Uncle Henry: "William, do you want me to pray for you?"
My Dad: "Yeah, pray me up a bedpan!"
And Dad laughed at his own joke. He told us that Uncle Henry dutifully hustled off to find a nurse (Uncle Henry's not a licensed bedpan tech like me), and Dad laughed again. Then he asked us to replace his mask, and he rested from the effort of talking with us.
His body is wasting away, but he's still in there, sharp as a tack. The morphine is relaxing him a ton, and we are concerned that he may not make it home...but he's not in pain now. He's been having a lot of anxiety over his breathing, but now, that stress is far, far less. He's much more comfortable than before.
I'm still searching for the proper emotions regarding the 'jumping of the gun' in regards to Dad getting morphine. I know that no nurse would flippantly push morphine into someone's IV without at least looking carefully at the patients chart. If it didn't happen today, we might have put him on it tomorrow. Or the next day. And he'd have been suffering all the while we waited to approve the stuff.
I really think that we've done pretty much everything that can be done, and each day, we continue to do so. I wonder if the universe might have given a nurse a nudge in that direction so that a good man wouldn't suffer for longer than necessary. He might still make it home after all...we don't know. We're just going to continue with the plan of getting him home ASAP, once we can get things ironed out with the Hospice folks. His time is short, and we know that. We're as ready as we can be, and I know that's not nearly ready enough.
It's nice to know, at least, that Dad's still in there. He's fully aware of what's going on, and he's accepted it. He has chosen to face bravely forward, with his usual unflinching strength and wry humor. I hope and pray that when my time comes I can face it half as well as my dear father.
And by the way, to those of you who have emailed, texted, and commented to show your support...thank you. I'll never be able to repay you for helping me be strong right now.
However, my aunt called Mom this afternoon to tell her that one of the nurses had given Dad morphine, rather than the vicoden that he has been taking for days. Mom blew her top, and called the nurse and tore her a new one. Mom's an artist at that, by the way. Black Sash, 5th degree. You see, the plan was to bring Dad home, get him settled, and THEN start him on the morphine. Once you're on morphine, you're staying on it until you're gone, and Mom had not yet approved that course of action. Dad's been getting on fine with the vicoden, she says, and now, he's in another time zone...he may not even care about getting home. In the nurses defense, a morphine IV injection IS on his chart as a prescribed med for his pain...she just didn't know all the details.
What's done is done, though. The next nurse specifically asked him if he wanted the pain pill or the morphine, and he requested the morphine.
Morphine or not, when we came in to see him after all this came down, he asked us to take his BiPAP mask off so that we could understand him. That accomplished, he said that Uncle Henry had come in to see him earlier in the day.
Uncle Henry: "William, do you want me to pray for you?"
My Dad: "Yeah, pray me up a bedpan!"
And Dad laughed at his own joke. He told us that Uncle Henry dutifully hustled off to find a nurse (Uncle Henry's not a licensed bedpan tech like me), and Dad laughed again. Then he asked us to replace his mask, and he rested from the effort of talking with us.
His body is wasting away, but he's still in there, sharp as a tack. The morphine is relaxing him a ton, and we are concerned that he may not make it home...but he's not in pain now. He's been having a lot of anxiety over his breathing, but now, that stress is far, far less. He's much more comfortable than before.
I'm still searching for the proper emotions regarding the 'jumping of the gun' in regards to Dad getting morphine. I know that no nurse would flippantly push morphine into someone's IV without at least looking carefully at the patients chart. If it didn't happen today, we might have put him on it tomorrow. Or the next day. And he'd have been suffering all the while we waited to approve the stuff.
I really think that we've done pretty much everything that can be done, and each day, we continue to do so. I wonder if the universe might have given a nurse a nudge in that direction so that a good man wouldn't suffer for longer than necessary. He might still make it home after all...we don't know. We're just going to continue with the plan of getting him home ASAP, once we can get things ironed out with the Hospice folks. His time is short, and we know that. We're as ready as we can be, and I know that's not nearly ready enough.
It's nice to know, at least, that Dad's still in there. He's fully aware of what's going on, and he's accepted it. He has chosen to face bravely forward, with his usual unflinching strength and wry humor. I hope and pray that when my time comes I can face it half as well as my dear father.
And by the way, to those of you who have emailed, texted, and commented to show your support...thank you. I'll never be able to repay you for helping me be strong right now.
Saturday, October 04, 2008
Decisions.
I'll remember today. At least, parts of it. I've recounted most of what happened earlier, including the lung cancer diagnosis. Now for the latest news:
The lung cancer is of a type I've never heard. It's called malignant mesothelioma, and it's caused from previous exposure to asbestos. Amazingly, Dad didn't get it from smoking all those years. No, his prior work history is to blame this time. Long ago, Dad had the opportunity to join a class action suit against Dow, his employer of 30 years, and he declined. "Hell, I knew it was bad back then, but I chose to work. I'm not gonna sue them when I made the choice myself." Typical Dad. It's inoperable, by the way. In his current condition, he wouldn't survive chemo, radiation, and I don't think that surgery can even be done for this crap. Not that he would survive that, either.
Anyway, they found and identified the cancer cells from the fluid that they took from Dad's lungs. They take the fluid out, and it just comes right back. He's on a real Darth Vader mask now, a BiPAP. He's not getting better.
After spending the morning with Dad (and shuffling me around as well) we came back to Mom's house in the afternoon. Then, Mom got a call from the cancer doctor, and we left the house like it was on fire to get back to the hospital to talk with the doc. He was a very nice man, and he spoke with as much tact and clarity as is possible when delivering this type of diagnosis. We discussed options, the difference between Hospice and Home Care, and we talked about what Dad would probably want. Then, it was time to take all that info to Dad and hear his opinion.
We got back in the room and started to talk to Dad about the situation. As soon as we started talking about the cancer, he said, "Take this mask off!" Thinking he was about to jump out of the bed, we quickly helped him get it off, and then he said, "BEDPAN!" Apparently, he just needed to go, and wanted to make that desire perfectly clear.
Fortunately, I'm a licensed bedpan technician, so we were able to take care of him quickly and easily, but the whole effort still wore him out. Afterwards, we got him comfortable again, replaced the mask, and let him rest for a few minutes.
"I suppose y'all want my decision."
What? We were a touch surprised, thinking that he hadn't heard all of our discussion, but knowing Dad as we do, we should have figured that he'd be paying attention. We said yes, we did certainly want to hear his thoughts on the matter.
"Take me home...make me comfortable...and let me go."
...................................................
It was the tone of his voice that broke me. And inspired me. And reminded me why I love my Dad the way I do. I'm glad I was here to hear him say this. I don't think I've ever heard braver words spoken aloud. I'm just grateful that I've been able to spend this time with him.
There are more details, more thoughts and feelings, and yes, even more humorous commentary, but to be honest, I think I'm done for right now. I'll touch base again tomorrow sometime.
The lung cancer is of a type I've never heard. It's called malignant mesothelioma, and it's caused from previous exposure to asbestos. Amazingly, Dad didn't get it from smoking all those years. No, his prior work history is to blame this time. Long ago, Dad had the opportunity to join a class action suit against Dow, his employer of 30 years, and he declined. "Hell, I knew it was bad back then, but I chose to work. I'm not gonna sue them when I made the choice myself." Typical Dad. It's inoperable, by the way. In his current condition, he wouldn't survive chemo, radiation, and I don't think that surgery can even be done for this crap. Not that he would survive that, either.
Anyway, they found and identified the cancer cells from the fluid that they took from Dad's lungs. They take the fluid out, and it just comes right back. He's on a real Darth Vader mask now, a BiPAP. He's not getting better.
After spending the morning with Dad (and shuffling me around as well) we came back to Mom's house in the afternoon. Then, Mom got a call from the cancer doctor, and we left the house like it was on fire to get back to the hospital to talk with the doc. He was a very nice man, and he spoke with as much tact and clarity as is possible when delivering this type of diagnosis. We discussed options, the difference between Hospice and Home Care, and we talked about what Dad would probably want. Then, it was time to take all that info to Dad and hear his opinion.
We got back in the room and started to talk to Dad about the situation. As soon as we started talking about the cancer, he said, "Take this mask off!" Thinking he was about to jump out of the bed, we quickly helped him get it off, and then he said, "BEDPAN!" Apparently, he just needed to go, and wanted to make that desire perfectly clear.
Fortunately, I'm a licensed bedpan technician, so we were able to take care of him quickly and easily, but the whole effort still wore him out. Afterwards, we got him comfortable again, replaced the mask, and let him rest for a few minutes.
"I suppose y'all want my decision."
What? We were a touch surprised, thinking that he hadn't heard all of our discussion, but knowing Dad as we do, we should have figured that he'd be paying attention. We said yes, we did certainly want to hear his thoughts on the matter.
"Take me home...make me comfortable...and let me go."
...................................................
It was the tone of his voice that broke me. And inspired me. And reminded me why I love my Dad the way I do. I'm glad I was here to hear him say this. I don't think I've ever heard braver words spoken aloud. I'm just grateful that I've been able to spend this time with him.
There are more details, more thoughts and feelings, and yes, even more humorous commentary, but to be honest, I think I'm done for right now. I'll touch base again tomorrow sometime.
News...not good.
Day 4, October 4, 2008
Yesterday was mostly a blur. I chose to stay the night at Dad's room in case he needed anything. This meant no sleep whatsoever for me, but I was able to see that he was passing the night well, and the nurses were taking good care of him. Mom came and got me at 5am, and I crashed for a few hours at her house. Dad didn't improve much yesterday, still gurgling and not getting any stronger. However, I'm now a licensed bedpan specialist.
I did manage to sleep well last night, and awoke this morning to an empty house. I knew that Mom's an extremely early riser, so I called her cell. Things aren't going well this morning...Dad's struggling. She said she couldn't come get me, she was tied up with Dad. I told her I'd think of something.
You guessed it. The scooter. Did I mention Dad's scooter? I've been tooling around the neighborhood on it. I figured that Dad would have just jumped on it and headed out...so I followed his example.
I passed Mom on the way, and she u-turned to catch up with me in the hospital parking lot. Rather than berate me for driving it as I expected, she simply said, "Do you see any other scooters here?"
"No."
"That's because it'll be gone when you get back. Drive it home, and I'll bring you back up here."
"That's crazy! I'm already here!"
"Seriously, it'll be gone when you come out. Get moving."
Have I mentioned that there's no arguing with my Mom? I drove it home. It's a beautiful morning for a drive, anyway.
Now for the news, and it's not good: Dad's got lung cancer. We're going to have a cancer specialist look him over. If there's anything to be done, we want to know, but Dad's too weak for surgery, chemo, or radiation. What else is there to do? We'll find out if there is anything, but it doesn't look like there's much left at this point. If the options are exhausted, we're bringing him home and setting him up in a spare room, to make him as comfortable as possible until the end finally comes. With stronger pain medication, there's a chance he could just slip away before we can even get him home, but we'll just have to take it one step at a time.
Thanks for all your texts, emails, and comments. They really help. Your well-wishes and support will never be forgotten, and they really are helpful during all of this.
Hug your loved ones, folks, and talk to them. There comes a day when all of us deal with this stuff, one way or another. There will be things left unsaid, undone, tales untold, and there lie regrets. There is an awful lot of stuff I'll never know about my Dad...he's too far gone to regale me with tales of his colorful youth, so I'll never know what his favorite pastime was when he was a kid, or who was his first crush, or if he skipped school to go fishing. The stuff I know now is all I'm going to know.
But, I know he loves me. He knows I love him. We've had a good time as father and son, and reached a comfortable companionship over the years. I can certainly live with that.
I'll update when I can. Be well.
Yesterday was mostly a blur. I chose to stay the night at Dad's room in case he needed anything. This meant no sleep whatsoever for me, but I was able to see that he was passing the night well, and the nurses were taking good care of him. Mom came and got me at 5am, and I crashed for a few hours at her house. Dad didn't improve much yesterday, still gurgling and not getting any stronger. However, I'm now a licensed bedpan specialist.
I did manage to sleep well last night, and awoke this morning to an empty house. I knew that Mom's an extremely early riser, so I called her cell. Things aren't going well this morning...Dad's struggling. She said she couldn't come get me, she was tied up with Dad. I told her I'd think of something.
You guessed it. The scooter. Did I mention Dad's scooter? I've been tooling around the neighborhood on it. I figured that Dad would have just jumped on it and headed out...so I followed his example.
I passed Mom on the way, and she u-turned to catch up with me in the hospital parking lot. Rather than berate me for driving it as I expected, she simply said, "Do you see any other scooters here?"
"No."
"That's because it'll be gone when you get back. Drive it home, and I'll bring you back up here."
"That's crazy! I'm already here!"
"Seriously, it'll be gone when you come out. Get moving."
Have I mentioned that there's no arguing with my Mom? I drove it home. It's a beautiful morning for a drive, anyway.
Now for the news, and it's not good: Dad's got lung cancer. We're going to have a cancer specialist look him over. If there's anything to be done, we want to know, but Dad's too weak for surgery, chemo, or radiation. What else is there to do? We'll find out if there is anything, but it doesn't look like there's much left at this point. If the options are exhausted, we're bringing him home and setting him up in a spare room, to make him as comfortable as possible until the end finally comes. With stronger pain medication, there's a chance he could just slip away before we can even get him home, but we'll just have to take it one step at a time.
Thanks for all your texts, emails, and comments. They really help. Your well-wishes and support will never be forgotten, and they really are helpful during all of this.
Hug your loved ones, folks, and talk to them. There comes a day when all of us deal with this stuff, one way or another. There will be things left unsaid, undone, tales untold, and there lie regrets. There is an awful lot of stuff I'll never know about my Dad...he's too far gone to regale me with tales of his colorful youth, so I'll never know what his favorite pastime was when he was a kid, or who was his first crush, or if he skipped school to go fishing. The stuff I know now is all I'm going to know.
But, I know he loves me. He knows I love him. We've had a good time as father and son, and reached a comfortable companionship over the years. I can certainly live with that.
I'll update when I can. Be well.
Friday, October 03, 2008
Seeing Dad
Day 1, Wednesday, October 1, 2008
This morning began way, way too early. 3:40am, to be exact. That’s when my mother-in-law called to let me know that she was in our driveway, ready to come in and watch Connor while my fabulous wife drove me to the airport. To be honest, I don’t remember much about that time period, other than a quick, dark car ride to Houston Intercontinental Airport for a 6am flight to Chicago, then another to South Bend.
We got my ticket on Priceline, and ended up flying United. Even with the $15.00 charge for my one checked suitcase, I will strive to fly United every time from now on. The plane ride was the quietest I have ever experienced…it was quieter than my car! Seating was spacious, and we were greeted with soothing music as we got on board. Wow. This beat Continental hands down!
So I had a good trip to Chicago, but I still don’t remember most of it. I got to O’Hare on time, waddled over to the gate for my connecting flight, and waited. And waited. And waited. Thought about killing myself, changed my mind, then waited some more. Apparently, there was a ‘maintenance issue’ with our intended plane, so the guys in the hangar were sending another one. Or so we thought. Finally, after over an hour of waiting, the attendant announced that they had no idea of the location of our plane, so they were going to rebook us on another flight, which was scheduled to depart at 12:08pm, a full 2 hours after the original.
I could have gotten upset, but I figured I’d be grateful that they decided to put us on a fully functional plane a bit late, rather than a punctual but “Sanford and Son” plane that might have fallen out from under us. Once on the plane, I was pleased to see that it was a decently sized and comfortable plane with cute flight attendants. Sweeeeet. I dozed immediately, and awoke when the pilot announced our imminent landing in South Bend. I made it!
My brother came and picked me up, and it was great to catch up with him during the ride to my Mom’s. Once there, I jumped into her SUV, and we were off to see my Dad.
I finally found out that he actually turns 80 in 10 days (I was never really sure before), and finally, it looks like the years have caught up with him. I turned the corner to enter his hospital room, more than a little concerned at what I might find, but I was relieved to see…my Dad. Older, more shrunken, and wearing a Darth Vader breathing mask, but aside from that extraneous stuff, he’s still every inch my Dad. He hadn’t really eaten anything yet, saying he’s still too weak, but he lifted my spirits by popping off to Mom when she took a look at his IV insertion point and forgot to replace the covers. “Marr-rry!! Cover me up, I’m freezing!” Same old Dad. I could see the years that Mom and Dad have shared in the way she alternately fussed over him and then harassed him to no end. He’d generally respond with one-word answers until he got snarky right back at her. It was good to see that he still has his spirit. The man’s not done with this world just yet. He’s still fighting. “You know, your mother and I have been married for 39 years…and she’s just as mean today as the day I married her!” That got a smile and a quick retort from Mom.
Worried about bedsores, Mom asked me to help roll Dad on his side so she could check him out (none at all, thank goodness), and then we made him as comfortable as we could by rubbing lotion on his legs and feet, and getting more warm blankets. He managed almost a half a cup of warm broth and some tea before wearing out. Hey, when you haven’t eaten for 3 days, that tiny bit of food is a big deal. We’re hoping that this, coupled with the IV therapy that starts tonight, will help him to get over the hump and get well enough to come home.
There’s more, but I’m finally going cross-eyed from the lack of sleep. I’m going to attempt a shower before bed, and then I plan to count sheep until there are none left to count.
Day 2 Thursday, October 02, 2008
After more hours of sleep in a row than I’ve had in months, we were up and out the door at about 8:20am to see Dad. When we got there, he had his breakfast on a tray in front of him, and was actually eyeing it with some intent. Mom could only stay for a few minutes until she had to leave for her antibiotic shot (pneumonia, remember?), so she put in his teeth, and left me to feed him. We chatted a bit as I gave him a few forkfuls of biscuits with gravy and helped him with the orange juice. After a bit, he paused for a moment, and then said those fateful words: “I hate to tell you this, but I have to use the bedpan.”
Oh crap.
I figured it was urgent, so I hustled to find a bedpan and get it situated. In the heat of the moment, I was a bit nervous…I didn’t want Dad to have an accident because I was too slow, so I was scrambling around in a frantic search. I found one, managed to get it under Dad’s rear, but he kept saying “Is it under? It don’t feel like it’s under.” I tried to adjust it again before the nurses came in to rescue us.
This:
is NOT a bedpan. I don’t really know what it is, but it is not, I repeat, NOT a bedpan. I think it’s something you use if you need to puke.
This, however, IS a bedpan:
And let me tell you how hard the nurses had to try to keep from laughing at me, a nearly 40 year old man who didn’t know what the hell a bedpan looks like. I didn’t blame them…I’d have laughed at me, too.
Everything was OK after that. Using the bedpan was quite enough exercise for Dad, and after the nurse came in and helped him finish up, he asked me to take out his teeth and fix him up so he could take a nap. He’s resting comfortably now, finally getting more nourishment from that extra IV line as well as the few bites and sips of food he’s had. They’re bringing a big chair in so that he can sit up in it, rather than stay in bed the whole time, and start him walking again. He’s weak as a kitten, but that’s just his body. His spirit is just fine.
Although he is improving, we are all finding ways to prepare for the inevitable. As strong as his spirit may be, his body just won’t last much longer. It could go in a day, a week, a month…we just don’t know. All we can do is love him, and each other, and see what each moment brings. I know we’ll get by.
By the way, every single nurse that has seen me since the bedpan debacle has actually chuckled and waved at me. How nice.
A quick update from later that day:
A note about the big chair I mentioned: it’s kind of an industrial grade recliner, but it doesn’t act like the ones I’m used to. We put him in it after his tests, and as we got him situated, I put a blanket over his feet, and the extra weight nearly catapulted him across the room. Fortunately, I was there to catch him, and he wasn’t hurt at all…just a bit startled.
Mom showed up again soon afterwards, and we all spent time hanging out with Dad and getting him whatever he needed. Since Dad’s pretty hard of hearing, Mom bellows at him so loudly that it’s actually funny. Likewise, Dad’s responses are still feisty enough to make us laugh. It’s the same way they’ve spoken to each other for nearly 40 years, and that’s just how they roll.
Dad had ordered a Chef Salad, but was too wrung out from tests and various bedpan escapades to eat it, but Mom did manage to get him to take some broth, pudding, and tea. We sat with him for awhile, getting him waffle boots to keep his feet from getting bedsores, turning him every so often, and making sure he was warm and comfortable as possible. Dad rests a lot…just going to the bathroom tears him up the way the half-marathon whips me, so most of the time, there’s not that much for me to do.
Sometimes, I worry that I should be doing more, like reading to him or talking to him more. I know that I won’t have much more time with him…the hours are ticking away, and I have no idea how many are left. However, he assures me that he’s happy to just know that I’m here, and he’s not up to listening to me reading western stories, or to my typically ridiculous anecdotes. I do what I can, and when I don’t know what to do (bedpan issues come to mind), I call the nurses and ask how I can help, even if it means to just stay out of their way while they do their jobs. When Dad’s gone, how much I did for him here in the hospital won’t matter to him a single bit…but it will matter to me. He’s been a great father, so I feel I should be here to do whatever I can to help him through this time.
After dinner, I gathered up some of my toys and came back to the hospital to stay the night, just in case he needs something. I’ll probably doze off at some point, but I can always crash later in the day if need be. I brought my books, some martial arts DVD’s, music, and of course, my laptop. Even though there’s no WiFi here (CAN YOU FRIGGIN’ BELIEVE THAT??!!), I can still get my thoughts down and work on other projects while I’m here.
By the way, I feel I should mention the fact that I’ve been joking with everyone as much as possible ever since I set foot on the ground here. I hope I don’t upset anyone. Some might wonder at the fact that I can joke at all, with my father in such dire shape. They might wonder if I love my Dad. ”How can he be so…so…happy?” they might ask. Well, let me clarify this for you. I’m not happy that he’s in this situation. I’m not happy that I’m probably about to lose my Dad very soon. I’m not happy that my Mom is going to have to live without him when they’ve been together for nearly 40 years. No, I don’t joke because I’m happy, people.
I make jokes because I love my father very much. He and Mom both taught me to be strong in tough situations, because screaming “Why me?” to the heavens never brings a satisfactory answer. Fathers die…all of them. That’s just a part of life, and joking is how I get through each and every day of mine. Dad taught me that a long time ago, and I don’t see a reason to toss out that lesson now. In fact, now’s probably the best time for me to use it. So laugh with me, please. Dad prefers that.
This morning began way, way too early. 3:40am, to be exact. That’s when my mother-in-law called to let me know that she was in our driveway, ready to come in and watch Connor while my fabulous wife drove me to the airport. To be honest, I don’t remember much about that time period, other than a quick, dark car ride to Houston Intercontinental Airport for a 6am flight to Chicago, then another to South Bend.
We got my ticket on Priceline, and ended up flying United. Even with the $15.00 charge for my one checked suitcase, I will strive to fly United every time from now on. The plane ride was the quietest I have ever experienced…it was quieter than my car! Seating was spacious, and we were greeted with soothing music as we got on board. Wow. This beat Continental hands down!
So I had a good trip to Chicago, but I still don’t remember most of it. I got to O’Hare on time, waddled over to the gate for my connecting flight, and waited. And waited. And waited. Thought about killing myself, changed my mind, then waited some more. Apparently, there was a ‘maintenance issue’ with our intended plane, so the guys in the hangar were sending another one. Or so we thought. Finally, after over an hour of waiting, the attendant announced that they had no idea of the location of our plane, so they were going to rebook us on another flight, which was scheduled to depart at 12:08pm, a full 2 hours after the original.
I could have gotten upset, but I figured I’d be grateful that they decided to put us on a fully functional plane a bit late, rather than a punctual but “Sanford and Son” plane that might have fallen out from under us. Once on the plane, I was pleased to see that it was a decently sized and comfortable plane with cute flight attendants. Sweeeeet. I dozed immediately, and awoke when the pilot announced our imminent landing in South Bend. I made it!
My brother came and picked me up, and it was great to catch up with him during the ride to my Mom’s. Once there, I jumped into her SUV, and we were off to see my Dad.
I finally found out that he actually turns 80 in 10 days (I was never really sure before), and finally, it looks like the years have caught up with him. I turned the corner to enter his hospital room, more than a little concerned at what I might find, but I was relieved to see…my Dad. Older, more shrunken, and wearing a Darth Vader breathing mask, but aside from that extraneous stuff, he’s still every inch my Dad. He hadn’t really eaten anything yet, saying he’s still too weak, but he lifted my spirits by popping off to Mom when she took a look at his IV insertion point and forgot to replace the covers. “Marr-rry!! Cover me up, I’m freezing!” Same old Dad. I could see the years that Mom and Dad have shared in the way she alternately fussed over him and then harassed him to no end. He’d generally respond with one-word answers until he got snarky right back at her. It was good to see that he still has his spirit. The man’s not done with this world just yet. He’s still fighting. “You know, your mother and I have been married for 39 years…and she’s just as mean today as the day I married her!” That got a smile and a quick retort from Mom.
Worried about bedsores, Mom asked me to help roll Dad on his side so she could check him out (none at all, thank goodness), and then we made him as comfortable as we could by rubbing lotion on his legs and feet, and getting more warm blankets. He managed almost a half a cup of warm broth and some tea before wearing out. Hey, when you haven’t eaten for 3 days, that tiny bit of food is a big deal. We’re hoping that this, coupled with the IV therapy that starts tonight, will help him to get over the hump and get well enough to come home.
There’s more, but I’m finally going cross-eyed from the lack of sleep. I’m going to attempt a shower before bed, and then I plan to count sheep until there are none left to count.
Day 2 Thursday, October 02, 2008
After more hours of sleep in a row than I’ve had in months, we were up and out the door at about 8:20am to see Dad. When we got there, he had his breakfast on a tray in front of him, and was actually eyeing it with some intent. Mom could only stay for a few minutes until she had to leave for her antibiotic shot (pneumonia, remember?), so she put in his teeth, and left me to feed him. We chatted a bit as I gave him a few forkfuls of biscuits with gravy and helped him with the orange juice. After a bit, he paused for a moment, and then said those fateful words: “I hate to tell you this, but I have to use the bedpan.”
Oh crap.
I figured it was urgent, so I hustled to find a bedpan and get it situated. In the heat of the moment, I was a bit nervous…I didn’t want Dad to have an accident because I was too slow, so I was scrambling around in a frantic search. I found one, managed to get it under Dad’s rear, but he kept saying “Is it under? It don’t feel like it’s under.” I tried to adjust it again before the nurses came in to rescue us.
This:
is NOT a bedpan. I don’t really know what it is, but it is not, I repeat, NOT a bedpan. I think it’s something you use if you need to puke.
This, however, IS a bedpan:
And let me tell you how hard the nurses had to try to keep from laughing at me, a nearly 40 year old man who didn’t know what the hell a bedpan looks like. I didn’t blame them…I’d have laughed at me, too.
Everything was OK after that. Using the bedpan was quite enough exercise for Dad, and after the nurse came in and helped him finish up, he asked me to take out his teeth and fix him up so he could take a nap. He’s resting comfortably now, finally getting more nourishment from that extra IV line as well as the few bites and sips of food he’s had. They’re bringing a big chair in so that he can sit up in it, rather than stay in bed the whole time, and start him walking again. He’s weak as a kitten, but that’s just his body. His spirit is just fine.
Although he is improving, we are all finding ways to prepare for the inevitable. As strong as his spirit may be, his body just won’t last much longer. It could go in a day, a week, a month…we just don’t know. All we can do is love him, and each other, and see what each moment brings. I know we’ll get by.
By the way, every single nurse that has seen me since the bedpan debacle has actually chuckled and waved at me. How nice.
A quick update from later that day:
A note about the big chair I mentioned: it’s kind of an industrial grade recliner, but it doesn’t act like the ones I’m used to. We put him in it after his tests, and as we got him situated, I put a blanket over his feet, and the extra weight nearly catapulted him across the room. Fortunately, I was there to catch him, and he wasn’t hurt at all…just a bit startled.
Mom showed up again soon afterwards, and we all spent time hanging out with Dad and getting him whatever he needed. Since Dad’s pretty hard of hearing, Mom bellows at him so loudly that it’s actually funny. Likewise, Dad’s responses are still feisty enough to make us laugh. It’s the same way they’ve spoken to each other for nearly 40 years, and that’s just how they roll.
Dad had ordered a Chef Salad, but was too wrung out from tests and various bedpan escapades to eat it, but Mom did manage to get him to take some broth, pudding, and tea. We sat with him for awhile, getting him waffle boots to keep his feet from getting bedsores, turning him every so often, and making sure he was warm and comfortable as possible. Dad rests a lot…just going to the bathroom tears him up the way the half-marathon whips me, so most of the time, there’s not that much for me to do.
Sometimes, I worry that I should be doing more, like reading to him or talking to him more. I know that I won’t have much more time with him…the hours are ticking away, and I have no idea how many are left. However, he assures me that he’s happy to just know that I’m here, and he’s not up to listening to me reading western stories, or to my typically ridiculous anecdotes. I do what I can, and when I don’t know what to do (bedpan issues come to mind), I call the nurses and ask how I can help, even if it means to just stay out of their way while they do their jobs. When Dad’s gone, how much I did for him here in the hospital won’t matter to him a single bit…but it will matter to me. He’s been a great father, so I feel I should be here to do whatever I can to help him through this time.
After dinner, I gathered up some of my toys and came back to the hospital to stay the night, just in case he needs something. I’ll probably doze off at some point, but I can always crash later in the day if need be. I brought my books, some martial arts DVD’s, music, and of course, my laptop. Even though there’s no WiFi here (CAN YOU FRIGGIN’ BELIEVE THAT??!!), I can still get my thoughts down and work on other projects while I’m here.
By the way, I feel I should mention the fact that I’ve been joking with everyone as much as possible ever since I set foot on the ground here. I hope I don’t upset anyone. Some might wonder at the fact that I can joke at all, with my father in such dire shape. They might wonder if I love my Dad. ”How can he be so…so…happy?” they might ask. Well, let me clarify this for you. I’m not happy that he’s in this situation. I’m not happy that I’m probably about to lose my Dad very soon. I’m not happy that my Mom is going to have to live without him when they’ve been together for nearly 40 years. No, I don’t joke because I’m happy, people.
I make jokes because I love my father very much. He and Mom both taught me to be strong in tough situations, because screaming “Why me?” to the heavens never brings a satisfactory answer. Fathers die…all of them. That’s just a part of life, and joking is how I get through each and every day of mine. Dad taught me that a long time ago, and I don’t see a reason to toss out that lesson now. In fact, now’s probably the best time for me to use it. So laugh with me, please. Dad prefers that.
Monday, September 29, 2008
There Have Been Better Days...
Word from up north is not that encouraging today. Dad’s not eating, and he’s sleeping quite a bit. Add to that the fact that Mom now has pneumonia and a fever. Sheesh. I know that Dad’s illness is stressing Mom to pieces, and stress lowers the strength of your immune system, so….bingo: pneumonia. Of course, she still plans to just tough it out and do whatever the heck she feels like doing. However, pneumonia with a 103.8° fever is a pretty big monkey to carry on your back, and it showed.
My Aunt Linda, and Uncle Robert (bless them) have been in the hospital pretty much the whole time Dad’s been in there, and Uncle Robert managed to get Mom to head home, take a cold shower, take her meds, and get her feverish butt in bed. He did so by simply saying this: “Mary, if you don’t go home right now and get in the shower, I’ll take you home and put you in there myself…and that’s gonna embarrass the both of us. I’d rather not do that, so get moving.” Wonder of wonders, she did. Knowing Uncle Robert, he’d have done it.
So I’ve been a bit distracted today, worried about my parents. Mom’s tough as old shoe leather (that’s just an expression, Mom…I’m not in any way saying that you LOOK like old shoe leather), but she’s still human. My father’s toughness is freakin’ legendary throughout our family on both sides, but he apparently has his limits. I just hate that we may have finally found out exactly what those limits are.
He’s not done yet, though, and I’m not quite ready to start talking about the good old days I’ve had with him as though he’s already gone. That old man is, in his quiet, stubborn way, still kicking and scratching, clawing and biting, even though it seems to the naked eye that he’s just laying quietly in bed, dozing. It would not surprise me in the least if he perked up tomorrow and started annoying the doctors and nurses again. It’s happened before. I mean, the man has kicked cancer in its proverbial nutsack not once, but twice. A death sentence for some has been nothing but an inconvenience to him. This is a man who lost his left hand in an unbelievably painful fashion while in his thirties, and yet never complained about it within my hearing…NOT. ONE. TIME. He’s a fighter. So I think it’s not unreasonable to hope he gets better, even just for awhile. Hopefully, he’ll challenge me to a grappling match this time. I mean, it should finally be a fair fight since he’s only got one hand, right?
Thanks for the well-wishes, folks. I’ll try and keep y’all updated.
My Aunt Linda, and Uncle Robert (bless them) have been in the hospital pretty much the whole time Dad’s been in there, and Uncle Robert managed to get Mom to head home, take a cold shower, take her meds, and get her feverish butt in bed. He did so by simply saying this: “Mary, if you don’t go home right now and get in the shower, I’ll take you home and put you in there myself…and that’s gonna embarrass the both of us. I’d rather not do that, so get moving.” Wonder of wonders, she did. Knowing Uncle Robert, he’d have done it.
So I’ve been a bit distracted today, worried about my parents. Mom’s tough as old shoe leather (that’s just an expression, Mom…I’m not in any way saying that you LOOK like old shoe leather), but she’s still human. My father’s toughness is freakin’ legendary throughout our family on both sides, but he apparently has his limits. I just hate that we may have finally found out exactly what those limits are.
He’s not done yet, though, and I’m not quite ready to start talking about the good old days I’ve had with him as though he’s already gone. That old man is, in his quiet, stubborn way, still kicking and scratching, clawing and biting, even though it seems to the naked eye that he’s just laying quietly in bed, dozing. It would not surprise me in the least if he perked up tomorrow and started annoying the doctors and nurses again. It’s happened before. I mean, the man has kicked cancer in its proverbial nutsack not once, but twice. A death sentence for some has been nothing but an inconvenience to him. This is a man who lost his left hand in an unbelievably painful fashion while in his thirties, and yet never complained about it within my hearing…NOT. ONE. TIME. He’s a fighter. So I think it’s not unreasonable to hope he gets better, even just for awhile. Hopefully, he’ll challenge me to a grappling match this time. I mean, it should finally be a fair fight since he’s only got one hand, right?
Thanks for the well-wishes, folks. I’ll try and keep y’all updated.
Sunday, September 28, 2008
Eddie Bravo seminar...cool, dude.
Yesterday, one of my assistant instructors and I drove up to Waxahachie, TX for a seminar by Eddie Bravo. If you're not familiar with Mr. Bravo, he is (according to Wikipedia) "an American practitioner of Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu who holds a black belt under Jean-Jacques Machado. He is most famous for his win as a brown belt against Royler Gracie by triangle choke in the Abu Dhabi Submission Wrestling championships the year 2003, and his unique style of no-gi Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu, called 10th Planet Jiu-Jitsu." BJJ Black Belt Paul Thomas was cool enough to bring Eddie down for a seminar back in 2004, and I really enjoyed the exposure to his system.
Since then, we've been working through his techniques at my school, so we welcomed a chance to work with Eddie and gain some additional insight into his system... we were not disappointed! Eddie is a funny, personable guy, who is so comfortable with his expertise in his system that he has no problem telling everyone "I'm only at about a purple belt level when attacking this arm. But this arm...different story." I like that. He's open, honest, and willing to help every single person in the seminar, whether they were inexperienced newbies or folks who had been training for years. It was well worth the drive and the money, to be sure. At some point, we might very well end up a 10th Planet affiliate...but that'll be a long way off. A long way. In the meantime, we'll keep training, add more competitions to our plan, and see what we can do.
After the seminar, I enjoyed catching up with my cousin, Robin, and her family. It's hard to believe how her boys have grown! Time flies. Next time, I'm bringing my fabulous wife and son so they can all run around together and cause trouble while I train with Eddie. ;-)
My Dad should be out of the hospital soon. The antibiotics seem to be helping, so he's feeling quite a bit better. Even so, I've already bought my plane ticket to go up and visit for a week. Thanks, Priceline! I've never loved William Shatner so much, until he got me a far-less-than-half-price ticket to South Bend, Indiana! I figure that it's better to go hang out with Dad now, while he's feeling better, rather than wait until there's an emergency and risk getting there too late. I'm looking forward to hanging out with the family, and annoying Dad with questions about his youth.
The weather is cooling down, and there's a taste of fall in the air. I love this time of year!! October, with Halloween, my birthday, our wedding anniversary, the Ren Fest, and memories of the Brazoria County Fair, is definitely my favorite month of the year. Any suggestions for a Halloween costume? Anyone?
Take care, folks. And tell someone that you love them. Who knows how many chances you might have to do so.
Since then, we've been working through his techniques at my school, so we welcomed a chance to work with Eddie and gain some additional insight into his system... we were not disappointed! Eddie is a funny, personable guy, who is so comfortable with his expertise in his system that he has no problem telling everyone "I'm only at about a purple belt level when attacking this arm. But this arm...different story." I like that. He's open, honest, and willing to help every single person in the seminar, whether they were inexperienced newbies or folks who had been training for years. It was well worth the drive and the money, to be sure. At some point, we might very well end up a 10th Planet affiliate...but that'll be a long way off. A long way. In the meantime, we'll keep training, add more competitions to our plan, and see what we can do.
After the seminar, I enjoyed catching up with my cousin, Robin, and her family. It's hard to believe how her boys have grown! Time flies. Next time, I'm bringing my fabulous wife and son so they can all run around together and cause trouble while I train with Eddie. ;-)
My Dad should be out of the hospital soon. The antibiotics seem to be helping, so he's feeling quite a bit better. Even so, I've already bought my plane ticket to go up and visit for a week. Thanks, Priceline! I've never loved William Shatner so much, until he got me a far-less-than-half-price ticket to South Bend, Indiana! I figure that it's better to go hang out with Dad now, while he's feeling better, rather than wait until there's an emergency and risk getting there too late. I'm looking forward to hanging out with the family, and annoying Dad with questions about his youth.
The weather is cooling down, and there's a taste of fall in the air. I love this time of year!! October, with Halloween, my birthday, our wedding anniversary, the Ren Fest, and memories of the Brazoria County Fair, is definitely my favorite month of the year. Any suggestions for a Halloween costume? Anyone?
Take care, folks. And tell someone that you love them. Who knows how many chances you might have to do so.
Sunday, September 21, 2008
Dad Update, and a Survey
The word from up north is that Dad's doing better. Getting around on his own, eating more, and generally being cantankerous, so that's all extremely good news. Hopefully, he'll be up to his old tricks at the bowling alley or with the snowblower before too long.
So...here's a little survey for a lazy Sunday...
Have you had any beer this week?
Nope…that’s some nasty stuff, and it’s just not for me.
Are you happy with life?
There’s always something that’s temporarily out of reach, but all in all, I’m really, really happy with my situation. I have a great family and great friends, food on the table, and a job that I just LOVE.
Could you cry right now?
Ordinarily, I can cry at the drop of a hat, but at this moment, I’m just not finding anything sad enough or moving enough to bring on those tears
Are you a jealous person?
Far less so than I used to be.
Who do you text the most out of your friends?
That’d be BB.
If you could see one person right now, who would it be?
I do miss my wife (she’s at a scrapbooking retreat)…but I wouldn’t pass up a chance to spank Kelly Clarkson, it’s true. She’s naughty.
What were you doing this morning at 6:30am?
Sleeping like the dead.
What do you need to be doing right now?
Housework. I’ve already done the dishes, so I’m taking a break before tackling the rest.
Where have you lived throughout your life?
Angleton, TX, College Station, TX, Lake Jackson, TX, Houston, TX, and Katy, TX.
Where was your default picture taken?
If I remember correctly, in an airport in Minnesota.
Is there anything silver near you?
My digital camera is kind of chromy-colored…does that count?
What were you doing at 1 AM this morning?
I think I was reading in bed.
Do you wear contacts?
I used to, but my eyesight has seemed to improve over the last couple of years.
What color shirt are you wearing?
White t-shirt, and a green apron. Yeah, I know…sexy!!
Song playing right now?
The Warrior by Scandal. Yes, it’s an 80’s kind of Sunday.
Where were you Friday night?
At Jade Mountain, meeting with my assistant instructors, who are an absolutely fabulous bunch of folks.
Do you wear the seat belt in the car?
Oh, yeah. I consider myself a pretty safe driver these days, but there’s no shortage of idiots out there.
Has anyone ever mistaken you for someone else?
Not that I know of, although there have been a deluded few who commented on a resemblance to Brendan Fraser.
Next vacation you're going on?
Hmmmmm…not sure. We’ll probably go see my folks in Indiana at Christmas.
Do you like to text or call more?
I just LOVE to talk on the phone.
Have you ever kissed someone whose name started with a J?
After checking my lists (that took about .8 seconds), the answer is ‘nope.’
Who last sent you a myspace message?
Paula, an old friend from high school.
Whose bed did you sleep in last night?
The usual. Ours.
Have you held hands with anyone in the past week?
Oh, sure. I hold hands with Monkey every time we walk through a parking lot, and I love to hold hands with my wife when we go out.
What's the last book you've read?
The Navigator by Clive Cussler. Lots of fast-paced adventure!
What are you doing tomorrow?
Working out, teaching, making plans and getting stuff done.
Do you like to cuddle?
I really do, but not for hours. I get cramped if I stay in the same position too long, even if it’s a good position!
What are you doing right now?
Now, why do surveys ask this question? If I’m going to answer this silly thing with any kind of coherence, I need to be paying attention to what I’m doing…right now…which is this survey! Geez. Let me insert my own question here to counteract this silliness…
Where do you see yourself in 5 years?
I see myself as the head of a small martial arts association that is devoted to the progress of its students, no matter what their skill or talent level. I see myself helping a select few of my students to run their own schools, and gain the joy and fulfillment from martial arts that I have. I see having a slightly larger home due to the addition of another little monkey. And I see myself fending off the almost constant flirtations of Kelly Clarkson and Cathy Dennis. Please, ladies!! There’s enough of me to go around!
Do you have a dog?
No, but I do miss our pugs, Beauty and Beast. They were goofy, snuffling, snorting, fuzzy balls of love.
Three things you feel right now?
Inspired, determined, comfortable. I know…odd.
Are you ticklish?
Why do you want to know? Do you have plans that I should know about? Should I limber up?
Who has your myspace password?
I think just me, but it’s not a big deal around here.
Is the last person you kissed mad at you?
No, my son is having fun and looking forward to part 2 of our Star Wars movie marathon.
Can you last in a relationship for longer then a year?
Let’s check my track record…married my high school sweetheart, stayed together for 12 years. I’m now married to my true love and soulmate, and we’ve been together for almost 11 years. I’m not terribly flaky in that area, folks.
Have you ever had your heart broken?
Oh, yes.
Are you hungry?
That’s like asking me if I’m breathing. Yes, usually.
Does someone like you right now?
Geez, I would certainly hope so!!
Is there a person of the opposite sex that means a lot to you?
You mean, just one person? Yes, of course. There are several in fact…right, Mom?
Have you ever felt replaced?
Um…wow, I don’t think I have. Interesting.
What's stressing you right now?
There have been some organizational changes with my former martial arts association, but I’ve accepted those, so…not really, no.
If you HAD to dye your hair right now, what color would you choose?
What, like the mob is going to waste my family if I don’t dye my hair? Fine…uh…green.
Do your best friends all like each other?
Yep. We all have quite a bit in common. That’s why they are my best friends, and they get along just fine.
Do you remember who you liked in grade seven?
Man, I had probably a crush a month in Junior High…Susan Viator sticks out in my mind, though. I thought she was just beautiful. And like a typical dork, I never said a word to her…just too shy!
Who was the last person you flirted with?
If I’ve flirted with you, would you mind telling me? My skills in that area are quite pitiful, and I’d like to know if I somehow, unknowingly flirted properly.
When did you go back to school?
I’m pretty sure that I’m done with Academia. I love learning new things, so I read a lot, and I love to train and learn new martial arts skills.
How much older than you was the first person you kissed, if they were older?
Is this survey directed at young girls, or what? I was older than the first person I kissed…I think.
What's something that you want to buy, realistically?
A crash pad for my school.
When's your mother's birthday?
October 27.
If you could only see one more artist or band in concert during your lifetime, who would you choose?
Come on…if you know me at all, do you really have to ask?
Who's birthday was last?
Of my immediate family, The Monkey turned 6 last November.
Who's birthday is next?
My darling wife's is this week. Oh CRAP!! IT’S THIS WEEK!!! I’d better get moving…SHOOT!!
What…that’s it? I was just hitting my stride, here! I’m gonna go think of more questions….y’all have a great Sunday.
So...here's a little survey for a lazy Sunday...
Have you had any beer this week?
Nope…that’s some nasty stuff, and it’s just not for me.
Are you happy with life?
There’s always something that’s temporarily out of reach, but all in all, I’m really, really happy with my situation. I have a great family and great friends, food on the table, and a job that I just LOVE.
Could you cry right now?
Ordinarily, I can cry at the drop of a hat, but at this moment, I’m just not finding anything sad enough or moving enough to bring on those tears
Are you a jealous person?
Far less so than I used to be.
Who do you text the most out of your friends?
That’d be BB.
If you could see one person right now, who would it be?
I do miss my wife (she’s at a scrapbooking retreat)…but I wouldn’t pass up a chance to spank Kelly Clarkson, it’s true. She’s naughty.
What were you doing this morning at 6:30am?
Sleeping like the dead.
What do you need to be doing right now?
Housework. I’ve already done the dishes, so I’m taking a break before tackling the rest.
Where have you lived throughout your life?
Angleton, TX, College Station, TX, Lake Jackson, TX, Houston, TX, and Katy, TX.
Where was your default picture taken?
If I remember correctly, in an airport in Minnesota.
Is there anything silver near you?
My digital camera is kind of chromy-colored…does that count?
What were you doing at 1 AM this morning?
I think I was reading in bed.
Do you wear contacts?
I used to, but my eyesight has seemed to improve over the last couple of years.
What color shirt are you wearing?
White t-shirt, and a green apron. Yeah, I know…sexy!!
Song playing right now?
The Warrior by Scandal. Yes, it’s an 80’s kind of Sunday.
Where were you Friday night?
At Jade Mountain, meeting with my assistant instructors, who are an absolutely fabulous bunch of folks.
Do you wear the seat belt in the car?
Oh, yeah. I consider myself a pretty safe driver these days, but there’s no shortage of idiots out there.
Has anyone ever mistaken you for someone else?
Not that I know of, although there have been a deluded few who commented on a resemblance to Brendan Fraser.
Next vacation you're going on?
Hmmmmm…not sure. We’ll probably go see my folks in Indiana at Christmas.
Do you like to text or call more?
I just LOVE to talk on the phone.
Have you ever kissed someone whose name started with a J?
After checking my lists (that took about .8 seconds), the answer is ‘nope.’
Who last sent you a myspace message?
Paula, an old friend from high school.
Whose bed did you sleep in last night?
The usual. Ours.
Have you held hands with anyone in the past week?
Oh, sure. I hold hands with Monkey every time we walk through a parking lot, and I love to hold hands with my wife when we go out.
What's the last book you've read?
The Navigator by Clive Cussler. Lots of fast-paced adventure!
What are you doing tomorrow?
Working out, teaching, making plans and getting stuff done.
Do you like to cuddle?
I really do, but not for hours. I get cramped if I stay in the same position too long, even if it’s a good position!
What are you doing right now?
Now, why do surveys ask this question? If I’m going to answer this silly thing with any kind of coherence, I need to be paying attention to what I’m doing…right now…which is this survey! Geez. Let me insert my own question here to counteract this silliness…
Where do you see yourself in 5 years?
I see myself as the head of a small martial arts association that is devoted to the progress of its students, no matter what their skill or talent level. I see myself helping a select few of my students to run their own schools, and gain the joy and fulfillment from martial arts that I have. I see having a slightly larger home due to the addition of another little monkey. And I see myself fending off the almost constant flirtations of Kelly Clarkson and Cathy Dennis. Please, ladies!! There’s enough of me to go around!
Do you have a dog?
No, but I do miss our pugs, Beauty and Beast. They were goofy, snuffling, snorting, fuzzy balls of love.
Three things you feel right now?
Inspired, determined, comfortable. I know…odd.
Are you ticklish?
Why do you want to know? Do you have plans that I should know about? Should I limber up?
Who has your myspace password?
I think just me, but it’s not a big deal around here.
Is the last person you kissed mad at you?
No, my son is having fun and looking forward to part 2 of our Star Wars movie marathon.
Can you last in a relationship for longer then a year?
Let’s check my track record…married my high school sweetheart, stayed together for 12 years. I’m now married to my true love and soulmate, and we’ve been together for almost 11 years. I’m not terribly flaky in that area, folks.
Have you ever had your heart broken?
Oh, yes.
Are you hungry?
That’s like asking me if I’m breathing. Yes, usually.
Does someone like you right now?
Geez, I would certainly hope so!!
Is there a person of the opposite sex that means a lot to you?
You mean, just one person? Yes, of course. There are several in fact…right, Mom?
Have you ever felt replaced?
Um…wow, I don’t think I have. Interesting.
What's stressing you right now?
There have been some organizational changes with my former martial arts association, but I’ve accepted those, so…not really, no.
If you HAD to dye your hair right now, what color would you choose?
What, like the mob is going to waste my family if I don’t dye my hair? Fine…uh…green.
Do your best friends all like each other?
Yep. We all have quite a bit in common. That’s why they are my best friends, and they get along just fine.
Do you remember who you liked in grade seven?
Man, I had probably a crush a month in Junior High…Susan Viator sticks out in my mind, though. I thought she was just beautiful. And like a typical dork, I never said a word to her…just too shy!
Who was the last person you flirted with?
If I’ve flirted with you, would you mind telling me? My skills in that area are quite pitiful, and I’d like to know if I somehow, unknowingly flirted properly.
When did you go back to school?
I’m pretty sure that I’m done with Academia. I love learning new things, so I read a lot, and I love to train and learn new martial arts skills.
How much older than you was the first person you kissed, if they were older?
Is this survey directed at young girls, or what? I was older than the first person I kissed…I think.
What's something that you want to buy, realistically?
A crash pad for my school.
When's your mother's birthday?
October 27.
If you could only see one more artist or band in concert during your lifetime, who would you choose?
Come on…if you know me at all, do you really have to ask?
Who's birthday was last?
Of my immediate family, The Monkey turned 6 last November.
Who's birthday is next?
My darling wife's is this week. Oh CRAP!! IT’S THIS WEEK!!! I’d better get moving…SHOOT!!
What…that’s it? I was just hitting my stride, here! I’m gonna go think of more questions….y’all have a great Sunday.
Saturday, September 20, 2008
Happenings, feelings, and my freakin' strong boy...
It's been a busy week around here, in many ways. Hurricane Ike left quite a bit of stuff to do, and many of us were lucky in that we only had to contend with gas shortages and power loss. My ailing father returned home from the hospital yesterday, and is feeling more perky today (more on that later). There have been some major adjustments at my martial arts school that I won't go into here, save to say that I'm looking into the future with renewed enthusiasm and freedom, but there's also a bittersweetness to that whole situation.
Here's what happened with my strong son today. His fantastic Mom is away at a scrapbooking retreat this weekend, so Monkey's been with me. Generally, he's pretty well-behaved at my school, and he was entertaining himself for much of the morning with some DVD's in the office. He got bored with them eventually, and wandered into the school, looking for something to do. He started playing around with the weight equipment that we keep in the corner for strength training. As soon as I saw what he was doing, I watched for a bit to see that he was safe, and then went over there to help him out...and brought one of my students with me to film it. Here's the result:
As I mentioned in the clip, he's only about 64 pounds fully clothed. He was doing a Lat Pulldown with 70 lbs. The ones he did before the video was shot actually looked far better than these, but he was just playing around. Go figure. And before anyone get started on me, let me remind you all that I watched him do this by himself for several minutes before I came over to help hold him down...he was doing it for fun, not because I'm trying to make a man out of him.
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As I said earlier, my 80yr old Dad is back from the hospital, and feeling better. When I was talking to Mom today, we spoke briefly about the preparations that are in place just in case his time finally comes. She mentioned that everything's already planned out and paid for, including his trip back home to be buried in the family graveyard near Greenville, TX. He also had firmly refused the casket she had picked out for him. Apparently, he didn't share Mom's taste in final resting vessels...not manly enough. "That thing's too dern sissified...you got any pine boxes back there?"
He's home now, and had a wonderful meal of tamales, refried beans, and buttermilk. "Hey, I didn't plan the meal...that's what he wanted." says Mom.
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Have a fabulous weekend, folks. And don't be afraid to follow your dream. It could be a silly, frivolous thing (singing karaoke), or something monumental (climbing Mt. McKinley in Alaska, North America's tallest mountain peak). But have courage, and do the things that call to you. Make your Bucket List now, and get to work. Life can be unbearably short, you know.
PS I know someone who's headed to Alaska next year...guess what they're doing?
Here's what happened with my strong son today. His fantastic Mom is away at a scrapbooking retreat this weekend, so Monkey's been with me. Generally, he's pretty well-behaved at my school, and he was entertaining himself for much of the morning with some DVD's in the office. He got bored with them eventually, and wandered into the school, looking for something to do. He started playing around with the weight equipment that we keep in the corner for strength training. As soon as I saw what he was doing, I watched for a bit to see that he was safe, and then went over there to help him out...and brought one of my students with me to film it. Here's the result:
As I mentioned in the clip, he's only about 64 pounds fully clothed. He was doing a Lat Pulldown with 70 lbs. The ones he did before the video was shot actually looked far better than these, but he was just playing around. Go figure. And before anyone get started on me, let me remind you all that I watched him do this by himself for several minutes before I came over to help hold him down...he was doing it for fun, not because I'm trying to make a man out of him.
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As I said earlier, my 80yr old Dad is back from the hospital, and feeling better. When I was talking to Mom today, we spoke briefly about the preparations that are in place just in case his time finally comes. She mentioned that everything's already planned out and paid for, including his trip back home to be buried in the family graveyard near Greenville, TX. He also had firmly refused the casket she had picked out for him. Apparently, he didn't share Mom's taste in final resting vessels...not manly enough. "That thing's too dern sissified...you got any pine boxes back there?"
He's home now, and had a wonderful meal of tamales, refried beans, and buttermilk. "Hey, I didn't plan the meal...that's what he wanted." says Mom.
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Have a fabulous weekend, folks. And don't be afraid to follow your dream. It could be a silly, frivolous thing (singing karaoke), or something monumental (climbing Mt. McKinley in Alaska, North America's tallest mountain peak). But have courage, and do the things that call to you. Make your Bucket List now, and get to work. Life can be unbearably short, you know.
PS I know someone who's headed to Alaska next year...guess what they're doing?
Tuesday, September 16, 2008
The Best Music Video...EVER!!!!
OK, this made me laugh so hard that I nearly shot Monster (the energy drink) out of my nose. Enjoy!!!
Lots of Stuff...
Wow, I was rereading some of my old posts, and noticed that I used to write pretty long, involved entries. I wondered why I haven't done that so much lately, and then I figured it was because things have gotten more and more busy in pretty much all areas of my life...not as much time left over for blogging. So today, I plan to comment on several topics. Just because I can.
I'm currently sitting at Jade Mountain, enjoying the newly-enabled internet access up here. It's so great to be able to check my email, make equipment orders, and do other stuff while I'm here instead of having to wait until I get home. Larry is teaching a Krav Maga class in the other room, and they've got the music thumping...I'm planning to go in and work out on my own in a bit.
Larry's finally teaching here, and I couldn't be happier. We've been friends forever, and I've always respected him as a martial artist, businessman, and as a person. We have big plans for this place, and I'm looking forward to seeing the results of our combined efforts. We'd like to eventually move to a bigger facility, with two training rooms, locker rooms, and a nicer lobby. It'll be fantastic to have two classes going at the same time! And higher ceilings will be a huge relief.
On the home front, we've discovered that my Dad (in the hospital for pneumonia) also has a staph infection in his blood. They've adjusted his medication to compensate, and his prognosis is looking good. In an attempt to lift his spirits, Mom even managed to smuggle his dog, Ricco, in to see him. I'm not really sure how she pulled that off, but it doesn't surprise me in the least. That's just how she rolls.
Lately, I've been thinking of cataloging my Dad's funny stories somewhere. Although he's probably the toughest old coot I've ever met, I know that he won't be here forever, so I figure I should get to work on that kind of thing while he's still around to correct any mistakes I might make. (i.e. "No, it was a mullet that jumped up and hit me in the belly while I was waterskiing, not a perch.") He's got an awful lot of stories, and I know I haven't nearly heard them all, but I think it's time for that project to get going. I may devote a separate blog to that project...I'll keep you posted.
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I was mightily saddened to hear that one of our instructors has had his home mightily damaged during Hurricane Ike. Mr. Shaun Lawler apparently had his ceilings collapse during the storm due to water damage. I'm pretty sure that means that his roof didn't make it. We're all waiting to know what we can do to help, and I'm really glad to find that many of our students are ready and willing to pitch in. Hopefully, we can help him and his family recover from this crisis.
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Getting ready to head to Waxahachie next weekend for an Eddie Bravo jiu jitsu seminar...I've met Eddie only once, and really enjoyed his techniques and teaching style. Several of us are going, and it should be a ton of fun.
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Well, it's time for me to head in and start my training for the day. It's going to be ugly, I'm pretty sure. Wish me luck!
I'm currently sitting at Jade Mountain, enjoying the newly-enabled internet access up here. It's so great to be able to check my email, make equipment orders, and do other stuff while I'm here instead of having to wait until I get home. Larry is teaching a Krav Maga class in the other room, and they've got the music thumping...I'm planning to go in and work out on my own in a bit.
Larry's finally teaching here, and I couldn't be happier. We've been friends forever, and I've always respected him as a martial artist, businessman, and as a person. We have big plans for this place, and I'm looking forward to seeing the results of our combined efforts. We'd like to eventually move to a bigger facility, with two training rooms, locker rooms, and a nicer lobby. It'll be fantastic to have two classes going at the same time! And higher ceilings will be a huge relief.
On the home front, we've discovered that my Dad (in the hospital for pneumonia) also has a staph infection in his blood. They've adjusted his medication to compensate, and his prognosis is looking good. In an attempt to lift his spirits, Mom even managed to smuggle his dog, Ricco, in to see him. I'm not really sure how she pulled that off, but it doesn't surprise me in the least. That's just how she rolls.
Lately, I've been thinking of cataloging my Dad's funny stories somewhere. Although he's probably the toughest old coot I've ever met, I know that he won't be here forever, so I figure I should get to work on that kind of thing while he's still around to correct any mistakes I might make. (i.e. "No, it was a mullet that jumped up and hit me in the belly while I was waterskiing, not a perch.") He's got an awful lot of stories, and I know I haven't nearly heard them all, but I think it's time for that project to get going. I may devote a separate blog to that project...I'll keep you posted.
--------------------------------
I was mightily saddened to hear that one of our instructors has had his home mightily damaged during Hurricane Ike. Mr. Shaun Lawler apparently had his ceilings collapse during the storm due to water damage. I'm pretty sure that means that his roof didn't make it. We're all waiting to know what we can do to help, and I'm really glad to find that many of our students are ready and willing to pitch in. Hopefully, we can help him and his family recover from this crisis.
--------------------------------
Getting ready to head to Waxahachie next weekend for an Eddie Bravo jiu jitsu seminar...I've met Eddie only once, and really enjoyed his techniques and teaching style. Several of us are going, and it should be a ton of fun.
--------------------------------
Well, it's time for me to head in and start my training for the day. It's going to be ugly, I'm pretty sure. Wish me luck!
Sunday, September 14, 2008
Yard Cleanup, my Dad, etc.
We waited until today to get started on the yard cleanup, thinking it would be drier. Wrong! It rained like crazy last night!! There were a few parts of Katy that were flooded, but nothing too bad. So after letting it dry up a bit, we donned gloves, workboots, and hats, and got to work.
I hope you enjoyed Connor's dance...he's a natural!
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We found out last night that my Dad's got pneumonia in one lung, so he's been admitted to Elkhart General Hospital. He's in room 2110, and should be there for a week or less, in case anyone wants to call. He's been pretty weak for the last several days or so, and we're glad to at least find out what's been causing the trouble. Antibiotics are hopefully kicking that crap out of his lung so that he can get back to being cantankerous as ever.
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Parts of Houston are still without power, and flooded. Galveston (as you might imagine) is an absolute wreck. Our hearts go out to those who have suffered during this storm...and I'm grateful that we've escaped unscathed.
I hope you enjoyed Connor's dance...he's a natural!
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We found out last night that my Dad's got pneumonia in one lung, so he's been admitted to Elkhart General Hospital. He's in room 2110, and should be there for a week or less, in case anyone wants to call. He's been pretty weak for the last several days or so, and we're glad to at least find out what's been causing the trouble. Antibiotics are hopefully kicking that crap out of his lung so that he can get back to being cantankerous as ever.
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Parts of Houston are still without power, and flooded. Galveston (as you might imagine) is an absolute wreck. Our hearts go out to those who have suffered during this storm...and I'm grateful that we've escaped unscathed.
Saturday, September 13, 2008
Ike Update, 7:15pm
I was not surprised to see that there had been quite a bit of wind damage done to the sign out front. For once, I'm glad I didn't invest in a new sign a couple of months ago! That would have been a waste of about $2000.00. I really feel for the folks who own the store downstairs...their sign was way bigger than ours would have been!
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