Archives for the month of: February, 2024

I woke in the usual way, as if this morning is like any other. I went through my routine. Made my way to the car. Drove into the city. All quite ordinary. Traffic was fine. I’m sipping my coffee now, and watching the darkness before dawn slowly evolving through the dim twilight to the blue-gray of daybreak. It’s a rainy morning. Instead of blue skies beyond these windows, the day slowly becomes more gray, less dim.

I drink my coffee, acutely aware that there is one less reader of these words in the world, this morning. I’m saddened by that, less because the words aren’t read, than because of the loss, itself. My dear friend – one of my dearest, deepest, and longest-standing friendships of this mortal life – let go of this mortal existence with all its pain and heartbreak, joys and wonders, yesterday afternoon. I got the call yesterday, just as I was arriving home, betwixt taking the off-ramp into the small town I live in, and stopping by the store for things that seemed necessary at the time.

I took time for tears, and to alert my Traveling Partner, before I went into the store. I sat in my car weeping without restraint or concern about being seen, until I could catch my breath. My Traveling Partner offered me comfort in messages, and held me when I arrived home. My dear friend died surrounded by loving family I was told, and that gives me some comfort. (I guess she was ready – she didn’t wait long once the decisions were made, and she definitely knew where things stood and seemed okay with it, when we spoke over the the course of my visit.) Still… it’s hard to “let go”, and I cling to the recollections of past conversations and shared moments, as humans tend to do. For a moment, tears well up in my eyes again, and I look out into the sky above the city and find myself peculiarly grateful for this sullen gray morning which offers no delightful sunrise view that I might regret being unable to share with her, now. Fitting. “Nothing to see here. Move along, folks.”

…Slow tears slide down my face, ignored…

I sit quietly, thinking my solitary thoughts, sipping my coffee, and feeling the tears fall. Grief passes, I know. “The way out is through.” There’s no point trying to pretend I am made of a block of stone; this is a very human experience. I breathe. Exhale. Relax. I feel calm, just a bit sorrowful, and considering what my dear friend was to me for all these years, that seems only reasonable. I think about my Granny. I still shed occasional tears over her loss, too. My mother? Yes, her, too. Honest tears. These connections are painful to sever. The feeling of loss is genuine. I don’t bother to try to escape the emotions.

The sky continues to lighten. A new day. A new beginning. A strange new world with one less cherished friend in it. The streets don’t look any different, slick with rain, as early morning traffic slowly fills the choicest parking spaces. I take a breath and sigh out loud, sip my coffee, and prepare to begin again.

I’m sipping my iced coffee and thinking about mortality. Not really a surprise after visiting a dear friend who is facing hers. Thing is, there are options and “ways to go”, and I’m not surprised by my dear friend’s choices, and I’m so fucking grateful (and relieved) that she’s gotten to make those choices with her own voice and mind and will, and that her family loves her enough to respect those choices. It’s a difficult time. Saying goodbye was less trying than simply somewhat sorrowful (and also unexpectedly joyful and deeply connected), and in part that was because my dear friend is cared for by people who love her, who have also managed to keep their senses of humor intact, and are so skilled at balancing respect for this dear woman who has been so much to us all, while also fending off the medical bureaucracy and bullshit (yeah, there’s a surprising amount of that) to ensure she is cared for and comfortable while the clock ticks. I’m glad I went to visit.

The private anecdotes illuminate the loving good-nature of my dear friend, and her continued sense of humor and awareness of her circumstances. I won’t be sharing those, they feel too private – but g’damn do I love this woman, and admire her strength and practicality. I hope when it is my turn, I have some measure of her strength, wisdom, and will. She’s managed to make things so much easier on her family simply by having known – and communicated – what she wants for end-of-life care for a long time. Fuck it is going to be a lonelier world without her in it!

…What I’m saying is, think about what you will want when “that time” comes, and then actually say words about it to those that you love. Don’t run from it. We are mortal creatures, and at least as of 2023, there’s no dodging that.

I arrived home last night after as close to an effortless drive back as could have been achieved. Almost no traffic, things moving along smoothly at slow points through small towns, pretty good weather… even the rain that began to fall midway through the drive stayed quite well-behaved and wasn’t much of an impediment to safe driving. I got home more than an hour earlier than expected, but that was mostly due to taking shorter/fewer breaks. I took plenty of those, and more frequently, with the result that I didn’t need so many or such long ones. Funny how that worked out. There’s a self-care lesson there. My Traveling Partner was pleased to have me home. I am happy to be back. Feels good. Comfortable. Familiar.

…The comfort and familiarity of home reminds me of the disappointing blandness of the hospital my dear friend is currently in. How the hell is anyone supposed to heal in that unengaging, unappealing environment?? I sip my coffee and think about that for some minutes…

The pre-dawn darkness became daylight… I barely noticed. There’s quite a lot to catch up on with work… time to begin again.

I’m packed, except for the laptop. The car is loaded, except for the laptop, and my handbag. Phone is charged. Charging brick is charged (I find it better for “topping off” the phone than the car’s USB port, and I can slip it in a pocket). I feel ready to hit the road, ready to head home. I’ll have a bite of breakfast and a cup of coffee in the hotel breakfast bar, and getting going shortly after, which should put the entire drive in daylight. If all goes to plan (though it rarely does), I should be home before 16:00, and get to enjoy dinner with my Traveling Partner, without hurrying or creating unnecessary stress for myself. 😀

…Funny, the trip down was sunny and mild. The days here were mostly also sunny and mild, with some brief rain showers and coastal fog yesterday. Today? The air is damp, it rained during the night, and the car is icy. The morning air is quite cold. I’ve used up the in-room coffee, and forgotten to ask for more. Definitely time to go home. lol

What a pleasant visit, in spite of the trying circumstances. No one wants to say final goodbyes to cherished friends, but if I’d had to script it, it may very well have gone something like this, and I feel so incredibly fortunate to have had the chance to enjoy my dear friend’s lucid companionship and humor once again. I got pretty lucky. My dear friend was often awake and aware, while I visited. We enjoyed lively conversation, some of it quite deep. I was thoroughly welcomed by her family, gathered to care for her, and make decisions. The only better outcome would likely involve modifications to how mortality works, and some kind of extension of our all too brief human lives, or perhaps some more robust mortal vessel than those we’ve got. Not this year, I guess.

So, I give the room a last look around to avoid forgetting anything. I’m definitely ready for coffee. I guess I’m also ready to begin again.

I’m sitting quietly in my hotel room. It’s well-past any sort of reasonable time (for me) to have a cup of coffee. So… I make a cup of tea. I sip it slowly, hoping it doesn’t cause a restless night, enjoying the warmth of it in my hands, anyway. I breathe, exhale, relax, and wonder how things are over at the hospital? It’s past visiting hours. I stayed with my dear friend for much of the day, after arriving shortly after visiting hours began. It was a good day for both of us, relative to where we each are in our life and circumstances. I took a break at one point to make room for the painful intimacy of important conversations about where and when and things of that sort. I’m not “decision-making family”, so excusing myself seemed the most appropriate way to proceed. Aside from that, we spent the day together, my dear friend and I, while family and her bestie came and went, and even as my dear friend napped, finally getting some restful sleep (she’d been complaining about the sleep deprivation practices that are not uncommon in hospitals and suffering from a lack of healthy deep sleep for some days). Eventually, family and my dear friend’s bestie returned from errands and things that could not be put off for later, and visiting hours began to wind down. I made my goodbye’s all around, and headed back to the hotel.

…I think about something my Traveling Partner said to me in a message earlier today, in response to my bitching about the bare bland beige hospital decor, “Hospitals treat diseases, not people.” I considered the small things I saw not being done (that surely could have created a more healing environment…) the lack of windows with views in patient rooms, the lack of art on the walls, the lack of anything at all to do while… waiting. People in hospitals do a lot of fucking waiting around. People – patients – in hospitals are often incredibly bored. That’s so unhealthy for human wellness, particularly when there is no way to alleviate it. Nothing to do. I remember it from being in the hospital, myself; the endless maddening boredom. Then there’s something hospitals could do without… the fucking endless beeping of various monitors and machinery. G’damn, it was bad. Ceaseless. Inescapable. Nerve-wracking. Through cat-nap after cat-nap, and wrecking every opportunity for deep sleep, I saw my dear friend’s brow furrow with irritation when yet another round of beeping commenced, often in some room several doors down the corridor. Oh sure, those alarms are intended to get attention, but the nurses are human, too, and eventually they tune out the beeping, especially the commonplace beeps that indicate something, but not something urgent. They can tune them out, over time, but how many patients can? The patients haven’t been forced to listen to it long enough to learn to ignore it. If it’s going to get ignored anyway, why the fuck is it being permitted to continue to destroy the rest that vulnerable ill or injured people need so very much?? I admit it – I just don’t get it. It’s fucking dumb, and it’s also rude. While I’m on about this shit, for fucks’ sake don’t let people’s minds just atrophy while they’re struggling with their health! Make a point to engage their minds, and give them a way to entertain themselves! Be patient enough to wait around for the answer to a question you’ve asked, yes even if that patient has trouble speaking or expressing themselves! Wouldn’t you want that? Oh, and also? Fucking let people sleep. I can’t stress enough how fucking annoying it is to finally fall asleep in spite of pain or discomfort to be wakened by a cheery loud voice seeking to take vital signs or worse – to ask if you’re sleeping. Hospitals are not helping with that shit. Good grief.

I’m cross on my dear friend’s behalf. I sip my tea, and think awhile. I breathe, exhale, relax, and then let that go. It’s evening now, and soon enough I’ll be getting packed to the trip home. My dear friend is in the care of family and friends who love her greatly. She is so very loved.

I sit quietly, listening to my tinnitus. My Traveling Partner and I exchange “stickers” back and forth in messages: kisses, hugs, hearts, fun little animated characters showing affection . It delights me, and I feel loved. I’m eager to be home, and back in his arms. Unexpectedly, I noticed how much pain I’m in. The weather turned rainy this morning, and my arthritis flared up. I’ve stay caught up on my Rx’s this entire detour from the routine, which is not always the case when my routine is broken. Health-wise, I’m feeling pretty good, generally, so the pain caught me a bit by surprise (though it isn’t truly surprising). I sit with that awareness for a moment thinking back over the day; did I take my pain meds? Those are not “on a schedule”, and keeping track is very important. I look in my pillbox. Huh. I find myself surprised to see that I hadn’t found it necessary to manage my pain earlier today, at all. I fix that, hoping I got to it early enough to avoid fucking with my sleep. It’s been a long day, filled with “emotional labor”. I’m tired, and it seems likely I’ll sleep just fine, particularly if I don’t let myself get spun up over “what if I don’t sleep?”. lol

I take a deep breath and let it out as a sigh. Actually? I’m already tired, it’s just too early to go to bed. I send more kisses to my Traveling Partner and pick up the book I’m reading… seems like a pleasant evening to read awhile, before calling it night. Tomorrow will be soon enough to begin again. 😀

I’m waiting for in-room hotel coffee to finish burbling its way to being an actual cup of hopefully drinkable coffee. Oh, I know; it’ll likely be pretty crappy, but the hope exists as its own thing, and it’s worth cherishing for its own value. Hope is a good feeling. I like feeling it. Anyway, if you ask someone who doesn’t like coffee in the first place, they’ll tell you how bad it reliably is – all of it. lol. Perspective, too, is a thing that exists.

Yesterday was interesting – and precious. My dear friend woke from her unhealthy repose in the hospital, and we shared some laughs and some lucid conversation. It awoke hope in me, and put my drenching sorrow to rest, and it feels good to connect with a dear friend, even under such trying circumstances. I was also fortunate to get to visit with others dear to her, in one case gently renewing an old relationship that had fallen to circumstances, which was both unexpected and delightful. The friends who had gathered last summer, when I made my trip down the coastal highway in July, gathered again, too, and although the confines of a hotel room were not so merry as relaxing in my dear friend’s home, it almost felt like that party, once again. It was fun. It was also purposeful, as these gathered loved ones were gathering to care for my dear friend together and in turns. I am, in a sense, simply passing through their experience of saying goodbye, to have my own. All for her, this quite wonderful and very dear friend.

I upended my plans, after talking to my Traveling Partner; one more day, another chance to visit, and also a means of taking some pressure off myself to hit the road again almost immediately. It was frankly surprisingly hard on this fragile vessel to make the drive down so directly, all in one shot, in ways it definitely would not have been 3 decades ago. I sit with that thought awhile, and sip my coffee. (Is my coffee as terrible as it seemed likely to be? You don’t know that unless I tell you. Something like the pain of strangers; it probably exists, but you aren’t likely to know unless the information is explicitly shared with you. I don’t know why that feels share worthy – it’s a dark bit of perspective.)(Yes, it’s awful. lol)(The coffee. The coffee is awful.)

I woke at my usual time, this morning, after a pretty good night’s sleep. That bodes well for the trip back tomorrow. I woke missing my Traveling Partner. Missing home. Missing a reliably good cup of coffee on a lazy weekend morning, and I am rather awkwardly aware that I’ve “missed the weekend” entirely. lol I breathe, exhale, and relax – it’s an unimportant detail of the sort that can spin up a heartbreaking amount of pointless stress, so I let that go. Ridiculous bullshit is not welcome this morning. It has proven to be helpful to be open to “success” even in times of sorrow, and I’m welcoming this dawn as I welcome any other; a new day, a new beginning, a new bunch of opportunities and chances. Place your bets, roll the dice – but don’t get attached to the outcome, and don’t bet what you can’t afford to lose. Put that way, this “game” that is life looks so damned easy!! I know, it isn’t – it’s more complicated than a game, and the last hand is always a reminder that we are mortal creatures.

…Maybe this cup of coffee isn’t so bad after all? Perspective…

I’ve learned some other things visiting with my dear friend. Things about mortality. Things about nearing the end of a life. Things about dignity and comfort. Things about health and wellness. Things about… risk management. I’m glad I came down to visit my dear friend. Fucking hell I’m going to miss her, and this visit gives me much to reflect on, myself, for my own purposes, too. I chuckle to myself to realize that even now, under these circumstances, she continues to teach me things I need to know in that gentle and unassuming way she always has. I sip my coffee contentedly. It’s still quite early. I’ve got time to get a walk in, and maybe do some yoga before breakfast. Certainly, it’s time to begin again.

… The clock is ticking. What will you do with the time that is left to you?