I interrupt all the so-so-serious posts of the last few days, lighten up and bring this funny message from George Carlin on AGING:
Do you realize that the only time in our lives when we like to get old is when we're kids? If you're less than 10 years old, you're so excited about aging that you think in fractions.
"How old are you?" "I'm four and a half!" You're never thirty-six and a half. You're four and a half, going on five! That's the key
You get into your teens, now they can't hold you back. You jump to the next number, or even a few ahead.
"How old are you?" "I'm gonna be 16!" You could be 13, but hey, you're gonna be 16! And then the greatest day of your life . . you become 21. Even the words sound like a ceremony . YOU BECOME 21. YESSSS!!!
But then you turn 30. Oooohh, what happened there? Makes you sound like bad milk! He TURNED; we had to throw him out. There's no fun now, you're Just a sour-dumpling. What's wrong? What's changed?
You BECOME 21, you TURN 30, then you're PUSHING 40. Whoa! Put on the brakes, it's all slipping away. Before you know it, you REACH 50 and your dreams are gone.
But wait!!! You MAKE it to 60. You didn't think you would!
So you BECOME 21, TURN 30, PUSH 40, REACH 50 and MAKE it to 60.
You've built up so much speed that you HIT 70! After that it's a day-by-day thing; you HIT Wednesday!
You get into your 80's and every day is a complete cycle; you HIT lunch; you TURN 4:30; you REACH bedtime. And it doesn't end there. Into the 90s, you start going backwards; "I Was JUST 92."
Then a strange thing happens. If you make it over 100, you become a little kid again. "I'm 100 and a half!"
May you all make it to a healthy 100 and a half!!
:-)
My Novels
Thursday, March 29, 2007
Tuesday, March 27, 2007
"Surviving" terminal cancer
What is up with all the public people lately who have decided they will whip terminal cancer? D-E-N-I-A-L, not just a name of a river in Egypt. Elizabeth Edwards, mets to the bone from breast cancer; Tony Snow, Prez Press Secretary, colon cancer spread to his liver. I think most Americans are totally deluded; the pharmaceutical companies and oncology specialists have told us so often (via TV/media ads) that NOTHING is unbeatable, that we'll live, perhaps, forever...that when REALITY (impending death) rears its ugly head, acceptance is out of the question. We MUST soldier on, suffer as much as possible, bring untold grief and sorrow to our loved ones who must "witness" our useless suffering. Is it a mad, mad world, or what?
IF I found out tomorrow that I had ANY KIND OF CANCER, I would have NO treatment. None, zip, nada! I would request I be allowed to put my life in order, share with my loved ones, and try to be kept comfortable as I was dying. Or maybe I'd opt for an early out, before the medical establishment got hold of me and would NOT let me die without suffering pointlessly? I just know I wouldn't stand up and shout, "Hey, I'll beat this cancer! Look at me, how brave, how optimistic, how hopeful I am!" I think that is doing a grave injustice to all those who are on their death-beds, still in denial.
I remember Michael Landon making his last appearance long ago on the Johnny Carson show. It was obvious the man was in pain, but as he tried to smile bravely (more of a grimace really), he declared he would whip the fatal pancreatic cancer eating away inside him. About two weeks later, he was dead.
I know when DH was diagnosed with acute leukemia (in advanced stage), and I managed to get the oncologist alone outside the ICU, he was NOT optimistic. I mentioned a bone marrow transplant, and he just shook his head, said that DH was past 55 and not a candidate. And even if he was younger, he had a serious heart condition. In other words, it was fairly obvious the doctor was being HONEST with me, if not DH. And what brought that truth home to me was when this oncologist put his hand on my shoulder, and just kept shaking his head. It all happened so quickly, I'm not sure DH knew he was dying...but I DID. I thought maybe he'd live a few weeks, no more. People told me to have hope, and I just thought they were crazy. Sure enough, he died within a week of being diagnosed, (sooner than even I expected) after his first chemo. He would have died sooner, had I not taken him to the ER, and sometimes when I think back about his last weeks, I believe he KNEW he had some form of cancer (which was genetic in both sides of his family) and was trying to die at home. He often told me he'd kill himself before he'd suffer the way his dad and sister did when they went through terminal cancer treatment and then, of course, died.
In the book, "How We Die" by Sherwin Nuland, a physician, this excerpt explains what doctors understand and experience with cancer patients:
No one who has treated cancer patients will ever discount the power of the subconscious mechanism we call denial, which is both friend and enemy of a person seriously ill. Denial protects while it hinders, and softens for a moment what it eventually makes more difficult. As much as I applaud Elisabeth Kubler-Ross's attempt to categorize a sequence of responses to the diagnosis of mortal illness, every experienced clinician knows that some patients, never, at least overtly, progress beyond denial; many other retain large elements of it right to the end, in spite of every effort that might be made by a physician to clarify each issue as it arises. Explanations of the forecefulness of deninal's influence are themselves often denied.
Denial is one of two factors that immeasurably complicate our best intentions, when as physicians or the beloved of a dying person, we seek to enlist him as a full participant in choices that must be made in the days remaining. Few dying people with a clear understanding of the inevitability of their disease process are willing to suffer through heroic and debilitating attempts to fight off an end that seems close. It is in the "clear understanding of their disease process," however, that reason and logic sometimes founder, and denial is a major element that stands in the way. Denial is a significant factor, for example, in the surprising frequency with which dying people refuse to confront the nearness of circumstanes they anticipated when, while still healthy, they assigned advance directives prohibiting major resuscitative efforts. When the chips are down, almost no one wants his life to end, and one good way for the conscious mind to avoid it is for the unconscious mind to deny that it is about to happen.
The other hindrance to full participation is the refusal of many patients to exercise their right to independent thought and self-determination--in other words, their control. The psychoanalyst and legal scholar Jay Katz has used the term psychological autonomy to denote this right of independence. Many a patient worn down by the ravages of illness or overwhelmed by the immediacies of a dire situation will be unwilling or emotionally unable to use his autonomy. The need to be cared for and to be relieved of responsibilities is not easily dealt with under such circumstances, and it may lead to wrong decisions. But the problem may be lessened if both patient and caregivers reflect on it together. When this is done, a dying man will sometimes decide that he wants to participate more actively than he thought he could.
And one more important excerpt regarding false hope:
A promise we can keep and a hope we can give is the certainty that no man or woman will be left to die alone. Of the many ways to die alone, the most comfortless and solitary must surely take place when the knowledge of death's certainty is withheld. Here again, it is the "I couldn't take away his hope" attitude that is so often precisely how a particularly reassuring form of hope is never allowed to materialize. Unless we are aware that we are dying and so far as possible know the conditions of our death, we cannot share any sort of final consummation with those who love us. Without this consummation, no matter their presence at the hour of passing, we will remain unattended and isolated. For it is the promise of spiritual companionship near the end that gives us hope, much more than does the mere offsetting of the fear of being physically without anyone.
The dying themselves bear a responsibility not to be entrapped by a misguided attempt to spare those whose lives are intertwined with theirs. I have seen this form of aloneness, and even unwisely conspired in it, before I learned better.
And so, I conclude this entry with the thought/reflection that perhaps all this "false hope" by public figures is indeed, NOT a help, but a serious hindrance in allowing us all to learn ACCEPTANCE of that which we CANNOT change. Maybe they should think about THAT.
IF I found out tomorrow that I had ANY KIND OF CANCER, I would have NO treatment. None, zip, nada! I would request I be allowed to put my life in order, share with my loved ones, and try to be kept comfortable as I was dying. Or maybe I'd opt for an early out, before the medical establishment got hold of me and would NOT let me die without suffering pointlessly? I just know I wouldn't stand up and shout, "Hey, I'll beat this cancer! Look at me, how brave, how optimistic, how hopeful I am!" I think that is doing a grave injustice to all those who are on their death-beds, still in denial.
I remember Michael Landon making his last appearance long ago on the Johnny Carson show. It was obvious the man was in pain, but as he tried to smile bravely (more of a grimace really), he declared he would whip the fatal pancreatic cancer eating away inside him. About two weeks later, he was dead.
I know when DH was diagnosed with acute leukemia (in advanced stage), and I managed to get the oncologist alone outside the ICU, he was NOT optimistic. I mentioned a bone marrow transplant, and he just shook his head, said that DH was past 55 and not a candidate. And even if he was younger, he had a serious heart condition. In other words, it was fairly obvious the doctor was being HONEST with me, if not DH. And what brought that truth home to me was when this oncologist put his hand on my shoulder, and just kept shaking his head. It all happened so quickly, I'm not sure DH knew he was dying...but I DID. I thought maybe he'd live a few weeks, no more. People told me to have hope, and I just thought they were crazy. Sure enough, he died within a week of being diagnosed, (sooner than even I expected) after his first chemo. He would have died sooner, had I not taken him to the ER, and sometimes when I think back about his last weeks, I believe he KNEW he had some form of cancer (which was genetic in both sides of his family) and was trying to die at home. He often told me he'd kill himself before he'd suffer the way his dad and sister did when they went through terminal cancer treatment and then, of course, died.
In the book, "How We Die" by Sherwin Nuland, a physician, this excerpt explains what doctors understand and experience with cancer patients:
No one who has treated cancer patients will ever discount the power of the subconscious mechanism we call denial, which is both friend and enemy of a person seriously ill. Denial protects while it hinders, and softens for a moment what it eventually makes more difficult. As much as I applaud Elisabeth Kubler-Ross's attempt to categorize a sequence of responses to the diagnosis of mortal illness, every experienced clinician knows that some patients, never, at least overtly, progress beyond denial; many other retain large elements of it right to the end, in spite of every effort that might be made by a physician to clarify each issue as it arises. Explanations of the forecefulness of deninal's influence are themselves often denied.
Denial is one of two factors that immeasurably complicate our best intentions, when as physicians or the beloved of a dying person, we seek to enlist him as a full participant in choices that must be made in the days remaining. Few dying people with a clear understanding of the inevitability of their disease process are willing to suffer through heroic and debilitating attempts to fight off an end that seems close. It is in the "clear understanding of their disease process," however, that reason and logic sometimes founder, and denial is a major element that stands in the way. Denial is a significant factor, for example, in the surprising frequency with which dying people refuse to confront the nearness of circumstanes they anticipated when, while still healthy, they assigned advance directives prohibiting major resuscitative efforts. When the chips are down, almost no one wants his life to end, and one good way for the conscious mind to avoid it is for the unconscious mind to deny that it is about to happen.
The other hindrance to full participation is the refusal of many patients to exercise their right to independent thought and self-determination--in other words, their control. The psychoanalyst and legal scholar Jay Katz has used the term psychological autonomy to denote this right of independence. Many a patient worn down by the ravages of illness or overwhelmed by the immediacies of a dire situation will be unwilling or emotionally unable to use his autonomy. The need to be cared for and to be relieved of responsibilities is not easily dealt with under such circumstances, and it may lead to wrong decisions. But the problem may be lessened if both patient and caregivers reflect on it together. When this is done, a dying man will sometimes decide that he wants to participate more actively than he thought he could.
And one more important excerpt regarding false hope:
A promise we can keep and a hope we can give is the certainty that no man or woman will be left to die alone. Of the many ways to die alone, the most comfortless and solitary must surely take place when the knowledge of death's certainty is withheld. Here again, it is the "I couldn't take away his hope" attitude that is so often precisely how a particularly reassuring form of hope is never allowed to materialize. Unless we are aware that we are dying and so far as possible know the conditions of our death, we cannot share any sort of final consummation with those who love us. Without this consummation, no matter their presence at the hour of passing, we will remain unattended and isolated. For it is the promise of spiritual companionship near the end that gives us hope, much more than does the mere offsetting of the fear of being physically without anyone.
The dying themselves bear a responsibility not to be entrapped by a misguided attempt to spare those whose lives are intertwined with theirs. I have seen this form of aloneness, and even unwisely conspired in it, before I learned better.
And so, I conclude this entry with the thought/reflection that perhaps all this "false hope" by public figures is indeed, NOT a help, but a serious hindrance in allowing us all to learn ACCEPTANCE of that which we CANNOT change. Maybe they should think about THAT.
Saturday, March 24, 2007
Spring into summer...
Pretty much what we here in the South are experiencing. It has been in the high 70s, low 80s this entire week, almost humid at times. Very little rain, which the forecasters say means we're already in a drought. About the only good aspect of no rain is that I won't have to get my yard mown often! On the other hand, the abundant pollen hangs in the air, triggering more problems with my allergies. Ah, spring is here...and summer is hot on its heels.
I have biked every other day this week, trying not to overdo. My knees have improved greatly, as long as I stay away from walking on concrete alot -- and wear cushioned shoes. Perhaps the warmer weather is helping, if this is the beginning of arthritis? And I have curtailed my calorie intake due to lack of daily aerobic exercise, and have dropped back to 105 lbs. I'd gotten to 108, and was NOT happy about that! As one famous actress said: "Hunger hurts but starvation works."
The pups are doing great. I do take them to the park occasionally for long walks in the wooded area, and they love it. Oscar will stand at the window, watching all the flashing scenery go by...but Rambo lies quietly on the seat. Rambo travels well, and could probably be taken anywhere. Oscar gets anxious, wants OUT, and whines sometimes. I have a large carrier that fits in the backseat well, should I need to take them on a longer drive -- like when I took them to the groomer.
My cats are well too. However, I do wonder if what happened to Kitten might have been the result of the rat poison found in so many premimum brand-name cat foods? The vet had sold me some of the Science diet in cans when I first took Kitten in, and said it would be good for her to eat the wet food. She got worse and worse, and then I lost her. She was soooo weak, she could barely stand or walk only a few steps, then collapse. I've checked all my other cat/dog food, and had none of the recalled items. But that does worry me about Kitten, and is very sad.
The thing is: First we had a lot of E-coli outbreaks in human foods, then tainted peanut butter recalls, lots of odds and ends like this. NOW the pet food. Color me paranoid, but I can't help wonder if something sinister is afoot -- like some nutcase doing testing to see what will do the most damage before it's noticed in the food chain/supply! Scary. Just never know what you're getting any more -- either at the grocery store or in a restaurant.
Otherwise, I went to the library today, got a load of good books and three DVD movies (which the library rents). Had to buy a few groceries, run some errands. Was busy most of the day. Next week one day I plan to take Oscar out to see my mother at my sister's house. She'll enjoy seeing him. Mother seems to be stable, and is doing well, considering her terrible health condition.
This whole neighborhood has been abuzz with lawnmowers going all week -- and I got my yard mowed for the first time. The guy next-door did a great job, weed-eating and trimming everything for a very neat look. I have planted ten small Leland Cyress cedars in the backyard, and it's a real pain to get around those...but he did a good job.
Guess that's it for now. I'll end with the lyrics of an old ballad that seems somehow appropriate to my acceptance of being a widow now:
"I wish I were a single girl again"
When I was a single girl, I went dressed very fine,
Now I am married and have a drunken man to mind.
Oh, I wish I were a single girl again.
When I was a single girl I done as I pleased;
Now I am a married girl with a drunken man to please.
Oh, I wish I were a single girl again.
He goes down to town and stays all day
Drinking and gambling and wasting time away.
Oh, I wish I were a single girl again.
And when he comes home it's a curse and damn,
Wishing I were dead and he had another dram.
Oh, I wish I were a single girl again.
Spring to go to, and cows to milk and feed,
And the four little children a-crying after me.
Oh, I wish I were a single girl again.
Collected by Harvey H. Fuson
"Ballads of the Kentucky Highlands"
London, 1931, p 118
Yep, there's a worse fate than being single and a widow. Marrying a no-good man -- which I sure will never do! (sigh)
I have biked every other day this week, trying not to overdo. My knees have improved greatly, as long as I stay away from walking on concrete alot -- and wear cushioned shoes. Perhaps the warmer weather is helping, if this is the beginning of arthritis? And I have curtailed my calorie intake due to lack of daily aerobic exercise, and have dropped back to 105 lbs. I'd gotten to 108, and was NOT happy about that! As one famous actress said: "Hunger hurts but starvation works."
The pups are doing great. I do take them to the park occasionally for long walks in the wooded area, and they love it. Oscar will stand at the window, watching all the flashing scenery go by...but Rambo lies quietly on the seat. Rambo travels well, and could probably be taken anywhere. Oscar gets anxious, wants OUT, and whines sometimes. I have a large carrier that fits in the backseat well, should I need to take them on a longer drive -- like when I took them to the groomer.
My cats are well too. However, I do wonder if what happened to Kitten might have been the result of the rat poison found in so many premimum brand-name cat foods? The vet had sold me some of the Science diet in cans when I first took Kitten in, and said it would be good for her to eat the wet food. She got worse and worse, and then I lost her. She was soooo weak, she could barely stand or walk only a few steps, then collapse. I've checked all my other cat/dog food, and had none of the recalled items. But that does worry me about Kitten, and is very sad.
The thing is: First we had a lot of E-coli outbreaks in human foods, then tainted peanut butter recalls, lots of odds and ends like this. NOW the pet food. Color me paranoid, but I can't help wonder if something sinister is afoot -- like some nutcase doing testing to see what will do the most damage before it's noticed in the food chain/supply! Scary. Just never know what you're getting any more -- either at the grocery store or in a restaurant.
Otherwise, I went to the library today, got a load of good books and three DVD movies (which the library rents). Had to buy a few groceries, run some errands. Was busy most of the day. Next week one day I plan to take Oscar out to see my mother at my sister's house. She'll enjoy seeing him. Mother seems to be stable, and is doing well, considering her terrible health condition.
This whole neighborhood has been abuzz with lawnmowers going all week -- and I got my yard mowed for the first time. The guy next-door did a great job, weed-eating and trimming everything for a very neat look. I have planted ten small Leland Cyress cedars in the backyard, and it's a real pain to get around those...but he did a good job.
Guess that's it for now. I'll end with the lyrics of an old ballad that seems somehow appropriate to my acceptance of being a widow now:
"I wish I were a single girl again"
When I was a single girl, I went dressed very fine,
Now I am married and have a drunken man to mind.
Oh, I wish I were a single girl again.
When I was a single girl I done as I pleased;
Now I am a married girl with a drunken man to please.
Oh, I wish I were a single girl again.
He goes down to town and stays all day
Drinking and gambling and wasting time away.
Oh, I wish I were a single girl again.
And when he comes home it's a curse and damn,
Wishing I were dead and he had another dram.
Oh, I wish I were a single girl again.
Spring to go to, and cows to milk and feed,
And the four little children a-crying after me.
Oh, I wish I were a single girl again.
Collected by Harvey H. Fuson
"Ballads of the Kentucky Highlands"
London, 1931, p 118
Yep, there's a worse fate than being single and a widow. Marrying a no-good man -- which I sure will never do! (sigh)
Sunday, March 18, 2007
Premonition, Movie Review
Yesterday I went to see the movie, Premonition with Sandra Bullock. All the previews had captured my interest; anyone who has lost their husband/wife could not help being fascinated by the premise: If you could go back in time, do something/anything different, could you have prevented the death of your loved one?
This is a good movie for widows/widowers -- yet a word of caution. It is confusing at the beginning, and you wonder if you can figure out what the heck is happening. This could have been filmed in a better way, and in a novel, it would have been much easier to understand what the protagonist was thinking/feeling. IF you are recent widow/widower (less than a year) you might want to skip this movie until more time has passed. An older lady (obviously a widow) sitting behind me began crying almost from the start, and cried all through the movie. I didn't cry, but near the end of the movie, I began to feel very...stressed. Almost like I was reliving the trauma of my own husband's death.
All in all, a fairly good movie. Most people who haven't lost a spouse wouldn't get quite the satisfaction of the final answering of something most widows/widowers suffer with the rest of their lives. And since I don't want to give away the ending, I'll leave it at that.
I will say that one of the most important things my doctor ever told me, after DH died, and I was lamenting about not "being there when he died," was when she said, with a shudder, "Be glad you were not there. Those images would never leave your mind, ever." The movie clarifies this in an intense way for widows/widowers that could never be expressed in words.
Otherwise, life here goes on. I've decided to let my next-door neighbor mow my lawn this summer. He mows yards part-time, and can just mow mine when he mows theirs, and his charge is reasonable.
I've also been looking around for a new sofa/loveseat, but can't decide what kind yet. I let my nearly new set go, sold it, and only have an older sofa now, and wicker set. I'll probably get rid of the older sofa/wicker set on Freecyle. If you haven't checked into a Freecycle online group in your area, it's a great idea. You just post what you want to give away, and someone nearly always will come pick it up. I gave away all the many indoor plants left from DH's funeral -- since I had no place inside to keep them -- on Freecycle.
I'm still reading, "How We Die," and have a very long passage I want to post, as soon as I get a chance to type it out. I'll end with this quote about whether there is "intelligent life" in the cosmos by a famous astronomer:
"It’s sort of like your attitude toward mollusks,” he said. “Are you hostile to them? Are you in favor of them? Do you try and support their work? Maybe intelligent life is so common that, aside from people on Phi-2 Orionis making a catalog of all the intelligent critters around, it’s of little consequence.”--Seth Shostak, on search for SETI
This is a good movie for widows/widowers -- yet a word of caution. It is confusing at the beginning, and you wonder if you can figure out what the heck is happening. This could have been filmed in a better way, and in a novel, it would have been much easier to understand what the protagonist was thinking/feeling. IF you are recent widow/widower (less than a year) you might want to skip this movie until more time has passed. An older lady (obviously a widow) sitting behind me began crying almost from the start, and cried all through the movie. I didn't cry, but near the end of the movie, I began to feel very...stressed. Almost like I was reliving the trauma of my own husband's death.
All in all, a fairly good movie. Most people who haven't lost a spouse wouldn't get quite the satisfaction of the final answering of something most widows/widowers suffer with the rest of their lives. And since I don't want to give away the ending, I'll leave it at that.
I will say that one of the most important things my doctor ever told me, after DH died, and I was lamenting about not "being there when he died," was when she said, with a shudder, "Be glad you were not there. Those images would never leave your mind, ever." The movie clarifies this in an intense way for widows/widowers that could never be expressed in words.
Otherwise, life here goes on. I've decided to let my next-door neighbor mow my lawn this summer. He mows yards part-time, and can just mow mine when he mows theirs, and his charge is reasonable.
I've also been looking around for a new sofa/loveseat, but can't decide what kind yet. I let my nearly new set go, sold it, and only have an older sofa now, and wicker set. I'll probably get rid of the older sofa/wicker set on Freecyle. If you haven't checked into a Freecycle online group in your area, it's a great idea. You just post what you want to give away, and someone nearly always will come pick it up. I gave away all the many indoor plants left from DH's funeral -- since I had no place inside to keep them -- on Freecycle.
I'm still reading, "How We Die," and have a very long passage I want to post, as soon as I get a chance to type it out. I'll end with this quote about whether there is "intelligent life" in the cosmos by a famous astronomer:
"It’s sort of like your attitude toward mollusks,” he said. “Are you hostile to them? Are you in favor of them? Do you try and support their work? Maybe intelligent life is so common that, aside from people on Phi-2 Orionis making a catalog of all the intelligent critters around, it’s of little consequence.”--Seth Shostak, on search for SETI
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