This post will say 1 AM on Saturday, but it will be up much earlier. I have a respite planned for the evening. A clutch of girls from my high school graduating class are going out on the town tonight.
After our 35th year reunion we stuck together and started doing things together…not just the girls but about 15-20 of the classmates.
Tonight one of the guys who is a wealthy (Like that Buddy?) developer is loaning us a condo downtown that he has. About 10 of us girls will go down, Buddy is buying us dinner and we will spend the rest of the night partying. Hopefully all night. In the morning we have breakfast and a tour of the Flea Market planned.
I need this so badly. I’ve been a basket case all day.
For once I was actually sleeping late. The phone rang. It was Yvonne, on her way. OH NO! I haven’t prepared. I’ve got to gather up all the clean bed clothes and towels get the hot water going in the coffee pot to pump up the heat for the wash water.
I need to get Daddy his meds and get myself dressed…Damn. It’s the phone again. It always rings when you are in crisis mode. Yvonne arrived and we began to tend to Daddy. Well she does, I watch and offer help but she really does very well with out my interference. Still I wasn’t ready, so I’m getting the razor, the shampoo, and clean pillow cases.
Since we started putting the satin pull sheet under him, and a satin PJ top on him, his back is getting much better. So we now have a satin pillow case and a satin top sheet to lie next to his skin. Very Slippery.
During the cleaning and rolling, the phone rang at least 5 times. I took it and stuck it to my belt loop…that will shut it up…and it did for a few minutes until Nurse Goodbody called and said she was near by.
Within 5 minutes she was here. And the phone is still ringing off the hook. I’m gonna smash the damn thing one of these days. It can go for days and nothing. THE VERY MINUTE you are too busy….there it goes. The morning continued to be a mad house.
Earlier I had emailed every one I could think of that worked at Vanderbilt asking for leads on whom to contact in the Pathology Department to get the Doctor lined up and get the contact info to Harvard, just pure Project Coordination. Glad I do it for a living. I’d hate to think that someone without Coordination experience was set on this tour without help. But there is always help.
Sure enough I got several phone numbers and a couple of names that might know someone. Good friends, always there for you.
But it was later, after getting all those leads when I was emailing Betsy, my financial guru/friend and told her of my woes. Bless her heart, she replied, “Email Ann. Ann knows a lot of people at Vanderbilt.” Betsy had introduced me to Ann years ago. We have had many enjoyable encounters so this was not like going to a stranger.
The next thing I knew, I was getting Cc emails from Ann and her friend at Vanderbilt Pathology. Is that sweet or what? Now that I had my contact, I re sent the info on Daddy so she would know who what when where…
At 11:45 Yvonne and Nurse Goodbody had gone, and there was some peace. What’s this? Furry little things nipping on my toes! OH NO, I forgot to walk Tweak and Lila, poor things they must be about to burst! So I took them out in the rain for a long walk. We went down by the pond and ruffled up a few frogs, came up back by the front window where I can see Daddy sleeping away and the damn phone rings again.
Come on Puppies! Let’s go.... Run!
It was a very nice lady from the Harvard Brain Tissue Resource Center.
She sounded so pleasant and nice, even with her New England accent. Not the harsh (Twisting mouth) Joor-see’ accent.
She had been on the phone with Ann’s friend at Vanderbilt. The doctor had been selected and on-call backups, because of the uncertainly of the timing. The paper work had transferred between the two Universities, and everything, I mean everything had been taken care of. BLESS THEM. She explained to me the procedure, explained who I was to call in what order when Daddy dies. Then they would take it from there. I call Hospice first. Then call Harvard. Harvard will call Vandy to get the doctors in and the OR ready to receive Daddy’s body. They will harvest and ship Daddy’s brain to Massachusetts.
It was wearing on me. All of the death and dying emotions were just crashing down. All this was such a relief. The only other thing I had to do was select a funeral home for cremation that would also transport the body. The nice lady at Harvard sent me a list of local crematoriums and funeral homes. How very nice.
I called a large one nearby with a good reputation and talked to the Owner/manager (not sure) anyway, he told me to start saving ice in gallon freezer bags. Should Daddy pass away in the middle of the night, we needed to start icing him immediately, then start calling. He made me feel like he knew what had to be done. He could not remove the body until Hospice had finished their paper work. It might take an hour in the middle of the night to get them here, much less finished. We will ice him down, so by the time everything is done they can transport him to Vanderbilt without any problem. I only want to be sure the brain does not deteriorate any more than absolutely necessary. The funeral home will not charge us to take Daddy to Vanderbilt or return him for the cremation.
The funeral home director then asked if Daddy was a Veteran. I could not hold back the tears any longer. The VA will provide a head stone and a flag, and a spot in the National Cemetery. I’m torn, whether to put him beside Momma’s ashes or put him in the Military Cemetery. The one here I think is the second largest one in the country. It is very nice.
I kinda think Momma would have wanted him at the National Cemetery. With Daddy’s blood line dying out, he will be forgotten at the private grave yard where Momma is. She might however haunt me for putting her over there with the rest of his family…but at the National Cemetery, as long as rain falls and grass grows, he will be remembered.
3 comments:
Stella said...
And he will be remembered through your courage and bravery. The soldier's kid who cared enough write.
old friend said...
wish I could convey the emotions your words painted as I read them, you Pauline are quite the wordsmith. So happy you had the girlie thing to take your mind off Daddy for just a while! Momma would agree and be so very proud of you!
pearose said...
I'm glad he's going to the Veteran's place of honor. Our World War II heroes are leaving us and they're the ones that fought the Big One - with weapons that were the straight forward kind and without computers to do the aiming. A good choice and your Mom would be proud.