Thank You Vietnam Vets

Part 3 of ...... Will this story ever end?

Part two here.

What I am about to say will not make sense to a lot of people.  

I had planned to be there with my brothers as Bill was nearing the end. I wanted to be there. I know first hand how incredibly hard it is to care for someone during their last days. Yet, it is also incredibly awesome, in the true meaning of awe. 

When my dad passed away from liver cancer in 1992, all four of us kids and my mother stood next to the hospital bed that sat in the middle of the their living room and held him as he slipped the surly bonds of this earth. It was horrible and yet, it was amazing. 

I realize that this will be a hard concept for anyone who has not held the hand of a loved one while they were dying. 

Is there any greater gift you can give someone than giving them comfort while they are dying?  I'll admit I have been blessed with an amazing family, however that connection of providing each other comfort in the worst of times has forged a bond that will never be broken. 

So, I wanted to be there. I knew that although my brothers knew what they were about to face, two people would not be enough assistance to get through the last stretch. When I had Bill sign the living will we had a very frank discussion regarding the end of his life. He worried that someone would call 911 and/or attempt to keep him alive. He also talked about getting someone to assist him in hurrying it along. I explained that if he expected one of us to assist in his suicide, that would likely be a line we could not cross.  However if he was in the thralls of dying, it was different. "You forget, we've been through this before".  We would let him die in peace. And in love. 

So I had planned on being there. 

As March was moving into its third week last year, I however was dealing with things at home. Some of you might remember that exactly on this day last year, Bob was facing a major surgery to extract a tumor on his spine. The man who never is sick or injured was dealing with spending his first days in a hospital since he was born. He was nervous. And there were people in his family making it worse by causing unnecessary drama.  

And it was during that time that Bill's body was surrendering to that damned disease we call cancer. 

I, like Bill's oldest brother, had important health isssues to deal with at home.  

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Early morning on March 22, 2013, we arrived at the hospital to await Bob's surgery. The docs had indicated it would take 3 to 4 hours and he would be hospitized 4 to 5 days.   My brother Mark had intended to come to the hospital. But he had other priorities.  He had become Bill's main caregiver as Bill's final hours were coming to pass. 

Both of us felt tugged in two directions. Yet we both knew where we needed to be. 

Thankfully two of my nieces (my other brother's girls) stepped in. That afternoon Bill was in incredible pain and ended up doubled over laying on the floor of his bedroom. Mark and one of my nieces laid down beside him for hours.   He wouldn't get in bed and he did not want to be moved. So the three of them laid in the floor.  

When hospice arrived, they were able to get him back in bed and tell them the end was coming very soon. 

I talked with Mark late that night as Bob was resting in his hospital bed and I was sitting up on my makeshift chairbed where we would stay for the next five days. I hated that I was unable to be there for them, but of course everyone understood I was where I needed to be and the timing was what it was. 

As I cried and told my brother I loved him, I told him to call me when it was "time".  My brother's youngest daughter had gone home and her older sister had taken over the watch in the house. They had arranged a schedule to switch in a few hours. 

Around 1, I was awakened by my phone ringing. I scrambled out of the hospital room to not awaken Bob. 

Bill had passed. His struggle was finally over.  My niece had just turned over her shift to Mark. 

I told Mark I would call Bill's brother. The one sleeping at home because his sweet bride was undergoing chemo battling her own cancer.   Although his voice was slightly groggy, I could tell that he knew when he saw my name on the caller ID what the news would be. While I hated delivering the news, I felt it was the least I could do for my brothers since I had not been there to help. 

Unfortunately, the story doesn't stop there.   And now that it is now one year later makes it even harder to tell. 

Part Two of ?

See Part One here.

Of course everything was difficult. Finding a doc that will not only accept a new patient, but one that is dying is nearly impossible in our area. And oddly enough, you have to be referred to Hospice. You can't just pick up the phone, have your records transferred and get access to the service. 

Bill's family asked me to assist him with arranging his finances. In my view, that also required making sure COBRA was continued. The problem, as my brothers were also finding out, was that either the cancer was attacking Bill's mind or he was so overwhelmed with his past and current situation that it was difficult to determine exactly what he had done or not done. 

As the weeks moved on, he grew worse and worse. I had him make out a living will, a "dying" will and a POA for accessing his health care. I didn't want to get a POA for his finances. Although he had nothing and was deep in debt, he had a pension from his previous employer. He had insisted that he had sent the paperwork to his employer for both the COBRA and the pension, but I could not get him to produce copies. 

One frustrating evening I had gone to my brothers' to get some paperwork. Thankfully I was finally able to contact his employer. Also thankfully the HR director knew of Bill's situation and gave me information that helped in accessing the COBRA and the paperwork to get access to his pension.  When I asked my brothers where Bill's mail was, they said they had given it to him. I told them to stop giving him mail. He never knew where it was and was rather secretive about the paperwork even though he readily accepted my help.  When I asked for the pension paperwork, he gave me papers regarding his original diagnosis, some three years ago. 

As my brothers were dealing with trying to take care of this dying man physically, I was in contact quite a bit with his older brother, attempting to give them what financial advice I could.  

Sometime in early February last year, it was apparent Bill would not last much longer. His brother told me he and his sweet Tennessee bride and their sons were planning on visiting in late March. 

In my role, I felt I needed to be extremely direct. Not only with Bill, but with his family. I explained that I thought that would be too late. I wasn't sure he would still be alive in those six weeks. His brother took my assessment to heart and arranged to come visit, alone just a couple of weeks later. 

As I sat at my brothers' table that day, Bill had rallied back and was able to produce all of the paperwork we needed to get things rolling. I wondered if my cousin thought I had been exaggerating. However the rallying only lasted one day and before his brother headed back home, he was again in really bad shape. 

His brother planned to return again as they had originally planned in late March. 

And from there the story takes an even more tragic turn. 

In late February, the brother and his sweet bride were going for their normal morning run. She had been out of breath for some time, enough to go to the doctor who sent her to the hospital. Where they found a tremendous amount of fluid on those perfectly healthy lungs. A liter and a half. 

And it was cancerous. 

How can that be?  

This woman was in incredible shape. She ate right, never smoked, ran several miles every day.  Not to mention that it just didn't seem fair.  The world is bereft of such sweet people. She was kind, gentle, sweet and loving. She was only 49. How did she get lung cancer?

After the diagnosis, the doctor explained that her cancer was not curable but was certainly treatable. He indicated he had patients that had been diagnosed ten years ago. The treatment was occasional rounds of chemo. There was some hope. Not great news, but not devastating either. 

Obviously the family trip in March would be out for my cousin. His wife needed to start chemo right away and although his brother was dying, he had to be there for his "child bride" as he lovingly called her. 

The next few weeks Bill grew steadily worse. Hospice was finally engaged and began regular visits. By then, my brother Mark was a full time nurse to a very belligerent patient. Since Bill had been a nurse, he was insistent he knew what he should be taking and when. But his mind was going quickly. 

The great thing about Hospice is not only the care they give the patient,but the counseling they give the family. Mark has described it as more like an intervention. They counseled him on how to deal with a stubborn dying man. They also adjusted Bill's medication to keep him more sedated since the end was nearing.