Numb as all of us must be from this endless lockdown hibernation, with all of its attendant anxieties, perhaps the advent of the Easter weekend might bring a moment of pause and quiet. In the Christian tradition Easter is the end of the Lent, the season of abstention and the sombre events preceding Easter Sunday of Holy Week.
We really ought to bring back geographical literacy — a basic familiarity with the shape of countries and continents.
I realise that this sort of thing went out with the British Empire. But just because there’s no more pink on the map it doesn’t that we shouldn’t make the effort.
We especially need to get into our heads that the world is full of choke points — through which the arteries of global economy must pass.
Mom was born on Calumet Island in the county of Pontiac in Quebec. A direct descendant of her Irish forebears who fled the Potato Famine.
A child of the Depression she married my Dad shortly after WW II. In 1964 we moved to Toronto, I was just turned 5.
She was a great fierce old school Mom who loved and stood behind her family through thick and thin all her life.
My niece is donating this urn for Mom. It is fitting that it is handmade locally in the Pontiac. But now I have a bit of a dilemma on my hands.
Mom has a spot with dad reserved for her. She left no specific instruction in her will but I did find a handwritten note on an old receipt for Dad’s burial expenses asking that her ashes be sprinkled off a bridge into a pond near to where Dad is buried. Mom just found it a peaceful spot and I know she did speak of this arrangement in life. But there may be a problem. It’s on a cemetery’s property and I do not believe sprinkling ashes is allowed anywhere except for a specifically designated area.
Knowing Mom she’d simply tell us to wait till no one is looking and fulfill her wishes. We may do that, so I won’t name the cemetery but I will see what the rest of the family says first. Mom was always ready to break the rules if she thought she was in the right.
Kathy’s arrangements were largely looked after in advance, thanks to her mother’s foresight and Kath’s own sense of duty and order and thankfully Mom’s are straightforward enough as well.
When Kathy passed away many of her friends and admirers wrote wonderful tributes and comments honouring her and true to form Kathy knocked it out of the park with her own obit. Mark Steyn has collected all of Kathy’s movie reviews and created a lovely archive.
It saved me a duty I simply wasn’t able to handle at the time, maybe not ever.
Two months have passed since she left us on the 9th of January. It’s still too soon. I owe her so much and my small skill is no match for what she deserves and frankly I am still overcome at times by her loss.
Covid restrictions have halted one of the sadder duties. Clothing donations. I sometimes think I will become a sort of Mr. Havisham. I have picked out a charity for Kathy’s belongings, one we often drove by. A haven for misguided women. It’s my call and I’m pretty sure Kath approves, our sense of humour meshed wonderfully. But they are not accepting anything until the plague restrictions end. On the bright side it does give me time to be sure of what to keep in her honour. An old pair of Converse high-tops will occupy a special place by our front door.
I am still occupied with settling other aspects of her estate. Our government is there to help which means exactly the opposite it seems. There is a perverse amount of paper work and even more perverse instruction. Why do they require up to 3 “final” tax returns?
Word to the wise, if possible make your arrangements early but even that won’t spare your loved ones the aftermath of government dealings.
I have many phone calls to make starting Monday as I deal with Mom’s passing so I will not be too active on the blog. Many thanks to my co-bloggers for keeping things going.
And many thanks to all of you for your understanding as I vent my grief.
I texted the pic above to my relatives yesterday. A simple cup of tea made for Mom, and the TV clicker resting on the arm of her Lazy-Boy, fave blankets at the ready, sofa table repurposed and stocked with her ointments and creams and her phone.
It ignited a slew of memorial tea making among the family as sons, daughters, grandchildren and great grandchildren joined in and brewed up a cup for Mom.
That was Mom’s command central these past years. When not napping or watching TV she kept in contact with her family and friends.
Mom was known for her bleach strength tea, her sweet tooth and her lack of filters. And look who forgot to set out the cookies. I added some later.
Mom passed away at Toronto Western after contracting the UK covid variant at Runnymede. She would not have been in either institution were it not for the malevolence and incompetence of St. Joe’s. Do not send your elderly there, it seems geriatric treatment means charnel house conditions throughout our healthcare system. No vaccine was ever offered her at any of the hospitals she was in despite her advanced age of 96 and underlying vulnerabilities and to be blunt not all healthcare staff are “heroes” unless ill-treatment of the elderly has been elevated as a qualifier for “Hero Status.”
I spent just under four hours at Mom’s bedside in the early AM before she passed away. I have been advised by her doctor to isolate for 2 weeks and to expect a call from public health to check up on my compliance. The Doc was genuine in her concern at my having spent so long (read too long by protocol) with Mom. I was pushy enough or staff were understanding enough when I explained Mom’s sad journey through our health care system that I was granted access and sorta maybe allowed to exceed the rules a bit. Mom would understand where I get that stubbornness from. Kathy would understand too. I will isolate but I don’t care if I “catch it.”
Yes a tough year, so what’s a little Covid gonna do?
Since Mom was a Covid death the funeral homes “charge” a little bit more. There will be no visitation or viewing of Mom’s body prior to cremation. I at least was afforded time alone with Kath. We will have family and friends services once the plague is over.
I know that my grief is no worse and no better than all those who have suffered the loss of loved ones at any time but especially during this wretched era when even our grieving is so brutally truncated.
Kathy’s loss is the worst of heartbreaks as is Mom’s passing, but looking out for Mom had the benefit of keeping me busy and out of trouble after Kath was taken from us. Now with Mom gone it will be just me and Buddy and of course the never ending paperwork demanded by our bureaucracy. So it is likely a good thing Buddy is so demanding of my time.
I was blessed to have Kath and Mom in my life and for that will never be anything but a fortunate man.
I take comfort in their memory and knowing they watch over me.
Join us in a cup of tea in honour of all our loved ones.
I was called into the hospital at 3 AM this morning as Mom’s O2 level had dropped into the 70’s.
After an in person chat with the attending physician it was again decided that repositioning and suction would be used as Mom is not a good ventilator candidate.
I sat at Mom’s bedside till nearly 8 am. She is under a med induced sleep but I spoke to her throughout the night and watched as her O2 level climbed from 80 to 90 where it remained stable.
Unfortunately I am garbed up when I visit, gloved, masked, vizor’d and gowned so no congratulatory kiss for Mom.
I am home now hoping to get some rest and will head back to the hospital this afternoon barring an early call from the hospital.
I wish I could say Mom was kicking Covid butt but right now it’s stalemated.
Update: Just before 3 AM the hospital called. Mom’s Oxygen levels are sinking again. I was advised to head to the hospital.
Things are not looking good.
The Doctors advised me this afternoon that Mom likely has only a couple of days left.
Miracles happen and there is always hope.
They are treating her with steroids for the covid and anti-psychotics for the delirium she has experienced.
Steroids raise blood sugar so she is also receiving insulin.
This is on top of her heart medications, Mom suffers CHF.
Mom was resting comfortably this afternoon when I visited though she was unresponsive due to the meds. She’s currently on 15 litres of oxygen.
She was holding steady when I left this afternoon.
Then I received a call from the hospital shortly before midnight.
Mom’s oxygen levels had dropped to the mid to low 80’s. At this level over a relatively short period of time organ failure and brain damage occurs I was told.
I was given a choice – allow non-invasive procedures, primarily re-positioning & suctioning, or intubation i.e. a ventilator, an invasive procedure.
Mom’s lungs are overrun with covid. While intubation is the best means of delivering oxygen there is no guarantee that enough will be supplied given the state of the inflammation in her lungs to raise her levels to an acceptable degree.
Further mom’s heart may not be able to take the strain of intubation. There exists a real possibility based on the doctor’s experience of heart attack or stroke given mom’s condition and age.
It’s not the type of phone call anyone wants to receive. I leaned initially to intubation as the surest way to deliver oxygen but when advised the risk of weaning someone from the apparatus is as great as the intubation insertion itself I backed off and went for repositioning.
The Doctor reminded me to think of what Mum would want given she has a DNR. The risk of being left in a vegetative state is the reason why she elected to have a DNR in place.
Repositioning is just that, move her around and see if the lungs work better and the oxygen intake improves.
I was then advised to make my way to the hospital.
15 minutes later the doctor called. Their repositioning effort worked, Mom’s oxygen level has risen to the mid 90’s, not perfect but acceptable.
I still won’t sleep much tonight and will visit tomorrow.
Thank you all for caring.
Note – post is a sticky new posts will appear below.
I have been granted a visit with Mom today.
She remains in guarded condition suffering from Covid that she contracted in hospital.
A minor miracle is needed for her to recover.
I can only hope this is not the last visit, it will be my first in a month as she has been isolated.
Last Saturday I spoke with her on the phone and was elated that she sounded so energetic and so clear.
Sunday morning I got the call that they needed to transfer her from the rehab to a hospital better able to manage her suddenly deteriorating condition.
This last year has been a hard one for our family.
My niece lost her husband to cancer shortly before Christmas last year.
Her sister’s husband suffered two massive heart attacks in the last six months of 2020. Thankfully he is on the mend.
My brother is in palliative care at home dying from a bad ticker, he never smoked and rarely drank, such are the wages of abstinence.
Kathy’s loss weighs heaviest of all and the prospect of Mom’s passing is numbing.
All you can do is try to keep yourself busy and the heartache at bay.
I hope that Mom can see through the fog and know I am there.
Mom’s condition deteriorated rapidly last night, she has Covid-Pneumonia which she caught at the rehab hospital.
I spoke to her yesterday and she seemed so much her old self after a couple of tough days that today’s developments came as a shock.
She was struggling to breathe and her oxygen levels had dropped very low by normal standards so it was decided to transfer her to the Covid ward at Toronto Western.
Mom is 96 and suffers congestive heart failure. Given her frail state she is not considered a ventilator candidate. The risks of intubation are high I am told by the doctors and the reward may only amount to a delay of the inevitable. Ventilators are reserved primarily for younger patients who may stand a better chance of recovery I was informed.
She has been on a steroid treatment since the initial diagnosis at Runnymede. They have now given her diuretics’ to manage the fluid in her lungs and are giving her oxygen at the highest rate possible. Delivery is via a mask for now but a more efficient means is available if needed. Blood test results will indicate if other treatments, some described as “experimental” are suitable.
Mom is awake and she is able to converse with the staff.
She’s holding her own but the next 24 to 48 hours are critical.
I am not allowed to visit but a phone call may be arranged later.
Say a prayer and thanks for your concern.
Kathy will be entering the hospice this morning.
They will manage her symptoms better than I am able to do at home, especially now that the physical toll has become pronounced.
I wish with all my heart it wasn’t so but the Doctor says it is time and so does Kath.
I can visit of course, even sleep over but I still resent having to let her go for reasons human and legitimate and others that are selfishly petty.
We were expecting up to 2 weeks before a bed opened up, instead we got a call the same day the Doctor gave his approval.
For the best of course, but too soon.
It is a long heartbreak with many sad goodbyes like mileposts marking the way.
Please keep Kathy in your prayers.
Meaning and meaninglessness, and a year of trials
Scrooge will still send the goose around to the Cratchits, but the boy who delivers it will be wearing a mask. I imagine the nephew has called off his party, so that Uncle Ebenezer will not perform his usual Dickensian frolic (the geezer’s dance of grace and redemption). Instead, he will make the best of a bad time, sitting alone in the cold house and waving at his relatives through the Zoom lens.
Buddy keeps on growing and getting into mischief. He chewed the cord for our land line clean through nearly. He’ll eat anything.
Please keep Kathy in your thoughts today, things have been tough of late but we are still fighting.
We are on our way to the hospital now where she will have a brief stay until they sort things out.
Nightmouse will keep the home fires burning until my return.
Buddy beating the bejeebers out of his fave toy pic.twitter.com/pdbQSjoGOG
— Blazing CatFur (@Blazingcatfur) November 23, 2020
