Telling myself I'm not a monster

This post is extremely personal.  While I first wrote these words to my husband, I realized that I need the support of everyone far and near to help me support my family.  Seeing scenarios like this almost daily in my work does nothing to ease the internal conflict.  Somehow putting things out into the universe, to my husband, then to a close friend, and now to you, helps me be honest with the clarity needed at a difficult time.

I am sitting awake in my hotel room at 1:00am after trying but failing to sleep. On Thursday my Grandma was in a car accident, spinning out and then rolling her Jeep on the ice.  Firefighters got her out, but she came out of it with just a small bruise on her shoulder, and checked out fully okay at the ER.  The next afternoon she was playing cards, then found down two hours later.  Massive stroke.  Was taken to Dubuque, IA, the closest hospital, and then transported to Iowa City.  I flew out Saturday afternoon.  Today, Sunday blending into Monday morning, was my first day with her and with my family.

It's harder tonight than it has been so far.  I think I stayed up too late in the first place and I'm now riding a mean second wind of emotions.  I flew out with the gut feeling that this was it, now or never, and that my Uncle would need help acting as the medical power of attorney since he is foreign as to interventions, their meaning, and the legality behind it all. Dad brought his copy of her paperwork, stating no interventions - do not resuscitate/do not intubate, no big tests, no antibiotics, no percutaneous endogastric tube or nasogastric tube for feeding.  Since she cannot swallow and has no mode for nutrition, reading that paper line by line with Uncle and Dad this morning made the gravity of the situation all too real.  But the task of assuring compliance with her wishes is suddenly making me feel like I am being preemptive, even though I know with all my heart that she does not want any bit of her current state.

I had a hard time leaving her at the hospital this afternoon. At 4:00pm or so she became tachycardia from 110-150 bpm and had elevated blood pressure of ~160/130.  This is the grandmother who had a pacemaker put in not many months ago. The nurse tried giving her a med by IV in a small dose to no effect, gave a bit more before we left.  A priest also came by upon request between med doses to forgive her of all sins.  uncle and Dad were ready to go for the day, more so Uncle.  Dad knows he has a pattern and respects that it is a part of his coping strategy.  It was almost like a time clock thing for him, in at 8 and out at 5. 

Mom, who was still KC in constant correspondence, had suggested verbalizing to her that we are there for support but it's okay for her to go, that we respect her wishes and seek to abide by them.  I might have held off until tomorrow were it not for the sinking feeling in my gut.  How do you tell your grandmother that you love her and want to follow her wishes without sounding like you are purposely pulling the plug??  I told her it was okay to go, that Grandpa and my Aunt M were waiting for her, because that is in line with her beliefs.  Grandma was more awake and looking at me as I said it and held her hand, but I didn't know if the tear from her eye was there before I started talking.  I found myself wishing for a cardiac complication that was clearly beyond acceptable treatment that could help solve the whole thing.  Every time my emotions swell my fingertips go numb for a second. 

I went to Target for a few things that hadn't fit on the plane or ended up being empty once Dad and uncle were at the hotel. I so very much needed New York City tonight, with constant lights blazing and wide sidewalks, just to roam for a few hours with the city chaos as a blanket.  Target is connected to a mall here.  I started wandering the mall only to immediately get denied by store closures. Back to Target, make myself buy dinner on the way, and back to the hotel.  Watched the late game, Pats at Indy, with Dad and Uncle.

At 10:15 I opted to retreat to my room to sleep, but instead found myself in front of the bathroom mirror.  For a half hour I looked myself in the eye repeating many words I already said today but will have to repeat tomorrow.  I needed to practice saying them, to reassure self that I am indeed saying the right things - that assuring all interventions be withheld is, in fact, not only her wishes but also the right thing to do.  Trying to reassure myself that I am not being a monster.  

And suddenly my heart sank thinking of my brother, helplessly stuck on the other side of the world.  His job sent him first to China and then to Australia.  He called when he woke, both of us in tears trying to figure out if he had a chance to make it in time to say goodbye.  Even though I know time tables are impossible to establish for death I had to ask the nurse and doctor for my brother's sake, because otherwise he probably couldn't forgive himself (or me) if he didn't at least try to make it work.  In reality, if a ticket was somehow available he probably would not get to the airport in time.  He almost immediately had to leave for northern Australia, basically going off the grid to another mine, and will be back to the Midwest on Thursday barring weather. My mirror conversation became me defending the question of a timeline as not stupid because of its purpose for Brother's peace of mind.  I was making up arguments with imaginary docs about something that won't be an issue tomorrow.  When I caught myself saying "Don't you fucking dare talk down to my family!" I realized what I had been doing unknowingly for the last half hour.  Time for bed.

When sleep didn't come I laid there wondering if the nurse would call Uncle if things changed, if we will walk in tomorrow to find her still snoring away like a true Irishwoman from a long line of snorers, or if she will pass overnight during one of the moments like this that it hits me so very hard.  I think the difficulty Dad and Uncle had making decisions during previous admissions is less for them since I am here, which was a major part of my decision to come so quickly.  But this is quite literally the hardest thing I have ever done.  Not only am I holding the finality of someone's life in my hand, she is my frail and helpless grandmother.  I don't know what I believe in when it comes to death, but to have signs of life around me helps remove the existential crisis and supplant it with the wonderment of reincarnation, of the principle of conservation of energy, of a continuing world that had an impact from your footprint.  I suddenly feel trapped by my hotel room, by the icy ground outside, by the single digit temperatures.  

My plan is to walk in the morning amid the college students, working my way around the town and campus before heading to the hospital.  I guess you could say to wander in the cold, so that as my face burns I can tell I am still alive and in reality.  To be surrounded by the familiar beeps and sounds and smells of a hospital, so familiar after two and a half years of working in acute care, but to not have access to her chart or the docs or equipment... It is a very confusing place to be.  

The Impressive Clergyman says...

Mawage.

Mawage is wot bwings us togeder tooday.  Mawage, that bwessed awangment, that dweam wifin a dweam...

And wuv, tru wuv, will fowow you foweva... So tweasure your wuv.

Have you the wing?

And, despite flying by the seat of our pants, we even ended up with a flower girl.  Perfect :)

The tusami.

The Gabster, ~72 hours old.

Her chubby cheeks photograph larger than they really are, though her face and barely existent cone head do look more like she's three weeks old rather than a three days.  I never saw the rest of her since since she was swaddled, though apparently her body looks like a legitimate newborn.  Nose like mama.  Upper lip like papa.  Temper like a Comrie (the nurses tried to blame the temper on Tim since he's red headed -- hah!).  Farts like a Buckholz.  Lower lip and jaw quiver competitive with hummingbirds.   Likes the world through squinty eyes.

All in all, eight pounds of wonderfulness.

I joked before leaving for KC that friends should batten the hatches, get the duct tape ready and start storing water.  No storms were predicted for the trip, but that never stopped Mother Nature before.  Since blizzard, earthquake and hurricane were already checked off the list, I figured a winter tornado or an Australia-sized comet or an alien invasion was next.

Turned out to be the year of the tusami.  Sic erat scriptum.

Saturday night we went to a mexican restaurant.  Good food, good times.  The waitress was spot on with her duties and knew the menu inside and out, though had absolutely not a clue as to beer and was prone to letter swaps in the same way I am.  Mom: "What do you have on tap?"  Waitress: "Biller Light, Mud Light... oh, wait, um..."  Nothing of our order got mixed up, so it was forgivable.  But it did set a tone of humorous clumsiness for the evening.

We talked of baby Gabby, of life as new parents, of news with each of us.  Mom asked if a woman a few tables away would qualify as the so-called Jersey Girl look she has read about but not seen in person.  I gave an adapted version of my redneck vs. hillbilly vs. hick vs. white trash lecture, though tailored to Jersey Girl vs. white trash.  (One day I hope to make a Venn diagram of my redneck vs. hillbilly vs. hick vs. white trash lecture, having been inspired by the Nerd Venn Diagram that rectifies the differences between nerd vs. geek vs. dweeb vs. dork.  But that's a different conversation for a different day.)

Then our waitress returned the credit card receipt for my dad to sign.  Dad reached across the table diagonally only to send a midwest-sized glass of ice water across the table.  I witnessed the entire event without blinking an eye.  The glass was full to something just shy of a liter, and the flood-turned-waterfall went straight for my mom's lap.  Mom froze and her eyes got big.  Sam, at Mom's right, started leaning away with an "Oh snap, look at 'er go!" look on his face.  Dad grabbed and uprighted the glass, though by then all the water was well on its way.  Kristin watched on from the far side of the booth with a half smile hidden by a cupped hand in surprise.  I yelled "Mom! Move!"  So she did -- and she started shoveling the ice and water towards Sam like a luau gone Red Cross disaster relief, delicate flick of the wrists and all.  Needless to say, the luau was not very effective for water redirection or for swimming.  Sam, with one butt cheek still lofted, now opted for his one eyebrow look of "Whaaa?"  I yelled "Mom!  Get up!  GET.  UP."  She grabbed her purse and coat and fought her way out of the booth to standing.

Half a beat passed before we all crumbled into laughter.  Ten full minutes of beat red faces (and we are German and Irish -- we can turn RED), crying, and hickuping in attempt to actually breathe.  Lots of reenacting.  The hostesses and other waiters kept peering over to make sure none of us blew a blood vessel and needed an ambulance.  I continued to spontaneously burst out into laughter on the drive home.  Usually this is met with eye rolling; this time it got everyone laughing again.

Back home we -- and by "we" I mean everyone excluding Mom -- pondered how to refer to that evening in the future.  "The year of the flood?"  "The year of the waterfall?"  "Tsunami?"  Mom started to chime in at that one, "The tusami..."  I cut her off, "Tusami?!?  That fits perfectly with the luau method."  So ensued another reenactment, and another round of gut busting laughter. 

Gabriella Marie, you've got yourself one helluva family over here.

Gabster has arrived

My brother - now a father (Photo thanks to my mama.)

My older brother and his wife had their first kid today -- Gabriella Marie, 8 lbs. 7 oz. and 20 inches long. 

I was allowed to keep my phone on me today to check for updates.  I have not stopped bouncing since this morning once I heard that things were in full swing.  I also don't think I've ever before been this excited about someone else's baby.  (Cue the scene in Dave when he plays with the hydraulic arms. "I once caught a fish... thiiiis biiiiig.")  Picked up a handful of fresh film to use this weekend for my whirlwind visit to meet the young Gabsterness.  Or Gabgab.  Or Little Fire Ball. 

I swoon, and I have not even seen her in person yet.  Soon. 

Everyone needs to dust off their anti-snow dance moves to makes sure that I can get back in time for work on Monday.  Why there is always some form of an east coast storm when I fly to Kansas City I do not know, nor will I ever know.  December 2010 was the NYC blizzard delaying my return.  August 2011 was the Virginia earthquake (which shook downtown NYC) on during the flight out and the NYC hurricane delaying my return.  Whatever it is that snuck its way into the weekend forecast -- which was, until this evening, reported as sunny and clear through the middle of next week *ahem*... I've got the evil eye on you.  Watch out.

*bounce*bounce*bounce*bounce*

Sam & Kristin got hitched

Congratulations to The Little One and my new sister-in-law!  Couldn't be happier for the two of them.  The weekend was a blast on all fronts.  I think Kristin's family never stops moving or talking, and I seriously doubt that they know the definition of sleep.

For your viewing pleasure, an eleven-part series (now complete) covering events from Friday and Saturday. 

Catching up from the last week.

Nearing midterm for the affiliation means filling out (by hand, as Hunter is one of very few school who have no converted to the electronic version) 27 pages of a 40 page packet that painstakingly dissects all theoretical elements of a student therapist's performance and abilities.  My Clinical Instructor also fills out one of her own.  The midterm takes place when we compare views of my performance.  If your mind's response is to call the process laborious, then you've hit the thumb that is holding the nail meant to go into the coffin.  I have five pages to go and have already spent about 6 hours filling it out.  Waa waa, boo hiss.  Whatever.  There are a few things frustrating me about this affiliation, but they are not appropriate to discuss online.  In reality they are probably very similar frustrations that many students experience due to the nature of the affiliation process.  But I will say that the good things by far outweigh the frustrations, for which I feel lucky since not all student can say this.

I've found the key to keeping my joints happy in the summer is to ice immediately after every run and possibly every night as prophylaxis.  I'm starting to think I need to get two more ice packs so that with four in total I can ice both knees and both ankle/foot simultaneously.  I am, quite thankfully, acclimating to summer heat.  This morning I was able to run without any sensation of suffocation or burning from the inside out.  Not that I'm fully comfortable, but its just better.  Now if only running with ice packs on my knees were realistic for tendon function and wouldn't cause me to run like a penguin....

This past weekend's run was again over the George Washington Bridge and onto the Palisades Road, totaling 20 miles in about 2 hours 50 minutes.  The fun is that you are always either climbing or descending, and while this may sound counter intuitive to some it actually makes my legs much happier.  Running on flat road bums out my mind and my body.  Hence why I rarely stay on flat land, usually for very rehab oriented runs that I have not needed in quite some time *knock on wood*.  Last year I ran the Brooklyn 1/2 Marathon, which included a little over two laps in Prospect Park followed by a straight shot south on Ocean Parkway with a quick finish on the Coney Island boardwalk.  The portion on Ocean Parkway is 5.5-ish miles of nearly flat road with a minimum of 3 lanes in each direction and trees/houses/etc very far back set from the road.  The thing feels like a friggin highway leading to nowhere, and heat waves radiating from the road are the only block to seeing the next mile marker sign awaiting you dead straight ahead.  Can you tell I was thrilled?  Hence why I wasn't all that troubled with debating running it again this year versus running Bear Mountain.  Give me two and a half times the distance but on a much more interesting and technical course any day.  Granted retrospection alters your memory of events, but my mind places equal mental taxation to each of the Brooklyn 13.1 miles and the Bear Mountain 31 miles.  Goes to show what flat roads do to me. 

This weekend was extremely social.  I had friends over on Friday night who I hadn't seen in some time.  I needed to exchange stories, and I got exactly that and then some.  Sadie decided to show off for some of the guys.  In the background you can hear fellow students discussing their affils, Al Green offering sound scape, and some attempts to cheer on Sadie (like the fella in the background).  She was at it for a good minute before I got my camera out.

Saturday marked the arrival of Tim (my brother), Jenny (sister-in-law), and their friends Morgan and Jaime.  I met them in the Upper West Side near their hotel for lunch that ended up with more of a brunch menu.  I'm so anti-fabulous about the city these days that I forgot that my missing breakfast that morning would be fulfilled by restaurants' brunch menus that last as long as through four in the afternoon.  They went for a walk, I ran some errands on the way home, including a chat about possible non-chafing gear from my friend Mike who works at Patagonia UWS and who joined me for RAGBRAI and other cycling adventures in previous years.  That was a bust, but a few other errands were successful on the way home.

A few hours later the group joined me at my apartment to hang out, see where I lived and to meet the kittehs, who put on a good show of synchronous yodeling once it came to feeding time.  When asked where they'd like to find dinner, no one cared until I mentioned that Nathan's job is located in Hell's Kitchen.  Tim found the neighborhood name quaint, so south we headed.  Once resurfaced at 59th street we turned south to scope out restaurants on the way to say hi to Nathan.  Then we parked ourselves at El Centro, and Nathan met us once off work. 

Sunday started with my aforementioned long run, after which I quickly iced, showered, and joined the group at the NYC Pride March.  I mentioned that marriage equality was on the cusp between approval or failure.  Last Friday the bill was approved at something like 11 or 11:30pm.  Meant it was an extra exuberant celebration this weekend to finish off Pride Week.  Governor Cuomo, who introduced the bill in the first place, marched along with Mayor Bloomberg and City Council Speaker Christine Quinn.  I am impressed that Cuomo got the legislature to actually act on things this time around.

But I hear the Senate republican, who have the majority and thus decide what bills come to the floor, decided to vote on a state vegetable before attending to the equality of marriage bill.  Was this to produce more grand effect, or was this a version of stalling while the needed votes were still sought?  Likely something much less meaningful.  Regardless, the newly designated state vegetable: corn!  Nice.  So much for distinction from all those other states that are covered in corn.  I hear there is a lot of corn upstate between the stereotyped apple orchards, but I still don't find that impressive.  To have corn as your vegetable then you have to LOVE corn.  Take Iowa, where corn festivals are serious and frequent endeavors.  Then again, the runner up was an onion. 

Back to Tim and Jenny's visit.  I was grateful for the consensus of simply hanging out with no grand plans.  The parade was a hoot, but we happily left once the crowds got the best of us.  It started at noon, I met the group at 1, by 1:30 people needed to sit and rest away from the crowd.  We attempted a pizza joint Tim dutifully found via his smartphone that had good ratings, though unbeknownst to us (or the web) it was closed and vacated.  So we walked around the corner and took the first place we found, a thin crust pizza joint.  How thin?  Well, thinner than just about any cracker I've had before.  They offered a "nine-grain organic crust" for $2 extra per large pizza.  But if the crust is such that eating an entire pizza would accumulate the quantity of one normal slice's worth of crust, how much nutritional benefit would you actual yield from a few slices of the multigrain? 

I think the crowd wore us down much more than expected.  When I met up with them, they actually had crossed to the east side of the street before heading south to the parade, so that meant after eating and being done with the crowd we had to either traverse one of few streets allowing cross-throughs in sardine/cattle run form or we had to walk nearly a mile north just to then head west and south again to Morgan and Jaime's bus home.  We opted to traverse.  After surviving the 15 minutes that required we went for ice cream at the Ben & Jerry's near the needed bus stop and a quick stopover at a drug store.  Back to Philly for Morgan and Jaime, back uptown for me, Tim and Jenny.  We said our goodbyes on the subway, as I had a pile of paperwork awaiting me that I so dutifully sidelined in lieu of family time.  Nicely, the weekend left me feeling refreshed when waking up on Monday morning.

Now it is Wednesday.  I survived my birthday on Monday, managed to keep it relatively quiet (by preference).  This morning Nathan left for a vacation to see family upstate.  After putting seeing him off to his bus I walked a different route to work and ran into a friend of a friend who I have a knack of running into every 4 months nearly to the date.  After work I walked a little extra rather than getting on the nearest train, and ran into a former co-worker I hadn't seen since September of last year who was attending an acting workshop in midtown.  Sometimes NYC is not as big as it seems, but that does not preclude its intensity....