it never rains, but...

I called Mom again on my way to work this morning and talked to her for a few minutes, also saying hello and I love you to Grandma Doris, whose speech is thicker and less intelligible today than yesterday. She developed a nasty cough overnight; Mom said if it continued the hospital would give her a gel-based cough medication.

Then I was at work, where I learned that my coworker MS has an abcess in one of her wisdom teeth, so the tooth needs to be pulled ASAP. She's made an appointment for Monday, but she's both afraid to be awake during the surgery and afraid of being knocked out by anesthesia, so that's obviously causing her a lot of stress and there are no good solutions. (Mel, I am sending you virtual hugs if you're reading this!)

Anyway.

I called Dad when I got home from work for an update. He said there was no real change in Iowa, but on a completely different topic, my Great Uncle Dick's niece Yvette called Dad in an attempt to get hold of my Uncle Charles. Apparently Uncle Dick had a heart attack and is in the hospital. And since the call was made specifically to get hold of Uncle Charles -- who is the executor of Uncle Dick's will -- instead of just to notify family members... we are afraid this may not be something he'll recover from.

...

It certainly does pour.

...

On the other hand, at least AO's son Josh is continuing to recover from his horrible car crash last summer. He can climb a flight of stairs at least once a day, which means he was recently able to sleep in his own bed for the first time in six months, and also take a shower instead of a sponge bath. He is thinking of starting to compose music again, even though he's unable to play piano or other instruments up to his previous skill level. (Given that he is/was a professional musician, and that among other obstacles one of his elbows is currently fused immobile, this is not surprising, but understandably frustrating for him.) So yeah. At least things are going well for someone.

update on family stuff

Got another email from Dad today, sent to me and Vicky:

Grandma Doris is breathing somewhat more weakly but is still sometimes awake and seems to know that she has family there. Over yesterday, last night, and this morning she has had no in-take beyond some half-teaspoons of broth, and no out-go either. Charles flies home this afternoon; Bill is coming back, and Cara is thinking about driving back tomorrow, depending on circumstances.

Dick is not at death's door but in anything but great shape. Kathy (neighbor) and Yvette (niece, in Texas) were trying to get hold of Charles to see if along with the will he might have a medical power document or power of attorney, etc. Dick could be discharged from the hospital now but the hospital people won't discharge him to go back to his house unless he has extensive assistance arranged, and in view of the split level nature of the house, maybe not even with assistance. He should have some procedure, Lessie thinks it may be angioplasty, which he is refusing. So it looks like he's going to have to have other living arrangements, and he is ornery.

Charles doesn't think he has any medical document but isn't sure so he has to search his papers. There seems to be no arrangement for who would be in charge if Dick were unconscious or otherwise incapacitated, which probably means that legally it would fall to his sister Jane, who is in Texas (next door to Yvette) and not in good shape herself. As Dickens put, "It's a muddle."

By the way, in case we haven't told you clearly, if we were unable to act for each other, you two will be the ones officially put on the spot for decisions and handling our affairs.

love,
Dad


Uncle Dick was married to Grandma Doris's younger sister Duke (childhood nickname, don't ask). Duke died several years ago, and since then Dick has essentially been waiting to die himself. He isn't actively seeking death, but he consistently refuses treatments that might fix his various health problems, preferring to simply endure them and let them run their courses. So I have no idea what will happen now, if he isn't able to live at home alone as he's used to doing, but won't move or accept a home aid either.

Anyway.

Today is also Vicky's birthday -- she is 26 now. What a horrible, horrible time for so many things to go so wrong.

Doris Culmer: in memoriam

Grandma Doris died shortly after 9pm EST (which would be 8pm in Iowa).

Uncle Bill was with her at the time -- Uncle Charles had flown home, and Mom was at her motel catching some sleep so she could take another shift later tonight -- and he called Mom to tell her that if she hurried... but Grandma Doris was gone by the time Mom got to the hospital. She just breathed less and less, with a bit more labor each breath, and then stopped. The attending nurse apparently said it was one of the quietest and easiest deaths she's seen. Which is something, I suppose.

Mom called Dad and then me; Dad will email Vicky. Uncle Bill is calling Aunt Cara and Uncle Charles.

Mom sounded... calm, I guess. And grieving, and hurt, but mostly calm. I think this is because we've all been grieving Grandma Doris in a long, attenuated process for several years, as she slipped away into dementia. We lost her by degrees, not all at once.

The last step is still off a cliff, though. It still hurts.

...

Doris Pitula Culmer: November 26, 1917 to March 4, 2011. She was born and raised in railroad depots in North and South Dakota, and loved trains all her life. She graduated college in a time when many women didn't even think of secondary education. She was married for fifty years and had four children, four grandchildren, three step-grandchildren, and three step-great-grandchildren, last I knew. She taught special education classes for decades, and was a friend and mentor to a lot of children even after that, until she couldn't go volunteer in elementary school reading programs anymore.

Grandma Doris babysat me and Vicky sometimes when we were younger, before she started fading; she let us get away with a lot, including playing with her cool and sometimes expensive knick-knacks as if they were cheap and disposable toys. (In return, we never broke them.) She was always warm, she generally retained a cheerful outlook, and she adored having people around to talk to. She had a huge collection of the most ridiculous costume-jewelry-style necklaces that I loved to try on, and she made them look good when she wore them. She enjoyed the color red, watching wildlife out of her window, and listening for trains passing through town in the night.

She had a good life, by and large.

I miss her already.