Since my last blog...

I thought my daughter-in-law, Stephanie had lost all her hair due to the chemo, but Thanksgiving was at her house, and she had a short blond haircut, no longer than 1/2" long. She says some of it has already fallen out, and the rest will follow. It usually takes several months of chemo before one goes absolutely bald. I said it was good to see it going by degrees, as it will be far less shocking when it's all gone. She's was so positive that she's going to get through this, and by Thanksgiving, the tumors... there were two lumps... were shrunk to nothing already from the chemo. She seemed in great spirits and everyone there was so happy to be there and realized what Thanksgiving was really all about: the people you love. My daughter who lives in Virginia Beach came up directly to Alb and Stephanie's and stayed there until Saturday morning when also my stepdaughter Trese came with family. Just before they arrived I got a phone call from the son of the man whom I've been driving two and a half years to and from dialysis.

He told me that M. had died on Friday, 11/21/08. The dogs were barking at my families' arrivals, and I said my good byes to M.'s son, and thanked him for telling me. I wasn't able to tell the girls until later. They knew how much I cared for this man. I knew he was terminal, but it's strange, when one can only give up getting treatment to die, that kind of death seems so different. I find I don't know how to take that. I think he did it for his family, and when he decided to, he thought the death was going to be hard and cruel, but his daughters who are nurses and had read up on such, found that it was one of the most peaceful deaths. I did look it up online, as I kind of had to hear it from the "horse's mouth." There was substantial reports from notable authority that this was so. It was therefore easier to visit him knowing that.

I visited him once since he gave up treatment two weeks previous, and if I was him I may have given up long ago... the idea of dialysis really freaks me out. He had cancer of the bladder, which they had to remove, and then his kidneys stopped functioning after several months, though he still wears a catheter bag that collects little. He had been on dialysis 3x a week. It took a lot of his week away from him, and his vision has gone so he can't read during treatment, and no longer liked watching TV during his 4 hours of dialysis. He was a pilot for the Navy during the Korean Conflict. He saw some action and hated war. He was an interesting guy with a great sense of humor, and someone with whom, I could talk about ANYTHING! It was a rare thing. He had a great personality and sense of humor. His wife died a year earlier of the effects to her lungs from having survived lung cancer. She was a peach too. His family tried to take care of him, but it had become so difficult for them that I think that's what's pushed him over the edge of caring about living anymore. I'm not in their shoes, so I won't judge them, I think M. wanted to give up for them. At first I was angry with them, but... Now I no longer hold any anger towards them.

When I went over to see him the Monday after he made his decision, he was still doing well... almost seemed better than ever, but it was only 5 days since his last dialysis. I brought him a book mark with a picture of "The Hand of God" and a small child fitting into that hand with the quote from Isiah 49:15, "I will not forget you... I have held you in the palm of my hand." I wrote on the other side, "[M.], You are still my hero. I too will not forget you. Love, [...]Jo."

I'm sure his wife will be waiting for him on the Other Side, and Heaven has gained for our loss.

I'm going to copy some prose by C. Raymond Beran about what friendship is, and it is the type of friendship I had with M.

Cranberry Jo