Epistle 2: If You Can You Should-Making Meaning In Our More Time
August 11, 2015
It has now been a bit more than nine weeks since I looked into my mother's terrified eyes and sought to set into motion a better death than that which was present in that moment. This current epistle seeks to update for those who may want to know what has proceeded in these past weeks.
For the sake of those who are concerned or interested, yet many not want to wade through another tome, I will answer the question as succinctly as possible.
The earlier rendition was relatively easy, as it was a way of keeping my head above water in a churning sea. Since she has been home, and I have gone back and forth from Berkeley to Los Angeles, “my life” distracts me from her death, so a consistent narrative has been harder to maintain.
There are still many stories full of poverty and paradoxes from this dying time. In other emails, I will ramble on as a witness who is struggling to stay awake when the dominant culture wants to put me to sleep.
Betty Lukas, 90, has slowly regained several of her ADLs (activities of daily life) in the past nine weeks. She has stubbornly shed the diapers, the constant oxygen, and the walker. She is adamant in her desire to remove any reminders of her dependence.
However, she also attempts to face her death. Since returning home, she has met with the catering manager of the location where she wants her memorial; she as rewritten her obituary numerous time; and she has given 3/4 of her considerable wardrobe to a charity.
She confides to me that she "wants to control" this stuff. She laments that I don't know what to "do" or how to "be.” Those devilish words are so central to the trace-making of individuality.
Mom seems quite content with making her breakfast and sitting in her favorite chair reading the newspaper or watching Dodgers. She finished her column for the local newspaper about her trip to the hospital, as well as a follow-up on being in hospice. She has received calls from the power structure of the hospital wanting to curry her favor. As a lifelong newspaper person, she is always looking for a story. She is, however, highly skeptical of the hospital’s motivations.
A plateau has been reached. All the excitement about the small gains in ADLs has been muted by the new maladies which are lurking. The mystery continues... One encouraging development is that the tense regarding her life has changed from the ubiquitous if to when. What a difference that makes.
During all this, the wheel of life has kept turning. Late in July, Mona Adiera Lukas-Pollack was born to my son and daughter-in-law. Now two weeks home after a slightly harrowing journey into the world by contemporary medical standards, she is growing with regular feeds and bowel movements. It seems fitting that these are the same criteria in which my aging parents used to find contentment each day.
Oh, as I spin round and round…
Brian