The End of a Battle, but the War Goes On…

James Preston Tyerman passed away yesterday, Friday November 19, around noon. It was just 9 days after his 63^rd birthday.

My dad always hated hospitals so it is wonderful he didn’t spend his last moments there. He was in the living room in his wheelchair. Josh, Mom, and Aunt Linda were all there.

Roberta from Hospice came over within 5 minutes of my mom’s call to check his vitals to make sure he had gone to a better place and help with preparations.

This past week was a progressive decline… Just five days before I was here and he was still walking, with assistance. Since then he became bedridden. Friday was a rough morning - he was very weak, refused oxygen, and just couldn’t seem to get warm enough.

I am so relieved he is not suffering in such great pain anymore. It is not a way to live. We are happy he was at home, although this was a struggle for the family too.

We plan to spread his ashes over the sand dunes when the weather is better – perhaps in April. We might have an informal memorial service sooner …details to come. I am still going to put together the aforementioned "memory book."

I can’t believe this all happened in only about a year. Cancer is a terrible disease that should be a “war” we are spending energy, time, & money on, instead of these other dishonorable, futile wars. The hardest thing to watch is how cancer sucks the vitality from a person, especially someone that had so much verve.

My father’s strength will live on in us and his spirit will not be forgotten…

One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest

Never mind trying to maintain sanity - it's easier to embrace the insanity. Especially when I feel like I am surrounded by the animal version of One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest: a deformed kitten limps around like a bird with a broken wing, its sibling's raspy breathing is as heavy as my father's, a black & white cat that's fat enough to be in the Guinness Book of World Records gorges itself, ole "Mini-Me" (Siamese mix) sneezes so hard it shakes her entire frail body, the token "defective" rabbit hops happily in the backyard, and the chicken's perch above the desk remains empty.

Although it's crazy, it's home. Perusing the garage for a clipboard, I see tidbits of notes my dad wrote to others - imparting his knowledge about cars and tools. The smell of grease, oil and metal are more so my father's scent than Old Spice ever was. The huge "fix-it-yourself" manuals gather dust on the shelf above the always-stocked tool chest... In fact, the only salient piece that doesn't seem to have dust on it is the smooth chrome on the Harley.

Roberta from Hospice of the Owens Valley was very sweet. I am amazed these wonderful people are on-call 24-7 to help with all kinds of needs - physical, social, emotional... talk about angels. Their philosophy statement is, "We believe death is a natural part of, and necessary closure to, life as we know it. It is our philosophy that dying persons have the potential to learn, teach, console, enjoy, plan, and laugh during this period of living." They are all about openly and honestly dealing with the prospect of death, which is healthy.

While Hospice will help with providing support services and some equipment, eventually Pioneer Home and Health Agency is the alternative when our needs are more extensive and complex. Already, Roberta has helped greatly - she informed us with the good news that my dad's oxygen level is up to 95% while using the tank, provided us with a thorough living will and other documents, and helped to communicate with Dr. Boo regarding a change in his pain medication to ease his suffering. BTW, I just heard on the news (Stanford study) that love relieves pain more than a pain killer; the same areas in the brain that are used for falling in love are also used to feel pain... Hmmm... Wish it were so simple a solution.

Knowing more about the free Hospice support makes me feel more comfortable about having to go back to LA to work. Today I realized that I could be satisfied to just hang around and help care for my dad as a full-time "job." Later I received an email from my partner teacher saying the students missed me and this made me realize that at least I have a meaningful job to return to...

Most of all, I wish my dad didn't have to go through the immense pain and discomfort he is withstanding... I can't help but think of Chief Bromden, the seemingly mute half-Indian patient in the Cuckoo Nest, for his strength that extended beyond brawn.

Poking Some Fun to Maintain Some Sanity

This afternoon my dad showered and even shaved to greet Kelliann, Aunt Linda, and I. Linda noted his swelling in his face seemed better today, except his lips. She shared that the other day my mom told him, "Well, Angelina Jolie has nothing on you!" :-)

Personally, I think his distended belly and his swole cheeks make him look like Santa Claus, with a button nose. I just wish he had Santa's "magic"...

Thanks to Allison and Google images, my brother and I are also working on communication cards for him to point to (e.g. "What time is it?", ice pack, massage neck, etc.), rather than writing out simple requests, which is increasingly difficult for him.

I went to Dwayne's Pharmacy to buy some Therafirm socks for his legs. His ankles have edema (they're very swollen) and these particular socks (which also come as support hose for women) are helpful for reducing swelling, promoting blood circulation, and preventing varicose veins.

So at least now he has his "stockings." I think he'd like his Harley to be his "sleigh"...

Roberta from Hospice is coming at 1:00 tomorrow.