TheBanyanTree: Tiptoeing Around Death

[Margaret R. Kramer]

Ray’s lungs are so damaged by disease, smoking, and small particles of dust
that I honestly don’t know how he breathes.  Idiopathic pulmonary fibrosis
was his diagnosis from a few years back after a three week stay in the
hospital which included a lung biopsy and many other tests.  His lungs
almost go into seizures, kind of like asthma, but the doctors couldn’t
figure out what causes it.

Ray’s is better.  He’s not on oxygen.  He’s not on steroids.  He does most
of the things he’s always done.  But he’s 75 years old and he’s slowing
down.  He can’t walk fast or far.  Climbing stairs is a major undertaking.
His chest is heaving when he gets to the top.  He’s on blood pressure
medication, because the strain on his lungs is putting a strain on his
circulatory system.

An upper respiratory infection is a big deal for him.  Those little germs
skip his nose and joyfully play in his lungs.  Then he coughs and coughs,
which is the most terrifying rasping sound imaginable.  Yesterday he was
coughing up blood.  I was horrified, but he didn’t think it was a big deal.

This little cold also brought along diarrhea and a lack of appetite.  Ray is
already below normal weight; he is skin and bones and was just starting to
eat again after many months of skipping meals.  Ray is so light and
delicate, a strong wind could blow him apart.  He was also having heartburn,
which was probably tearing up his esophagus.

Ray slept most of the day, which is almost unheard of for him.  He usually
will play poker on the computer, watch TV, or putter around the house.  But
yesterday, the couch was his best friend,  he snuggled up with a heating
pad, and I worried about him as I did my chores.

I know sleep is the ultimate healer, so I didn’t disturb him.  I watched his
breathing, slow up and slow down, and since he wasn’t struggling, he was
doing OK.  He didn’t have a fever.

Of course, something else awful always seems to happen when something awful
is happening.  Our stupid main drain backed up while I was doing laundry and
half the basement was flooded with about an inch of water.

I ran out and got some liquid plumber, which did the trick until Ray flushed
the toilet, and the water seeped back into the basement again.  OK, I couldn
’t handle this on my own, so I called Roto Rooter.  $219 later we had a
clean drain and I could do laundry again.  I sucked up most of the water
with our wet/dry vacuum and now have a fan going to dry up the excess
moisture.  Of course, we’re in the middle of a major rain event, so the
humidity is almost 100%.  Water, water everywhere.

Meanwhile, I’m in the middle of a work crisis.  Our team is in our manager’s
dog house.  We’re scrambling to redo the documentation we presented to our
client.  I needed to do some serious work this weekend.  I managed to get
some stuff done in the late afternoon while waiting for Roto Rooter to show
up.

But along with death and water, I was fighting enormous feelings of
inadequacy and also anger towards our project manager, because all of this
is so unfair.  I hate management by fear, but I now know that’s how she is
going to manage.  Who’s to say that’s wrong?  She’s been a manager for many
years and I’m a bottom feeder and have no desire to manage.  She’s been
successful and I just drift along.  I hate that power play management style
and eventually I just ignore it and in the process lose my respect for that
manager.

Oh, well, I’m just going to do what I’m told, because in a couple of months,
she’ll have another crisis, and will forget all about us.  I’ll get done
what I need to get done.  I’ll take her nasty comments with a smile.  And
just move on.

Ray perked up enough to check out the situation in the basement.  But even
that small effort took everything out of him.  He finally took two Tylenol
cold pills and within a half hour or so, he was almost back to normal.  The
coughing wasn’t as bad.  He took interest in the Final Four game that was on
TV.  He slept well last night with no coughing.  He was breathing easy and
felt cool to the touch.

I never know exactly what to do for Ray.  I’m so aware of my body workings
that I immediately know if I need to see a doctor or if I need to take some
ibuprofen or whatever.  I’m rarely stymied by myself.  By with Ray, I depend
on him to guide me.  His guidance is to leave him alone.  But I have a
million questions.  Do we need to go to the emergency room?  Can I wait
until Monday?  Or is this just a virus that needs to run its course?  I
never know what to do.  I feel inadequate as a guardian of his life.

Dawn brings a new day with a chance to begin again.  The basement is drying
out.  I’ll get my work done.  And maybe death will pass us by.

Margaret R. Kramer
margaretkramer at comcast.net
margaret.kramer at polarispublications.com

Easter spells out beauty, the rare beauty of new life.
~S.D. Gordon