Unspoken Fear

All of us have fears. Let’s not kid ourselves. No matter how bad-ass we think we are, there are things that send chills through us, deep down to the core.

I have a few fears, but one in particular, is a fear that I never voice. Why? Maybe because if I acknowledge it out loud, it may become reality. The sane side of me knows that’s not true. But then that little voice creeps into my mind…daring me to speak it out loud. So, I don’t.

Do you worry about your loved ones? The ones that are closest to you? Of course you do! If you don’t, you don’t have a soul and you might as well just quit reading right now.

My son is in the military, and I worry about him on each of his deployments. I always breathe a sigh of relief when he’s back home.

The person I worry about most though is my husband. Not because he is weak, or can’t take care of himself. He’s just the opposite. But his job is something that daily puts him on the forefront of danger. He’s a helicopter pilot. Not just any helicopter pilot. He’s a fire pilot.

While some say he has the “coolest” job ever, I see it from a slightly more realistic point of view. Yes, his job is exciting, thrilling and heroic, but those are perceptions that don’t reveal what his job truly is to me…dangerous. Don’t get me wrong. I don’t hate his job. On the contrary. I think his job is awesome. I used to fly with him all the time when he was on a news helicopter in the Los Angeles area. It’s a blast!! But the dangers he faces each and every day are not something most people experience or even think about. Every time he gets in that aircraft, whether it is on a training flight, or him and his crew are heading to a fire, there is the possibility of him not coming back home. We’ve had close friends and co-workers (I also used to work in the helicopter industry at a maintenance facility) that perished in helicopter crashes. I can’t even begin to explain the chill that goes right through me when we get news of another fatality. And while I know my husband is an ultra safe pilot and his aircraft is maintained impeccably, accidents do happen. Parts fail. There are bird strikes. Power lines become invisible during flight. Piece-of-shit drone operators fly their drones through the middle of fires where my husband is trying to put out the flames. I don’t see the need to get footage of flames up close, while endangering multitudes of firefighters on the ground and in the air. God forbid a drone is ever the cause of and accident involving my husband while he is flying, I will make sure that operator dies a slow and painful death.

So, every day my husband is at work, I have that nagging fear in the back of my mind. Is he safe? Is his crew safe? Will I get “That Call”?. On a few occasions, I’ve received phone calls late at night from one of his Captains. My heart stops when I see the caller ID. Do I pick up the phone? Do I let it go to voicemail? Do I want to know? But thank goodness, it was him calling me from someone else’s phone, because the battery on his died. *sigh*

While this fear is with me every day he is at work, I don’t dwell on it or let it consume me. I think if he realized how deeply it affects me, he would be bothered. And I don’t want him to be distracted at his job, worrying about me worrying. I pray that God keeps him and his crew safe. I pray that he comes home after his weekly shift. I pray that he makes it to retirement and we can go off and enjoy our golden years. But I also know that our plans for our future can be snuffed out in a flash. Without him, life would never be the same, especially if he was taken from me in a work related accident. So, I try to enjoy each moment I have with him. We’re not perfect and we have THOSE moments, but we always make sure we don’t part angry. Regret is a bitch I don’t want to live with.

 

Courage is resistance to fear, mastery of fear, not absence of fear.

~Mark Twain~

The Final Goodbye

I’ve heard people ponder the question “If you knew your loved one was going to die, would you want the opportunity to say goodbye?”

For the most part, people answer a resounding “YES!!!”

I suppose earlier in my life I probably would have said the same, but no longer to I feel that way.

Let me explain….

In 2001 or 2002, my mom, my best friend, my everything was diagnosed with breast cancer. Talk about a punch in the gut! This was not something I ever expected to happen to someone so active and strong. She was the backbone of our family. The most God-fearing, loving and kind person you could ever meet. How could this be happening to her?

I took some time off work and traveled to Washington state to be there with her during her surgery and to help her with her recovery from a mastectomy. It was a slow road uphill, but she was a fighter. She wasn’t going to let this get the best of her. She underwent radiation and after her treatments were completed, she was pronounced cancer free. Thank God! What a miracle!

After this scare, our relationship became even closer. Although we lived states apart, we still talked on the phone every day. Sometimes multiple times a day. I always knew that her guidance and support was never more than a phone call away. There was a certain security in knowing that. My husband and I made several trips to Washington to spend time with my parents, and in turn they made many trips down to California to come see us. Life was good.

In 2005, for my 40^th birthday, my parents drove down and surprised me. That was awesome! But unbeknownst to me, they not only came down to celebrate my birthday with me, but also to housesit for us while my husband took me on a surprise birthday trip to Hawaii. Woohoo! While in Hawaii, we purchased a 2-week stay at a resort on the beach. The only stipulation was that we would need to use that time within the next 2 years, or we would lose it.

After we returned from Hawaii, we started talking to my parents about the 4 of us taking that trip in the next couple of years. The suite we reserved would sleep 4 adults and we couldn’t imagine anyone else we wanted to share that trip with.

We knew that we wouldn’t be going in 2006, so the plan was to return to Hawaii in the fall of 2007.

In early 2006, my parents embarked on a 2-month road trip. My mom had it all mapped out and they spent weeks exploring several states and national parks and really had a wonderful time.

A couple of months after they returned home, I received a call that sent ice through my veins. Mom’s cancer was back. Apparently, she had already been feeling very drained on their trip, but attributed that to their non-stop activities while on the road. But after they returned, her energy continued to decline. After an afternoon in the garden, her legs hurt so bad she could hardly move. Two weeks later, the pain in her legs had not subsided and my dad finally forced her to go see the doctor. It was obvious that this was more than just exhausted muscles from too much gardening. What they found was that she had thrombosis in her legs, usually caused by cancer somewhere in her body. They immediately put her on blood thinners and then proceeded to run tests. Their hope was that the breast cancer had returned, since that would something that could be treated much easier. Unfortunately, the test results showed that this was not the same cancer. Mom now had liver and pancreatic cancer. She was admitted to the hospital. I took a leave from work to go be with her, because I couldn’t imagine getting through even one day, not knowing what was happening. I needed her and she needed me. Her oncologist was a wonderful man who was very upfront with us. He pulled no punches, nor did he give us false hope. He basically said “You don’t recover from pancreatic cancer. People don’t go into remission. Don’t let anyone tell you any different. She may bounce back, but it won’t be for long. If she does feel better for a while, let her do whatever she wants. Because once she goes back downhill, that’s it. Generally pancreatic cancer patients have about 2-4 months”.

That timeframe sucked all the air out of my lungs. Even though my mom and I had no unfinished business, we were now on a timer, which would run out WAY too soon.

About a week into her stay, her organs started to fail and her doctor said it wasn’t looking good. We had people from her church stop by almost daily and pray for her. I was with her almost 14 hours a day, every single day. Miraculously, she started getting better and was able to go home after only a 2-week stay in the hospital. Once she was back home, I came back to California. She slowly started getting better. She was now on chemo and it seemed to be working. We were all breathing a sigh of relief.

Mom actually started feeling so good, that she and my dad decided to come down to California for Thanksgiving. What a fun time we had! We certainly had a lot to be thankful for. When anyone questioned my mom as to why God would allow this to happen to her, she would instantly scold them “God doesn’t make mistakes!!! This is not a mistake! He knows what He’s doing! I may not like it, but He knows best.”

After they returned back home, she continued to have regular chemo. Since the 2-4 month timeframe had come and gone, it was easy for the rest of us to feel like she might actually be able to beat this. After all, she’d already surpassed what the doctor had told us. Shortly after the New Year in 2007, mom called to say her tests were starting to look worse. The numbers weren’t what they should be. Chemo was going to be increased. She was getting tired more easily again, but still she was hopeful. Then, one day in late April we received the dreaded call. “I have 4-6 weeks to live. Chemo is no longer working. I’m done”.

I have never felt more like my heart was being ripped out of my body, than I did right then. The absolute fear of losing my mom was mind numbing. I told my work that I would be leaving immediately to take care of my mom and that I had no idea when I would be back. Thankfully, I work for an organization that was super supportive.

I flew to Washington to start the waiting game. Mom and I spent every day sitting on the couch, talking, reminiscing, and cuddling. She kept her wall calendar right next to her spot on the couch. Multiple times a day she would pick up the calendar and flip to November. She had two weeks blocked off, right around my birthday. In big red letters it said HAWAII. Yes, we had still been planning our trip and everything was set. If we didn’t take this trip by early December 2007, we would lose the money we spent on our vacation rental.

Every time mom picked up her calendar, she would point to the HAWAII and say “I’m going to miss my trip. I don’t want to miss out on this trip. I need to go on this trip. I want to go to Hawaii!” And I had to keep reminding her of how difficult it would be for me to go on this trip without her. I couldn’t even stand the thought of not having her there. She made me promise not to cancel the trip because of her though. But how could I go? How could I enjoy Hawaii, when her voice would continuously echo in my head “I don’t want to miss out on this trip!”?

The first week after her “countdown” started, each family member made the trip to come and say their goodbyes. Mom was loving it! She got to see the kids and grandkids, all in the span of a week. That hadn’t happened in years!

Then, as each day progressed, my dad seemed to be more and more at a loss. He was watching his soulmate slip away. I know everyone deals differently with this kind of situation. His way was to be absent. I suppose he just couldn’t watch her whither away. He would busy himself in the garden or in the kitchen. I found him spending HOURS locked in their office, looking at pictures on the computer from their 2-month road trip. The pain in his eyes was heartbreaking. This left me to take care of mom. To make sure she got her meds on time, help her to the bathroom, bring her food (even though she usually didn’t have an appetite, when the food got to her), and generally just to be there. We talked and talked and talked. And watched “Everybody Loves Raymond”, her favorite TV show. When we weren’t watching “Raymond”, she wanted to listen to Allen Jackson’s “Precious Memories”. Over and over and over again. About a week and a half after I got there, she said “Please turn the TV off. I can’t keep up with the story line. It’s making me frustrated”. She had seen this show many, many times and her comment was my first glimpse into what was to come. Later, my dad asked her if she wanted to listen to some music. She agreed and he put one of her favorite classical CDs into the player. She came unglued at him “What is this crap??? Why aren’t you playing my favorite songs???” My poor dad. He had no idea what she wanted. We finally figured out that she wanted to continue to listen to “Precious Memories”. So that’s what we did. But I was now seeing a side of my mom that I had never experienced in my life. She was having moments of anger and hostility towards others that I never knew would be possible for her. She had always been everybody’s mom. I’ve never met a person that didn’t fall in love with my mom. Her sweet and funny personality was something that people were drawn towards.

This new side of her was just so out of character.

And as soon as she lashed out, she would apologize and tell us how horrible she felt and that she had no idea why she did or said that.

About a week later, the hospital bed was delivered. Mom was now officially on hospice. She looked at the bed and balked “Psshhhhh! Hospital beds are for sick people!” And then she giggled like a little girl. Crazy woman. We did have a good laugh about that.

She eyeballed that bed for a few hours and then told me “I’m going to try it out. But just TRY it out. Not sleep in it or anything like that”. So I helped her get in and get settled. She was playing with the head and footrest making it go up and down. We had some fun with that. Then she said “Wow, all of this up and down has made me tired. I think I need a nap. But you know, there is no sense in me getting up to go to the couch to nap, when I’m already in a bed. That would be stupid. And I’m not stupid”. So she ended up napping in the bed…then eating (somewhat) in the bed…then spending the night in bed…never to get back out again. The hospice nurse came and put in a catheter, making her trips to the bathroom unnecessary. The days that followed were some of the darkest days I’ve ever experienced in my life. I watched my mom turn into someone I didn’t recognize. For about another week, she was coherent at times, and other times she would make some of the meanest and nastiest remarks I’d ever heard come out of her. She would talk smack about people that I didn’t know she was capable of.

Wow! THIS was not my mom!

(Precious Memories continued to play ALL DAY LONG)

When my son called to check on her he would tell me how much he wanted to be there. I tried to gently tell him that I was making memories that will haunt me for the rest of my life and that he was better off remembering her just as she had always been.

And then she slowly faded away. My job continued to be making sure she had her meds and sitting by her side, just in the off-chance that she would regain consciousness. I knew it wasn’t going to happen, but a girl can dream, can’t she? The only sign of her still being somewhat aware, was when she would start moaning. I would drip pain meds into her mouth and she would settle back down. 16 hours a day I sat there, held her hand, talked to her and assured her that we would take good care of dad. I lost track of how many times I told her I loved her and how terribly I would miss her (I’m bawling my eyes out again as I’m writing this). I talked about the Hawaii trip and that I would think of her each and every day. I promised that I would have fun, since she had been adamant about that.

I read bible verses to her and thanked her for her never-ending prayers that had brought me back to church.

And so it went on and on and on. The hospice nurses were now coming twice a day at this point, always marveling at the fact that she was still hanging on. “Precious Memories” continued to play. My poor dad couldn’t find enough projects to keep him occupied. I lost track of how many times a week he was out on his riding mower, attacking the lawn once again. He was devastated.

Then, 5 weeks after that life-changing phone call my dad came to my bedroom at about 10pm and said “I think this is it”. I could hear her labored breathing as I walked into the living room where her bed was set up. Breathing…if you can call it that. It was more like gasping for air. My dad walked over to the CD player and started playing “Precious Memories”. He wanted that to be the last thing she heard. At 10:50pm on May 18, 2007 she drew her last breath. We waited and waited….would there be one more? Would she open her eyes one last time and acknowledge us? Would she say goodbye?

Nope.

Then my dad looked at me and told me to check if she was gone. He can’t be serious? Can he? I mean, haven’t I done enough? How could he ask me to do that??? But when I saw the heartbreak in his eyes, how could I not?

So I gently picked up her hand, barely skin on bones at that time and tried to find a pulse. There was none. My dad stoically looked at the clock, said 10:50pm and wrote it down on a piece of paper. Then he gently pulled the sheet up over her and asked me to call the hospice service. We sat there, stunned, until the people from the funeral home came to pick her up.

And so, to answer your question “Do I want the chance to say goodbye?”, I say “No thank you”. Had my mom been killed in an accident, I could not have been more shocked than I was when she finally breathed her last. But I do know, from experience, that if you lose a loved one in an accident, that kind of sudden pain puts your body and mind into shock, making it almost easier to bear. Watching a loved one in excruciating pain slowly die in front of you is the single most horrible thing I’ve ever experienced in my life. I had nightmares for MONTHS. Each time my mom was sick and wanted to know why I didn’t care that she was in pain. She wanted to know why I didn’t help her get better. And in every nightmare, she died a slow and painful death.

A part of my heart was ripped out the day my mom died. It will never be replaced. But I’m a better person because of her (at least I hope so). I will be forever grateful for the AMAZING, AWESOME and INCREDIBLE mom she was. She gave me a childhood that many only dream about. She truly was my BFF. Sorry Kristine, but she will hold that #1 title in my life Forever.

Tell the ones you love that you love them…often. Don’t have unfinished business. Treat each day and each parting as if it were the last.

And yes, we did go to Hawaii. My dad couldn’t bear the thought of going, but my husband and I went. We thought of my mom daily and more than once I broke down in tears. But she would have been proud. We went…and we had fun.

~In loving memory~

Hildegard Pohli 12/21/1940 – 5/18/2007

Broken Lives

One might think that today is like any other day. Well, for most of us it will be. But as I drive to work at 5:30am, I listen to the radio and on comes the current traffic report. The announcer goes through his spiel quickly and efficiently, ensuring he gets all of the pertinent information to those of us on the road. This morning, there is a big accident on I-5. Then I hear the word “fatality” and my heart sinks. This happens to me every time I hear about another life lost on the roads. My thoughts instantly go out to the family of the person involved. From now until forever, July 26 is going to be the WORST day of their lives. I wonder, do they know already? Has someone come knocking on their door and given them this life-changing news? And I always find myself sending up a prayer, asking God to give them strength and peace through what will undoubtedly be some of their darkest days. And, as in days past, I know that I will find myself thinking back on this accident for the rest of the day and probably into the days to come. My heart will continue to break for the loved ones that had someone ripped from them in such a tragic way.

May we always remember, that one day we could be the ones on the receiving end of that kind of news.

Be good to each other. Love each other. Tell each other often how you feel and don’t waste a minute of the moments you have with those you care about. Life is too short…much too short for some.