BMT Day +199 Teri’s transition

Teri’s transition

By now, many of you know.

Our Teri died shortly before 2 am this morning in her own bed, in her special condo, on her own terms. 

She was not conscious and not in pain.  She tried to get a drink but spilled it on her self.  I had planned to stay up repeatedly the last three nights, but she seemed to stabilize her breathing pattern, so I tried to sleep. 

Beforehand, I have a long talk to her.  Then, I fall asleep.  Thinking that she would hold on until Ben returned this evening.  Mostly we have said what needed to be said at a time when she was responsive.

Rachel and I together and separately touch her and stroke her body gently.  We also hold each other.  We know it is the inexorable outcome but still cannot believe it has come to be. 

The hospice nurse comes to pronounce her and the funeral home arrives afterwards to remove her body.  I walk with her enshrouded body to their vehicle.

Before they leave, they make the bed as if to remove all impressions of her bed bound form.  It shocks me and seems to instantaneously erase the hospital environment that I’ve gotten so accustomed to.  But then the wheel chair, commode, medications, dressing supplies … are still in evidence.

It is empty without her.

She is at peace.  She is no longer suffering.  She has gone to a good place.

We are not ready.

Two pictures

Rachel picked out two pictures of her mother that we want to leave you with. 

The first is a pre-leukemia picture, taken at Rachel's wedding two months before she was diagnosed, and is the most recent photo from her well period,  It depicts her penchant for spontaneous fun where she was showing how to juggle three clementines at once.  She then got us all to play roulette together as a family and we beat the house!

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The second is a post-leukemia photograph taken at Rachel and John’s place in Columbus, after achieving her second remission, a mere 10 aays or so before her transplant.  It shows her feeling good, acting herself, full of positive energy, and holding her beloved Jack who was #1 on her hit parade.

At some point, for those who could not attend the A-wake, we would like to create a photomontage of Teri’s life.

I call many family and friends.  Many call me.  I choke up repeatedly.  I tell my father who was very philosophical and says, “We are alone.”  Which is not true true, we have Jack …

I exercise briefly.

I drive to the funeral home and sign papers for her cremation.

Rachel, John, Jack and I go for a long walk on the River Walk along the Milwaukee River.

Rachel and I sort and organize five large bags of unused medical supplies, from depends, drugs, IV supplies, dressings, wraps … trying to find homes for these extras.  We return the oxygen generator, oxygen tank, IV pump, wheel chair, and commode to the supplier.

Ben arrives home.  He is doing OK.

Manu and Anjali bring an Indian supper of lentils, paneer, shrimp and cucumber/yogurt.  We have rhubarb-strawberry pie, Teri’s favorite, with vanilla ice cream. 

Raindrops from Teri

You may think I’m nuts.

After a short sleep I awake to find the sun bright in the east, the skies a deep hue of blue with a few scattered clouds, none overhead. 

All of a sudden, I felt sprinkling.  It continues.  I look for someone watering flowers on the balcony above me.  No one.

Teri and I are crazy about water, swimming in it every day in Columbus, living adjacent to the Milwaukee River, and snorkeling in it wherever possible in Caribbean locales. 

I believe Teri is sprinkling droplets on me to let me know she is up there, doing all right. 

It reminds me a little bit of Black Elk, the Ogala Sioux holy man, who summons a solitary rain cloud to drench him as he speaks to the heavens.  Not exactly, but good enough for me.