Monday, August 20, 2007

Blank

So my Pawpaw (Mom's Dad) had a heart attack last week and had a quad bypass a few days ago. Mom and Joey took off for Ohio (where Pawpaw lives) the day of his surgery and will be staying up there until who knows when. There's a lot of uncertainty right now. Everyone's talking about survival percentages, recovery times, and quality of life. Someone mentioned that if he makes it through recovery the surgery should buy him at least 12 months.

12 months.

Man, when I was a kid a year was such a LONG time, but now, it's just not. Why is it that as we age each year seems to be shorter than the next? Perspective perhaps? Who the hell knows.

Part of me is really optimistic about the entire situation. Two years ago Pawpaw was diagnosed with advanced prostate cancer and given an iffy prognosis, but after a thorough course of treatment, he beat the cancer and kept on keeping on. Who knows? He might whip this heart problem, too, and live another 5-10 years.

It may sound odd, but I've never had a relative who passed with advanced warning. What I mean is that all of my relatives who have checked out of this realm went suddenly. In Apa's case, we visited him at the hospital the night prior to his death. He was laughing and telling jokes and seemed ready to be discharged--but then Dad got an early morning phone call. He took off immediately, but by the time Mom, Joey, Marcos, Tricia, and I got there, he was gone. Mawmaw went the same way. She made phone calls that afternoon, talked to everyone, and then--wham!--that evening she had a massive heart attack and passed.

Some people say that being able to prepare for an impending death is easier than suddenly losing someone and having to process all of those conflicting emotions at once. I don't know. I think maybe I prefer the sudden death bit. I did a little Hospice work that summer between graduating and beginning college, and I have to say that watching a loved one languish and waste away didn't seem to make the passing any less painful for the families involved.

Anywho. Moving away from the depressing subject now...

I've been getting tons of emails and messages from people asking when I was going to update the blog (for some reason I have a huge readership via Myspace, 791 hits last week/post.) Now you all know why. I've tried to write a post, but I just had this huge blank. It's coming back to me now, though.

That's all for today. Tomorrow I'll fill everyone in on a recent career move that I think help steer my writing in the right direction.

1 comment:

As You Wish said...

Maria,

My grandfather was opening the mail with a pocketknife when he was struck by a sudden and severe heart attack. On the way to the floor, he hit his head on the counter. My grandmother found him when she got home, but couldn't bear to call the morgue. The paramedics comforted her by telling her that since the head wound wasn't bleeding, he died before he hit the floor. Quick. Painless.

After that, my dad always said, "When it's my time, I want to go just like my dad did." In a way he did. He died about 30 years younger than his father, but went swiftly as he napped in his recliner...on one of the happiest days of his life.

In hindsight, we all should have known. There were dozens of signs in the days preceding his death. I wish we'd not been blind to them as a little potassium or aspirin might have saved his life.

It's been hard on us all. I still miss him terribly (he's been gone since March of 2002). But, I take some comfort knowing that he died the way he wanted to and that he never saw it coming.

All that being said, I think the pain has the same severity. It might be a different kind of pain and we might be able to deal differently in the "know" vs. "not know" situations, but both are equally difficult.

my thoughts are with you,
Lori