Wisdom of the Ages - Part 5 Life is Amazing and then It’s Awful

“Weeping may endure for a night but joy cometh in the morning.” 

Psalm 30

Your Aunt Ann and I sat in the low couch facing the physician who was taking care of Uncle Max.  He had Max’s chart in his hand and was telling us about all of his medical issues.  Max had now been in a coma for nearly four weeks due to a ruptured aorta (large blood vessel leading to the heart).   As the physician reeled off the medical terms for all of Max’s problems Ann sat sniffling beside me, occasionally heaving great sighs of anguish.  I tried to remain professional and calm to counteract Ann’s panic and angst.  At one point I reassured Ann  “He hasn’t told us anything we didn’t already know Ann.  He’s just using medical terminology for it.  There is nothing new or different.”  Ann nodded trying to hold back her tears.  I asked about his meds, his lab results, his diagnoses and outlook.  It was not good.  He had experienced two strokes and hypoxia (lack of oxygen to the brain) during the surgery to save him from the aortic aneurysm.  They expected him to wake from the coma but did not know what his level of function would be.  I felt my chest tighten.  My sister would be living with this for the rest of her life.  We had lost the Max we knew and loved and had no idea what we would find when he finally woke from his coma.  We went back to Max’s room but I felt that Ann needed a break and decided to take her home.  We stopped at a restaurant to eat some lunch.  While we ate she seemed to calm down but I could see a faraway look in her eyes that scared me.  Every so often in the middle of the conversation her face would screw up in fear and sadness and the tears would flow effortlessly down her cheeks.  Panic would set in as I encouraged her to tell me what had just crossed her mind.  Fear of him never waking, fear of him dying, fear of him being disabled, fear of the cost of his care, fear of being alone the rest of her life, the list went on and on.   Once home I needed some fresh air and exercise so I decided to shovel the walk as it had snowed during the day.  Alone with my thoughts and the zen of shoveling snow I tried to imagine what Ann was currently experiencing.   Her fear and hopelessness was palpable.  After shoveling I reached for the door to let myself in and it was locked.  All of a sudden I had this terrible feeling that Ann might hurt herself.  I rang the doorbell and knocked on the door and there was no answer.  I knocked harder and harder.  I tried the backdoor and still no response.  I returned to the front of the house and as panic rose in my throat I knew I had to get in somehow.  Just as I was looking for something to break the window Ann appeared at the door and opened it for me.  “Sorry Laura, I was downstairs.  I forgot I had locked the door.”  Relief.  

The rest of the week went pretty much the same as I helped Ann deal with the medical profession, talked to her about Max’s health insurance and interpreted test results and medical speak.  Every night Ann would sit in her chair with a glass of wine and crochet like mad.  She was finding her ways to cope.  After about a week I needed to get back home and back to work.  I had to admit I needed a break from being “the strong one” and living with the constant stress and anguish of the situation.   I was emotionally exhausted.  I felt guilty for wanting to escape because Ann didn’t have that choice.  

Now, this is a very sad story.  It’s sad because of the outcome for your Uncle Max but to me what is even sadder is what it did to my sister.  She became a very sad and angry person.  I can’t imagine the enormity of her sadness and anger at the loss of her husband as she knew him and the loss of her future as she had envisioned it.  Shit happens.  We are not guaranteed anything in this life no matter how much we feel we deserve it.  And when shit happens we somehow have to find a way to let go of the anger and the loss and deal with the challenge in a positive manner.  When shit happens, you can either spend your days angry and sad, or you can try to remain upbeat and hopeful.  Either way, you have to live with the situation.   How you respond to it is not going to change it, but it will effect how you live the rest of your life.  Day after day Ann tried in her own way to figure out how to move on.   All of us, Aunt Beth, Uncle Dave and myself tried to be there for her in her darkest times.  Her friends were there for her.  Her anger persisted.  Her sadness was palpable.  I am ashamed to say I quit calling because I found it difficult to continue to bear witness to her angst.  I felt helpless and if I am perfectly honest, inpatient with her inability to move on. I was fearful that she would end up as one of those very bitter, angry, isolated old ladies.  This was so very sad to me and I didn’t know what else to do to help her so unfortunately I pulled away. I took the easy way out. I couldn’t handle the constant reminder that something like this could happen to me. Eventually in her time, Aunt Ann worked through her grief and has taken her life back.   She got help with Max, retired from teaching, sold her house, bought a new one, started taking classes, spends time with friends.  She is laughing again.   She has made the conscious decision NOT to become the bitter, angry, isolated old lady and I am so proud of her.  I have no idea if I would be able to do the same in her circumstances.  

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Brian, Uncle Dave’s best friend from childhood, and I stood at Dave and Donna’s front door.  It was about a week after Alex’s death.  They had gone into the hospital on his due date for what they thought would be the happiest day of their life but instead it was one of the worst when Alex was stillborn.  Dave opened the door and invited us in.  Donna and I went to the baby’s room and sat on the bed as she told me the story of the day she lost her first born son.  We both cried as we fingered the newborn clothes and sat next to the empty crib.  She told me that Pop and I were going to be asked to be Alex’s Godparents.  Donna’s grief and tears tore at my heart as I remembered all of the mothers I had helped with this same grief in my role at Cedar Sinai Medial Center which was to work with parents just like Dave and Donna who had lost babies.  There was little I could do besides listen.  She and Dave were understandably devastated and I knew this loss would be with them their entire life.  

Dave and Donna both went through some difficult times in their grief.  They sought help from counselors, they kept their relationship strong.   And when the pain had dulled just a little, Dave and I were talking.  He told me that before Alex died, when he heard that someone at work had had a bad experience or tragedy in their family he used to think to himself “oh, how sad” but he never took the time to go and talk to that person.  After Alex died he realized how much he appreciated the people who did reach out, who took that moment to come over to his desk and offer their sympathy.  And from then on he did the same.  This is the gift Alex gave to his Dad.  

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As scared as I was for Effie the months she was in the NICU, I was even more concerned about Roge and Jake and how they would deal with the stress of the situation.  Having seen parents go through a baby’s stay in the NICU my first year as a nurse I knew the ups and downs they would go through and the stress they would experience.  I also knew there was very little I could do but be there when they faltered, when they needed a shoulder, a break, a meal, a hug.  I was so impressed with how they dealt with such a difficult situation.  I know they must have had their tears and frustration and anger in the privacy of their home but outwardly they just dealt with it.  They took it one day at a time, one hour at a time, took care of themselves at the same time being there for Effie.  Their friends and families stepped in and provided the support they needed and they accepted help graciously.   When I look back at those three months I don’t look back at them as this horrendous time but rather as an opportunity for grace, courage and determination and a celebration of our strength as a family.  

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I have this memory of a conversation with Grandma many years ago when Pop was first starting out with Industrial Light and Magic.  I don’t remember what the circumstance was exactly but I remember thinking how unfair it was that he did not get “what he deserved.”  I was discussing the situation with Grandma and I said to her “this is so unfair.  He deserves better than this.”  And she laughed, actually laughed and said “Laura, no one deserves anything.”  I was so angry at her, how could she say such a thing?!!  But now I understand.  Most of us are good people trying very hard to live good honest lives.   But there are no guarantees in life.  Shit happens and it happens to everyone.  None of us “deserves” anything bad and conversely none of us “deserves” anything good.  We do the best we can and we deal with both the good and the bad.  If we are really lucky and pay close attention we will learn from our experiences, both good and bad, and embrace the wisdom these experiences offer.

No matter how devastating the experience, there is always some truth you need to pull from that experience.  And that is how I wish to live my life.   I have had the challenges and I have grieved over the losses or been angry over the injustice of it all.  I have my pity party and let me tell you I am very good at those.   But then I pull on my big girl panties and move on.  That’s not to say I get to that point quickly, Lord knows it sometimes takes me longer than usual to get to that “acceptance” part. But now in my later years I have acknowledged that although I can’t always control what happens in my family’s life, I can control how I react to it and what I choose to take away from it.  

Life is amazing.  And then it’s awful.  

And then it’s amazing again.  

And in between the amazing and the awful 

It’s ordinary and mundane and routine.  

Breathe in the amazing,

Hold on through the awful,

And relax and exhale during the ordinary. 

That’s just living — 

heartbreaking, soul-healing, amazing, 

awful, ordinary life. 

And it’s breathtakingly beautiful.

—L.R. Knost—