In August, my friend Travis and I went fishing in Sitka, Alaska. The weather cooperated as did the fishes – mucho salmon, rock fish, and halibut. We also harvested a cooler full of shrimp using “shrimp pots”. The ling cod managed to measure too big or too small to take legally.
The trip was tempered by the news Mom had suffered a stroke. She passed away on September 1 in her 97th year.
The trip was tempered by the news Mom had suffered a stroke. She passed away on September 1 in her 97th year.
Everyone seemed to recall signs she gave that the end was near. When saying goodbye to grandson Art’s family a month ago, she was exceptionally praising of how good he has done in his teaching/coaching career and sent him off bidding him to do well in life. Granddaughter Helen noticed that when saying her goodbyes / we’ll meet again, she would cross her fingers. A couple days before the stroke, she had told Dix in a long telephone conversation that she was “tired”. The day before, next door neighbor Mike was concerned that she had difficulty raising her arm when she gave him the key to get her mail downstairs. When asked if she was ok, she characteristically told him, “I’m fine, … these aches and pains come and go.” Her poor heart was giving out.
Her last sayings were classic. In the hospital she had a catheter. Repeated assurances did not convince her that she would not wet the bed, so she pleaded with Don to get her to the bathroom. Don could only offer that the doctor said she had to stay in bed. She looked at him soulfully and said “You could be doing more...” How comically ironic for Don, who has been her guardian angel for the last 14 years.
Helen chided a nurse who was clumsily feeding her. Mom said “I learned how to feed someone” apparently relating to how she had to feed Dad after he had his stroke 20 years ago. …or was she commiserating with the nurse. Helen was not easy on the staff.
She became self aware of her critical condition from a doctor’s comments. “I had a stroke? Oh. I was hoping it wouldn’t be like this.” She never wanted to be a burden.
When they told her I was in Alaska, she said to bring home some salmon. My latest letter arrived when she was in the hospital. Helen said she held onto the letter to examine the picture inserts. I put off going until it was clearly inevitable. I told her by phone I was on my way, not to be afraid. It was a one way conversation. I arrived in time to hold her hand and stroke her forehead.
Her last sayings were classic. In the hospital she had a catheter. Repeated assurances did not convince her that she would not wet the bed, so she pleaded with Don to get her to the bathroom. Don could only offer that the doctor said she had to stay in bed. She looked at him soulfully and said “You could be doing more...” How comically ironic for Don, who has been her guardian angel for the last 14 years.
Helen chided a nurse who was clumsily feeding her. Mom said “I learned how to feed someone” apparently relating to how she had to feed Dad after he had his stroke 20 years ago. …or was she commiserating with the nurse. Helen was not easy on the staff.
She became self aware of her critical condition from a doctor’s comments. “I had a stroke? Oh. I was hoping it wouldn’t be like this.” She never wanted to be a burden.
When they told her I was in Alaska, she said to bring home some salmon. My latest letter arrived when she was in the hospital. Helen said she held onto the letter to examine the picture inserts. I put off going until it was clearly inevitable. I told her by phone I was on my way, not to be afraid. It was a one way conversation. I arrived in time to hold her hand and stroke her forehead.
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