Another Death In The Family

Tonight I received word that my Aunt Kay has passed away.

I don't know any of the details.  She hasn't been well for quite some time.  The last time she posted anything on Facebook, she thought that she was talking to my father.  Still, she was a decent and loving person, and will be missed.

Kay (Katherine May Payton) moved into an apartment before I reached my teen years.  She used to let my sister and me spend alternating weekends with her.  I think, looking back, that maybe these visits were her mother's idea, so that she wouldn't be out partying with her friends all the time.  If that was the plan, it backfired badly.  Kay turned Granny's little spies into her co-conspirators by bringing whichever kid she happened to be stuck with along for the ride.  Well, that's how it worked for me, anyway.  I can't speak for my sister's experience. 

I consumed my first mixed drinks at Kay's apartment.  I also had my first experience with weekly cleaning chores.  She never treated me like a child, even though I was one, and never excluded me.  What little social skills I gained during those years, was probably thanks to her.

Kay loved life, and I'm glad she made a family for herself.  I regret ever losing touch with her.

Not Medically Necessary

Today Robin received a letter from United Health Care stating that the insurance claim for her recent hospital admission was denied.

"The clinical reason for our determination is: Your doctor admitted you to the hospital on 6/26/19.  You had trouble breathing. We reviewed the medical information made available to us. We reviewed the health plan's criteria for admission to the hospital. We have determined that this stay does mot meet those criteria. The reason is that  you were stable. Your breathing got better. You did not have pneumonia. Your heart was not getting worse. You could have received the care you needed in an observation level at the hospital. Your admission is not covered. Observation may be covered for the admission beginning 6/26/19 in this case, if ordered by your doctor."

I've called the hospital.  The nice lady in billing says that they have these battles all the time and of course they automatically appeal rejections.  Call back in a week if there are any problems.

The goddamned audacity.  "Your breathing got better."  When I am sitting here crying over her box of ashes.

Still Not Sleeping

I've spent the last few months taking care of her needs, as she became increasingly ill, and less able to take care of herself.  The last month, she couldn't even sleep in her own bed, finding that the recliner was easier to breathe in.

With Arthur (Spooky) taking a shift overnight, I'd get between four and six hours bed rest, and nap on the couch between doing whatever she needed.  When he couldn't be there, which was rare, I'd just sleep on the couch the whole night.

When she entered the hospital for the last time, four hours became nearly the maximum I could manage.

Now that I have no demands on my time, not even work, I still can't sleep more than five hours a night.  I may fall asleep in my chair, fitfully, when I can't keep myself occupied.  Doing stuff helps, for a little while, but then I reach a point where I feel too empty to work and come back to my chair, with this screen waiting, and her journals.

Last night I did dream, but I don't remember what it was.

This can't be healthy.

Arrangements

The kids and I arranged for cremation today.  We chose the Arbor Society; they don't have a hard sell, and there were no surprise charges. 

We have decided to postpone any sort of memorial for much later.  Maybe around her birthday.  And it shall be invitation only. 

For the immediate family, I'm purchasing glass pendants with an owl emblem, to be infused with some of her remains.  The picture looks beautiful, almost like her "Tondo Ule" etching.  It shall be engraved with:

I Am

RLP

61-19

Three days in.  I'm not weeping quite so hard, but the sadness still comes in waves that I cannot predict.  

I've found a few more of her journals.  She had a habit of starting them, but then leaving most of the pages blank.  Were they mislaid?  Not sure.  Everything is cluttered, so maybe.  The poetry book / memory book projects will certainly take a long time to finish.

Tomorrow we attend a family counselling session.

Things I've Noticed

I promised her that I would outlive her, because she knew long ago that she couldn't bear it if she lost me.  I thought I could handle it better.  I was wrong.  I don't regret not making her go through what I'm feeling.

I do regret that she had to suffer.  I regret she had to go in a hospital, surrounded by strangers.  I was in the room, but several feet away, because they were trying to save her life, and the best thing I could do was stay out of it, not interfere, and stare in horror as they pushed her into the bed, over and over.

The sadness comes in waves.  My daughter pointed this out, and I had to agree.  I can be fine for a while, and some stupid thing sets me off.  Like seeing the lidded tumbler that she used for a waterglass for the last month, so she could reach it in bed and not spill it.

I put on one of her old, pitted rings this morning, and then without thinking, I went out back to put the seat of the van back in -- I'd removed it a couple of weeks ago in case I had to get her to a doctor's appointment in her brand-new wheelchair.  But I forgot to remove the ring, and now it's lost.

My brain used to play tricks on me with sound.  I'd hear her calling my name, when she'd done no such thing.  I figured this would continue.  So far, it hasn't.

The light by her chair came unplugged last night.  It used to do that all the time, because the plug was loose in the extension.  Thing is, I didn't notice until this morning.  I had to get it turned back on.  Then I had to re-set her clock, which is on the same cord, even though the only reason that clock was over there was so that she could see what time it was.  She couldn't see well since she fell on April 10.

We had installed two toilet seat risers, and a safety frame, so she could get up by herself.  I took them down, and now it seems way too low.

I'm forgetting to take my meds, because I was timing them from having to prepare hers.

I alternate between wanting everything gone, and wanting nothing to change.

When does this get easier?

She's Gone

Early July 5, I lost my love and best friend of 39 years.

Mother of our children - both the two born to us, and the next generation, and everyone she "adopted." She was kind and generous to a fault. Complete strangers who admired a crochet project would sometimes find themselves the new owner of that same scarf, hat, or baby blanket. Neighborhood children knew her as "the book lady" at Halloween.

Constant companion and confidant - we rarely chose to do anything apart from one another. She shared all my secrets, goals, dreams, and helped me achieve many of the same.

Creative and intelligent - she mastered many crafts, played many musical instruments, and wrote beautifully. She inspired our son to music, our daughter to art, and me to be a better writer. She ran most of our family games.

A tough advocate - she would fight for those she loved. Though she lost her last fight, she never surrendered. May she find peace, if that is what she seeks, or at least a worthy adventure.

Robin, you left a hole in my life and my heart that I don't know can ever be filled again. I don't know that I would ever want to.

Her path went higher than the summit,
And she is one with the gods today.

https://pluckingmyself.blogspot.com/2010/08/quill-27-mountain-song-1991.html