Those of you who read my Facebook or Twitter know that things with the Bear have, once again, gone downhill.
I had no idea how much downhill there could be in one person’s story.
Those of you who have read this blog for a while know that I’ve been posting about the Bear’s health sliding for quite some time. I keep thinking he couldn’t possibly take any more, and then he does. And then the whole thing gets less like a triumph of modern medicine, and more like some evil Frankensteinian sideshow.
To cut to the chase; at this point, he can’t walk, he’s hallucinating, he’s incontinent, he’s on between 15 and 20 medications at all times, he isn’t eating, and about half the time he can’t remember who my mother is.
Several months ago, when we were out there visiting, he sat there and told me that he had no reason to live. Surrounded by me, his grandchildren, and his wife of 30+ years, he just cut loose with that particular bomb. He went on to talk about how all his pleasures were gone, and really, there was just nothing left for him at all. And considering what he was overlooking, I heartily agreed with him.
And yet, he keeps fighting. Because fear is a powerful motivator. He is terrified of death.
Years ago, when this whole medical debacle first started, some idiot gave him morphine, which he is allergic to, and he spent three solid days hallucinating. And what he hallucinated was standing at the gates to hell. Because of that, he is trying to put off dying as long as he possibly can.
Personally, I don’t believe in hell. And up until that morphine, the Bear didn’t either. He was completely atheistic, to the point that one of my childhood memories is the train of local ministers who brought their students to the house, to try to “crack” the hard nut of the Bear’s lack of faith. It was a challenge, he was a teaching opportunity for every theist for miles around. He laughed at them all.
I have a Buddhist friend who also believes that there is no afterlife of any kind. To her, death is just the end of suffering. I’ve tried reminding the Bear that he used to believe that. It does no good. But then again, he spend most of his life telling everyone that he didn’t need to take care of himself, because when the wheels started falling off the wagon, he was just going to end it, without all this namby-pamby medical interference. He scoffed at people who received heroic measures to maintain life.
The Old Testament doesn’t have a hell. Hell is a New Testament creation, designed to frighten people into behaving well. But what happens at the ugly conflation point, where hell wasn’t scary enough to help someone lead a less hateful and chaotic life, but is so scary that they then cannot allow themselves to die? What happens to your soul when all your life you have criticized a set of choices, and now find yourself in the middle of them? What happens to your body when you can’t let yourself live because you’ve ruined your body, but you can’t let yourself die because you think there’s some great punishment coming for the rotten choices you’ve made?
This is why Purgatory is far more frightening than any other option. This inability to move forward in any way.
Ironically, I know a man who researched NDEs, Near Death Experiences. It’s his contention that the problem with people who fear hell, fear death, is that all they have to do is go backwards, into acceptance and forgiveness, in order to get out of the increasingly ugly path of Purgatory. I’ve talked to the Bear about that too, but that’s not an option either.
He can’t move forward. He won’t go back. He isn’t living, but he can’t die.
My mother… that’s her tale to tell, not mine. But I know that I’m exhausted from the strain of being ready to come help, and the waiting is agonizing. I can’t imagine how much worse it is right there at Ground Zero.
I have no idea how much more his body can take. I have no idea how much more my mother’s soul can take. I’ve personally done everything I can think of to do practical, useful things, and in the meantime, play with my children, love my husband, and take joy in what’s around me. Yesterday, I spent most of the day at the garden with the kids, painting tires beautiful colors, and smiling at dandelions. It’s not quite enough, but it’s a start. I imagine most of the real emotional work of this Last Great Act of Chaos and Mayhem on the Bear’s part is going to suck us all as dry as we let it, and I’m trying hard not to feel like I’m somehow evil for not letting myself slide into being wrought.
It’s not over yet. I have no idea how far from over it really is. With the miracle of modern medicine (snort), they could keep his body animated for quite some time. I am breathing, and distancing, and hoping that when it’s my time, I make choices that do not agonize everyone who has to be around me.
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My father was like this as well. He lived life to the fullest, though very il, until the moment he got scared and then he stopped living, but somehow continued to live for many years aided by medicine, doctors, and odd surgeries.
So strange, in hindsight, to think of all the years he was sick and all the times we, his family, tried to hold him back–begging him to slow down, to take better care of himself. When he finally took us seriously, took the threat of death seriously, he became a miserable shell of a person. He didn’t slow down, he simply stopped, so deer-struck by the face of death. I wish he had died in the midst of living instead of the horrible death he suffered from dying.
Throughout my dad’s life he had been an agnostic who was never brave enough to become the athiest he wished to be. I’m not an atheist–quite the quiet Jesus believer I am– but toward the end of my dad’s life I wished he would become an antheist just for the peace it might bring him.
Was that too confusing to understand? My dad died 7 years ago and I think that I have just begun, this year, to see through the fog of his dying. So I get you dude, I do, but have no words to help you.
Hugs to you and long distance understanding. And like you I have no earthly idea how our mothers cope. But then I think that is an ageless refrain.
Sigh…
Life is a challenge, as is facing death…
“Tired of living, afraid to die”…Rolling Stones
I wish you and Bear the best.
My youngest brother is also in a nursing home, can not walk, can barely see, 3 times a week on the blood machine…
All we can do is enjoy the good times, to have strength for the bad.
_/|\_
Speaking of theology… you might (at some point.. not now, obvee! other things are a priority) want to revisit what you think you believe about purgatory (not that you believe in it anyway but ykwim). But it is NOT a place of being stuck.. it is a place of purification (purging), getting rid of the old, cleansing oneself before entering the sacred temple, moving forwards towards heaven. There is no “down staircase” in purgatory, only an “up and out”. Not that any of this matters if you reject the whole concept to begin with, but I wanted to at least add that thought of clarification.
huge hugs to you. You know you’re constantly in my thoughts right now.
I have nothing to contribute except our sympathies for you. Take care of yourself and your lovely children!
This is one of those times when I really don’t know what to say. Yes, I have been following Bear’s story for a while, but I didn’t realise quite how agonising this whole ordeal has been for all of you. It certainly puts certain things into perspective for me.
All I can (continue to) offer are my thoughts, prayers and hugs from all the way over here.
FWIW, re “I’m trying hard not to feel like I’m somehow evil for not letting myself slide into being wrought.” There’s nothing evil about protecting yourself and your family, and staying as strong as you feel able. If you *can* keep going, you may find yourself being relied on. You may find that’s what you’re meant to do this time. I only worry that, by *not* letting yourself “slide”, you might be putting too much pressure on yourself (hmmm, getting a flashback to you saying something similar to me!), but you’re certainly not being “evil”. I think you already know that, but I just wanted to make sure.
IME, it’s *after*, when things aren’t critical and when you have room to breathe, *that’s* when I’ve found it’s harder to keep that strength. While you *have to*, you do. Ironically, most people on the “outside” don’t understand that: they expect you to collapse while you’re in it, and then they all go away when the fuss is over – and that’s when you need them to stay.
Hmmm, for not knowing what to say, I’ve certainly rambled on. Sorry ’bout that. I’m holding you all in my thoughts, and hoping like crazy that you all can find the peace you need.
Hugs hugs hugs…
The book of Jeremiah tells us : I know the thoughts that I have towards you, saith the Lord, thoughts of peace, and not of evil, to give you an expected end. You can not understand his torrment if you dont believe there is a hell. Call on a friend that can pull him away from that horrible place. You mentioned that you have Christian friends. Offer him Christ again. He is the peace that passes understanding. It is never too late to believe.
Hell is mentioned three times in my Bible concordance( which is just a small concordance) in the old testament. One verse in Isaiah refers to hell enlarging itself. Please Laureen dont you have one person that knows Christ that could offer your Bear hope?
I will pray that the Lord sends someone, or Himself to appear in a vision that brings Peace. I wish I was closer but I am in NJ . I would hold his hand and sing to him and pray over him. I found the savior in the book of John. You could read him that. I am praying for you at this difficult time.
Just wanted to mention that there is a Jewish concept of hell that predates Christianity. My Christian friends tell me it’s more like what Christians would refer to as purgatory (but not as you describe it, a stuck place). It’s not forever; it lasts just as long as you need then you go to heaven. For some people it would be (well-deserved) punishment. But I can see it as being a much-needed way to make peace with the poor choices of your life. Something we’ve all done, we all have wrongs to atone for.
Obviously I don’t think your stepfather needs Jesus, but I don’t think he needs God either. I hope he can make some peace with dying and that he can approach it, if not with no fear, then at least as something he can handle. Whether with religion or not, or with belief in an afterlife or not, doesn’t matter.
Unfortunately, his state of mind now is so awful that he may never be able to do this. If that turns out to be the case, hopefully he is lost enough to forget his fears and give himself over to whatever will come.
[...] Back in February, I blogged about Keith Olbermann, who did basically the same thing as Walt has been doing. Over the last few years, I’ve blogged about the Bear, his interactions with the medical system, and his long battle to die. [...]