Tuesday, December 19, 2023

Blood tests and life

 I'm going to keep a few things here to remind Spawn.  She's doing a service mission and sometimes forgets her activities.  Keeping a bit of a record makes sense.

12-18-2023 - Spawn took Chikkin to work and brought her home.  She also made pumpkin muffins almost solo to give to people.

12-19-2023 - Spawn served in the storehouse, as she normally does on Tuesdays.

I'm on vacation, and that's a good thing. Well, kind of.  I'll need to assist for an hour tomorrow and a couple of hours Thursday, but I don't mind.  It's important.

Both Bubbles and I had blood tests yesterday.  The outcomes are no shock. I'm a type II diabetic now, too, which was an inevitable outcome given my weight. It's more incentive to do more of the things we know we should be doing. We both need to get our blood sugar lower, and we can.  We just don't enjoy the process as much as eating whatever we like.

It's odd that I'm so disciplined in so many areas of my life.  I've never been late to work unless it was scheduled time. The one time I thought I'd be late due to a flat tire, I didn't end up late. I am an early to bed and early to rise kind of guy, and I tend to get a walk in every morning.

Food, though, I love it. It's not even sweet stuff.  I don't care much for sugar, but I do care for savory things, and a lot of them. Of course, carbohydrates are just complex sugars, so this doesn't do my blood sugar or weight any good.

If anyone younger ever reads this, I do have some advice I should have followed:  Don't waste your life fat. It restricts movement and makes life less enjoyable overall.  I think I'm the first person in my family to have to confront diabetes, and it's a result of my life choices.  So don't do that. Eat less, move more and enjoy life. 

I'll be taking my own advice on that one.  I still have a few years left, I hope, and I'm going to focus more on making them fun and comfortable.  Doing that should help me live longer, too.  There's too much left to do and explore to waste it on tons of needless calories that'll kill me young.

Sunday, March 19, 2023

A passing and blessings

My Dad passed away Thursday morning.  It had been coming for some time.  On November 29, 2020, he fell and broke his right hip while going to get his mail (mail theft at his apartment complex was happening regularly).  This required surgery.

The surgery went well, but we learned of a host of other problems he was experiencing that he'd done a pretty solid job of keeping quiet.  He had dementia that was more advanced than we realized.  At that point, we thought he'd go to recovery and come back to his apartment with a part-time caregiver.

That was not to be.  By early December it was clear he wasn't going to be returning to an independent living situation.  Bubbles and I cleaned out his apartment in January of 2021 and had the space professionally cleaned so the apartment could be rented out to a new resident.

From there, the decline was pretty steady.  There were calls to calm him down as he felt he was being kept prisoner in the assisted living situation he was in.  Anti-psychotic medications helped calm this down.  He continued to lose his sense of self and memory.

On February 14th, he shifted to hospice care.  We learned what a Kennedy terminal ulcer was.  I had to look it up, as I'd never heard of it before.

I woke up the morning of March 15th and while showering felt some strong promptings.  I do not know how it works for others, but sometimes I know that I will be asked to give a blessing because promptings and sentences start coming into my mind.  This happened as I showered and I knew the blessing was for Dad.  By this time there really wasn't anyone left to talk to.  Dad was just a shell.  But evidently he needed one last blessing, what is sometimes referred to in my faith as "Sealing up to die."  Maybe I needed to give the blessing.

After work that day I put on a tie and went to go bless my father, knowing it would almost certainly be the last time.  I arrived to find him on oxygen, and despite morphine to help, having a bit of trouble breathing (I understand this to be the end of life suffocation reflex), but he was doing it.  Still, the breathing told me something clearly:  he didn't have a lot of time.

I held his hand and talked with him.  I don't believe he could hear, but perhaps his spirit was present.  I read him some scriptures.  

Then I gave him a blessing, and it was so incredibly comforting I was left amazed at Heavenly Father's mercy.  I have only once or twice been inspired to let someone know their sins were forgiven.  To be clear, priesthood holders in my faith can not forgive sins, but God can, and He can let someone know in a blessing, but it is not a common thing.  The repentance process is important, but Dad could not repent any longer.  It was incredibly specific.  He was told that all of his sins were forgiven, all transgressions, sins of omission and that any burden he still felt was lifted from him.  He would stand clean in the presence of his Lord and Savior, who would welcome him home with an embrace.  He was promised that his parents would be waiting for him as well, along with his wife (my Mom).  He was told that he had pleased the Lord with his service, and that the difficult life he's lived, due in part to a brain injury suffered while he was a missionary, was accepted by the Lord.  All injustices and trials of this life would be made up for in the next.  He was encouraged to leave the cares of this life behind and rejoin family on the other side.

It was deeply comforting as well as very painful.When it came time to leave, I let him know I'd see him in a few years.  I e-mailed my brothers and let them know that it was very clearly time, and that I didn't expect him to survive the night, though he had surprised us all before and perhaps would do so again.

There were no surprises this time, though.  Dad passed away at 4:00 AM on March 16th, 2023.  I found out a few hours later.  It was time, and it was right, but emotionally one can never be completely ready for the passing of a parent.     

Friday morning I was in the shower, considering Dad's life and a painful memory came back to me.  Before Dad ended up in assisted living, he sometimes reached out to the Church for help before letting the kids know he would need assistance.  Most local members had no idea he was doing that, or that four of his sons were helping when he let us know there was a need. It was a source of pain for each of us that we had not been able to make the last years our parents spent on earth really comfortable ones.  My Dad had asked his Ward, or church group for help, and as it was discussed in a meeting called Ward Council, one of the members asked (speaking of me), "Why his good-for-nothing son wasn't taking care of him."  It was reported to me by a couple of long-time friends.  I was shocked by it at the time, and deeply hurt.  In part, the hurt was probably in part because I felt keenly my inability to entirely provide for the needs of my parents in their old age.  It was also surprising because having served in many Ward Councils in various callings over the years, I'd never heard anyone speak this way.  Needs were discussed with great compassion and a sincere effort to see how best to meet them and help the person being discussed.

I pondered how I could serve in the temple in the future, particularly a part where members participating are to have good feelings toward one another or to withdraw.  As I considered this I was reminded of the wonderful quotation, "Holding a grudge is like drinking poison and waiting for the other person to die."  I had fallen into a foolish trap of bitterness that was weighing me down.  After all, that ward council member had no way of knowing there were four sons helping my Father with his needs (I was simply the most local) or that we had spent many thousands of dollars trying to help and support him.  He had no way of knowing that Dad sometimes chose to ask for help from the Church before appealing to us.  So, I prayed for relief from this foolish, self-imposed burden and felt the weight of it lift from me.

My dad's passing has come with a lot of pain but also the lifting of many burdens.  I am glad he is at peace and that all he endured in this life is over.  'Till we meet again, Dad.

Tuesday, January 31, 2023

Off She Goes

Spawn did at home/online MTC this past week.  It was a difficult experience.  They have a lot of down time and she used it well, studying and getting ready, but there was still a lot of anticipation anxiety that came with the process.

My coping mechanism has been an excellent form of denial I call "Waiting Mode."  I can sort of put things on hold mentally.  Last night that broke.  She was leaving and there could be no more denial.

I have been a mess ever since.  I truly don't want my child to be gone for a year and a half.  I know this is good and important.  Not only will she serve the Lord, but she'll develop some badly needed skills for an independent life that we've tried to teach, but often don't gel until one has to use them.

So, this is good.  It's also hard.  I'm being a giant baby about it.  One friend pointed out that at least this was happening on good terms (one of their kids just left and it wasn't so nice).  Another friend related that his relative had just sent her only son on a mission and she is a widow.  I don't know how I'd get through this without Bubbles. 

Part of the difficulty is just change.  I don't like change very much.  This is clearly the end of Spawn's childhood and that's hard.  I have no more children to take care of.  On the bright side, I am a very grown up child, but childish nonetheless, so I expect we'll have years of grown up childhood silliness to enjoy in the years to come.


Monday, January 23, 2023

Spawn's Big Adventure

Spawn has decided to be a missionary for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.  It's a pretty big deal.  For the next 18 months (yep, we measure it just like baby age), she will be teaching people about the gospel.  Hopefully a few of them will be interested.

People can tell you it's tough to see your kids leave the nest, but it doesn't fully prepare you for the pure, animal-level emotion that floods you as they begin the process.  She's starting her week of at-home MTC and it already kind of feels like she's gone.

It was hard when she got too grown up to sit on my lap and watch "Survivorman" together as we ate "Survivor snacks" (they were Cheese-its).  It was hard when she drove off to Jr. College the first time and we watched her on Maps to make sure she got there okay.

Change is hard for me.  This one feels like one of those big, permanent things that you don't ever go back to being the same after.  That's probably because that's true.  She will come back far less timid and more independent that ever before.  Parents know that's what kids need, and ultimately it's the whole purpose of raising them:  "Learn to be a person.  Go forth and be amazing."

It doesn't make the letting go any easier.  Intellectually, I know how good and important this is.  Viscerally, all I can feel is that my baby is leaving.