Why is it, that I can successfully manage to bring a litter of neglected kittens back from near death. Swiftly administering subcu fluids, dosing the little ones if needed and bottle-feeding them all on little to no sleep, but when my husband goes into crisis like he did last night, I panic and spill the morphine all over the floor?

Mike’s mass (now a tumor) seems to have a mind of its own and it is spreading. The fear is that now the tumor has become lodged into his kidneys and this stage of the game, there is nothing anyone can do about it except manage his pain.

Last night was intolerable for him. He was screaming so loud in pain that I thought the neighbors might call the police. Instead I called Hospice and they gave me some alternative meds to use until they could get him another prescription of morphine this morning. Because the pain has intensified, he now has morphine pills and drops to put under his tongue. I am told this will help the massive pain.

I finally managed to get about four hours of sleep before it started all over again. I was using rolls of ace bandages put underneath his pannis (the loose fold of skin right over his groin) to take the pressure off and stop the catheter from becoming blocked. Apparently too part of the problem is every time Mike lifts this mass up to try and find relief from the pain, he is scarring his kidneys and causing more blood to enter his urinary tract. He is passing clots now through the tube.

Not an easy path for us both, and I have to wonder if these respite visits might be harming him rather than helping me. This is the second time he has gone into crisis mode the day after he arrives home from Hospice House.

I heard him on the phone yesterday, calling old friends and telling them )”I’m on Hospice care, but don’t worry, I am just fine!” I think he left several of them behind scratching their heads and wondering just how “fine” he really can be.

We are so out of wet food  right now, and with the temperature dropping into the twenties and below, one way the cats outside stay warm is by eating heated cat food. If you feel led to put some monies into the Kitty through Paypal or order canned Friskies for the remaining 15 cats who call this sanctuary home, we would be grateful- overly so-

Reed came to us as a victim of Hartz Flea Products that you buy over the counter. It took a lot of TLC to turn around the damage done to this poor boy by a well-meaning owner. But he has far exceeded his original timeline the vets gave him. (7 months if that). That was 8 years ago.

Here he is fleshed-out and healthy and beautiful and ready for his forever home. He was found yesterday, sleeping on the roof where he loved to hang out, in his final sleep. He defied all the odds and survived massive poisoning from a product that was supposed to help cats not harm them.

My heart goes out to all of you caught in the middle of this crazy weather slamming down. Yesterday, it poured buckets here and as my friend Haley was driving me to an appointment to pay end of life expenses for Mike and make said arrangements, the rain was so hard we could hardly see ahead of us on the I-5. I had been kept fairly busy in the morning with Mike. He is throwing things now. Nothing heavy, just stuff off his bedside table. I know it is not him per se but the situation that is unbalancing him, and it wasn’t until I was at the crematorium that I learned of the 25 plus earthquakes that hit Alaska.

The gentleman was kind enough to stop the procedure of form signing so I could check on the kids, and the grandkids to see if they are all okay. Dave (my oldest stepson) and his wife Elaine had left from Oregon to board a cruise ship to Hawaii, so their three kids were alone when it hit. They are all adults, but they are still scared as everything on their walls are now on the floor both in the house and in the cabins on the lower property. Everybody else is safe but shaken. Hoping the worst is over for them. They have enough on their hearts right now.

The living room is now cluttered, (not with cats 🙂 But with medical equipment. His desk and computer have been dissembled and is sitting in small piles on the porch. There is an oxygen machine, a nebulizer, a bedside commode, a privacy curtain along with a new bariatric hospital bed, trapeze and bedside table. His lift chair has also been moved to make room for the moment when they have to come in and help him when I no longer can. I have tried to sleep in my recliner next to him, but he is having loud conversations now with people and animals long passed. These conversations allow the tears I have been holding back to flow and this drains my soul. I now sleep in the bedroom- Kota right by my side, Molly on my feet and Pigeon and PITA sprawled out the side of me. Thank God for a California King bed!

If he calls to me at night- Kota nudges me and we fly into the room together. Kota will go to his side and nudge his hand, and I will tend to his needs of the moment whatever they may be. I have gone from being a wife to the role of being a full-time caregiver with relief coming three times a week in the order of nurses, bed buddies (they give the baths) the social worker or the pastor. I take that time to just grab up Kota and go for a walk along the lake or to the Cascade trails which are looking quite barren these days as they are cutting down the once mighty trees and carting them off. We choose the lake these days.

I don’t like to go out in public. This is a small town and invariably, I will run into someone I know. News travels fast, and the first question they usually ask is “How is Mike doing?”

How is he doing? He is lying in bed, having conversations with dead people, his eyes when they are opened are almost rolled over to the back of his head which is, I am sorry to say, quite creepy. They say it is part of “The Process.” The process, the fight or flight when one individual is caught between two worlds, the physical world and the spiritual one. I take solace in God’s word these days. I drove by a church a few weeks ago, and the slogan on their front board said “Don’t tell me God is silent, if your Bible is closed.” That convicted me and I went home and prayed and opened the Bible and found my center and the strength to get through yet another day.

He calls me Ashley now. That is not an old flame of his, it is the name of one of our fifteen grandchildren. She has reached out to us in this time period and has called him faithfully almost daily. His youngest son is still trying to stay in touch with his dad regularly. The others call when they have 5 minutes to spare on their way to work or back. Each of us trying to find a good balance to keep him in our lives just a little bit longer.

I now understand that Kota is in our lives, not to be his service dog, but to be my comfort. I am keeping up with his training, he goes everywhere with me, because Mike is no longer fully aware of Kota and if I left him at home, there is no telling what would happen. Mike can’t see to his own basic needs at this time, let alone the needs of Kota.

I had to laugh yesterday when I was in Safeway. Kota was lying down on the floor by the grocery cart in the checkout line. Every time the line moved, he would move with me, lie down and wait. A lady behind me commented that she saw a “service dog” in Walmart the other day, peeing on the produce! LOL I told her service dogs, do not pee on produce, ride in grocery carts and poop in the aisles! We all laughed and then the gentleman behind her told me “This is the first service dog I have seen in a long time that LOOKS and acts like a service dog!” I am proud of Kota. He is so easy to train- and loves to be challenged. I’m not taking him to classes for service dog training- not only is the money for these classes ridiculously high, but they want time commitments as well. I have no time, because my husband is running out of time. I am training Kota myself and he has not disappointed me yet. When the time comes to put him through the one class where he can be certified as a service dog, we will go and he will get his photo taken, get his special vest and he will be my service dog till the day he dies. But that day is long down the road we are traveling at this point.

But in the meantime, I will continue to try and keep it together as I watch “The Process” take away the man I have spent half my life with and who has shared with me many adventures, laughs and memories. A man I love with all my heart and who I will miss till the end of MY days.

benevity.com on Nov 27 will be sending $10.00 for every retweet of their special video to your choice of a charity. There is a list of their charities, but as I am skimming the rules, I see that the charity has to be a 501(c)3 which we are. We are not on their list, but perhaps you could request us anyway if you want to participate? The rules and regs are on their website..  www.benevity.com

Someone asked me to post this:

Our Vet:

Faithful Friends Animal Clinic
185 North Santiam Hwy
Lebanon OR 97355
541-451-1319

Current balance $2,031.14

Pigeon’s special food
Royal Canin Vet wet food
CC High Fiber Formula Cat Food comes in dry as well
6 oz. case $40.99

I need to breathe, but I also need to go on Chewy and set up an account for this food because it is prescription. It has to go through the clinic first when it is ordered before they will ship it. So I have to figure that out.

Molly, Bless her pea-picken heart, will not leave me alone. She will follow me from room-to-room. When I do manage to sit down, she jumps up on my chest and climbs right up and keeps licking the tip of my nose. This morning, I was in the shower and she climbed right in while the water was running! LOL I don’t think she will do that again! She is on my lap in this moment chasing my fingers across the keyboard.

Pigeon, since his introduction into our home has always laid on my chest at night and wrapped his paws around my neck purring me to sleep. He is still doing this with a bit of a remarkable change. Generally, his paws are loosely wrapped about my neck and he is settled on my chest. But recently, his paws are clinging to my neck and his head is right by my chin. I’m breathing in cat fur and I feel like I am the one choking and I have to move him back off a bit. A cat sitting or laying on your throat does not feel very comforting. LOL

Kota has been remarkable. I don’t think I have uttered one command to him about what he should do: sit, wait, back, down. He’s just doing it. The other night at the Hospice House, Kota encountered Bear. Bear is this little tiny fuzzy mix of if I would guess, I would say Silkie, miniature poodle, chihuahua, and Scottish terrier in minature. He was decked out in the loudly colored Christmas sweater. What a doll-baby he is. Kota saw him coming down the hall and I thought “Uh oh, here we go.” Normally, Kota would be all over him, but instead, he whined, his tail was flying, but he laid down right next to my legs. I was looking at him thinking “Who are you and what did you do to my dog?”  Bear was on a flex leash and he came up to me, stopped and sat up begging. Brian (his owner an elderly man) stepped into view and said “You must have dog biscuits?”

I did, I had a pocket full of Kota’s favorites. I asked if I could give him one, but Brian said, “Let’s let the two meet first, shall we?” I looked down at Kota, who was still on the down. Tail just whirling, heavy excited panting, body quivering. I knew he wanted to play so badly. But he stayed right where he was at as Bear sniffed him head to toe.Kota was trying to keep track of where Bear was at all time, and his head was twisting and turning and he was looking at me like, MOM! Please?” At one point, Bear put his paw on Kota’s massive shoulder and leaped over him to the other side. LOL  Finally, I told Kota he could get up and they sniffed noses and were fast friends.

He lays in Mike’s room when we get there and if a nurse or aide comes in, he slides under the bed to get out of the way- Mike’s bed is cranked way off the ground. Or, he will go into the bathroom and block the door. Driving, I will start to talk to God and before I know it, I have a very large black german shepherd in my face licking away my tears. He could have been way in the back of the truck looking out the window or sleeping- but the minute I give in to the emotions of the moment, there he is. I have to tell him to get back- he ain’t a lap dog! He currently weighs 95 pounds!

Speaking of weight, thanks in large part to that mass. Mike is now not eligible for any Body Donor Program in Oregon. The students need to be able to work with the body, moving it about and that isn’t going to be possible anymore.

So I had to find a Plan B and Friday next week, I am going to Salem to sign papers and fill out forms to have him cremated. I will request his ashes be shipped to Dave (Mike’s oldest) Dave lives in Anchorage. Doug, Mo, and LaVern are also there. Mike has a spot next to his dad in Newport, Oregon, but he is agreeable with my thinking that it makes no sense (in my mind at least) to bury him up there, when the family when it does get together, generally they are all in Alaska. I don’t need a urn of ashes or a gravestone to remember Mike. I will never forget him.

I don’t want, in the future, the family to get together in Alaska and then have to plan on another expense of going to Oregon to visit their father. That’s just not how I think. They are going to spread his ashes on Hidden Lake, which is the site of our first date. I believe he even gave Doug (the skipper of the family) close coordinates to the spot where I caught the first fish of the day a 24″ rainbow trout! 🙂

Mike is declining rapidly. He has been home three days and has 7 “events” (these happen only at night). All of his kids, his ex-wife, daughter in law are here and have been for two days. Goodbyes have been said, cleansing talks have occurred tears have shed and will continue to be shed for many days- but closure is happening for all. Yesterday, Mike and I had our final talk.

Also, yesterday, the Pastor and Social Worker from Hospice came to visit and the Pastor spoke with Mike and Nicolle, the social worker got me. We talked about everything under the sun, but since I have always had such excellent hearing, I could also pay attention to what was being said by Mike. Nicolle was also multi-listening and when the pastor said something to Mike, she would excuse herself from our conversation and dig in her briefcase for the appropriate paperwork and pass it off. This allowed me to pay more attention to what Mike was rambling on about. You know how he likes to talk!

The Pastor asked him to tell him about his wife and this is what he said: (I am still shaking my head)
“I am so proud of Mary Anne, did you know that she is the original builder of the Crystal Cathedral in Santa Ana, California? Her and Robert Schueller were best friends and after she finished building the cathedral, he was so enchanted by her artistic ability, that he set her up on the corner of the street outside to sell her homemade flowers, paintings and trinkets. Any money she made she put right back into the church!”  (SOB)

Last night things went south quickly and Hospice is picking him up Monday to take him to their Hospice House. They have a room for him now, but they have ordered a special bed and it won’t be here till Monday. He is new on their service and they want to 24 hour assess him and see what happens. Everytime an event happens, I am on the phone with the 24-hr helpline and I think they want to see what is going on. I don’t think that after the week they plan on assessing him in that he will come home. I think he is ready to let go of this world and enter the next.

The bed arrived early- Mike will leave tonight at 7:00 his kids and ex-wife will leave tomorrow morning.

Love you all-

What do you tell someone, who has just been told that they have six months to live? Mike is home and tonight, the Hospice Nurse visited. She asked him if he had any questions for her. He said he had one (his confusion has lifted) He said he wanted to know what Hospice was?

As gently, and professionally and compassionately as she could she explained to him that this was end of life for him. That the general consensus of all his doctors, surgeons and specialists came down to a timeline of six months to live.

This time, he understood and I saw him get really mad and he told her: “I don’t feel like a six monther!’ (I don’t know if that is even a word). After she left, he just got quiet and neither Dave or I had a clue what to say to him. How would I feel if someone had delivered this news to me? Hard to say.

I have the emergency packet of all these pills- morphine, pills for agitation, pills to sleep, pills to stop nausea, pills for shortness of breath, and what they call the End Pill when he is no longer able to swallow. Gone are all restrictions on his life, He was told to Live Large and that is exactly what we are going to do and take it day by day. He had steak, baked potato, peas and broccoli for dinner and for the first time in about 6 months, I watched him want to eat. He wants a GIANT bag of peanut M&M’s to munch on and to start drinking diet pepsi again. Ok Mike, let’s do this and see where it goes.