Tuesday, November 11, 2008


So much has been happening, it's hard to keep up with it all while it swirls in my brain. At work, the transit inmates have been shipped to other facilities and part of our institution is shut down for asbestos abatement. My section's offices are located largely in that area, so four of us are temporarily stationed in the staff dining room (nobody uses it for dining), our phones and computers hooked up on long tables to cords coming down from the ceiling...we look rather like a Jerry Lewis telethon.

We all like each other, so that's a plus. Otherwise, it's disconcerting, because there's lots of traffic flowing through all day. Just try making a phone call and actually hearing what's being said on the other end!

There have been some changes in Dad's condition. We noticed some confusion and occasional stupor...I thought it could be from the medications, but the hospice nurse seems to think that there is metastasis to the brain. Dad talked to me about that last night. I couldn't understand much of what he said, but knew what he was talking about. He said the nurse told him that one day or night, he would go to sleep and just not wake up.

I don't normally cry in front of my father and I tried hard to hide it, but I don't know how successful I was. I told him I'm there for him, for anything he needs and he said...I don't need anything, just your love. Well, you have my love, Dad. and he replied, You have mine.

He hasn't been an overly religious man, and doesn't put his trust in most clergymen. But there is one he trusts and respects. Unfortunately, he moved to South Carolina a few months ago. Yesterday, though, he called my father and asked him, "Marshall, are you ready?" And Dad told him "yes." They prayed over the phone together and talked at length. I'm not sure how much Mr. Reed could understand of what Dad was saying, but like with me, there was enough.

Dad asked for my cousin, Lynn, to come with his communion set and has asked that he perform the funeral ceremony when the time comes.

I know that with untreated brain metastasis, death comes quickly. Maybe a few weeks. So, I have been weepy this morning. I'm trying to look at the good side of this, if there is any such creature. He's suffering now, even with the medications; with the brain mets, he most likely will go into a coma and perhaps not know the pain.


Paula said...

There isn't much a person can say at a time like this but I want you to know I'm thinking of you and praying for your Dad and your family.

Debbie said...

Oh Mara, I'm crying with you. I wish I could give you a hug. Please know you and your family are in my thoughts and prayers.

Lori said...

I'm sending you love and hugs, and wish I could do more. I know this is a hard time, and I hope that your father's pain is little right now and that his suffering is short. Hang in there, and let us know if you need to talk.

Terri said...


I'm so sorry to hear this...

Keeping your daddy as well as the rest of your family in my thoughts and prayers...

May his pain be very little and may he find some comfort during these days...


Mark and Elayne said...

As a former Hospice LPN, it's ok to weep.
Know that your not alone, that you and your family are being prayed for.
I am sending you a huge hug. Pour yurself a cup of tea and know I am enjoying a cup with you.

Leslie said...

I'm sorry about your dad. I know the pain and you are in my prayers.

Leigh said...

I'm keeping you and your family in my thoughts and prayers.
Hugs, Leigh

natalie said...

you are in my thoughts and prayers.
have you considered adding the new drugs that help people to keep thinking?

Martha said...

I'm glad to have finally caught up with you here on blogger - but so sad to hear what's going on. Your dad, you and your family are in my thoughts and prayers.