Wild Woman Update

Kids, I am not online much right now, as my elderly friend Faiza is in serious condition in hospital, and I am running back and forth to be with her as much as possible. I will have to leap back into the pond once I have some time and dig my way out. Forgive the lack of posts and comments. I am thinking of you all. 


This reminds one, how much we take for granted things being "normal", and how quickly all of this can change - in a heartbeat.


Be well. Be happy. Be grateful. For every "normal" moment.

Partings and Reunions

Oprah showed the youtube clip today  of Christian the Lion's reunion with the two young men, Ace and John, who raised him as an orphaned cub in England, until he grew too big to keep. The men returned Christian to Africa, where George Adamson (of Born Free fame) agreed to reintroduce the lion to the wild. I had seen it before, months before Pup died.

A year later, the young men traveled to Kenya, hoping to see Christian again. They were warned that the lion was now fully integrated into the wild and likely would not remember them, that it could even prove dangerous. They went anyway. There is a link to the reunion, below, which makes me cry every time I see it.

The total joy of their reunion, the strength of their connection, the inter-species love, trust and joy, wonderful as it is to witness,  just breaks my heart. This was the kind of greeting Pup gave me on return from being away. He, too, stood on his hind legs and tried to hug me, as Christian did Ace and John. It is hard to know that will never happen again in this life, when I so wish it could.

But I also have to believe that one day, we will meet again. Just before Pup died, I told him that when I die, I want him to come and get me. The way the energy in the room changed, I knew he understood, as he understood everything. He had a human intelligence inside that black fur body, and his gaze penetrated more deeply than other dogs in my life, or humans either, for that matter. It was like he saw inside me. Our connection was deeper than I have had with any other being. And he loved me better, too, than any other being ever has.

I miss my boy tonight. I'd better not watch this video again for a while. It about does me in.

And today Faiza asked me, for the first time, the big question. Her husband, Bill, is on palliative care, but Faiza has had a hard time wrapping her mind around this reality. I have been worried that she doesnt realize how close to the end we are.

Their dog Lara has stopped eating. Faiza said to me, "Does Lara know something we dont know? Do you think it will be soon?"

I looked at her and said, honestly, but gently, "Yes, I think it will." Poor Faiza. I expect very debilitating grief and collapse once Bill dies. She has pushed herself beyond exhaustion, in her efforts to care for him and see him through. But once he is not there, it is going to be very tough for her. And for Lara. I expect I will be her main support, then,  as she doesnt really have anyone else.

And Bill? He made me cackle like a witch this morning. He asked the care aide to adjust the oxygen tube attached to his nostrils.

The care aide asked, "In your nose?"

"No..." said Bill, sarcastically, "blow it up my ass!" and I just cracked up. He gave me a faint little smile, to show the old fighting spirit was still in there. When I told Faiza she laughed so hard.

People - laughter - tears -  lions - dogs - love - hearts - connection - all pretty wondrous.

Here's the clip. Warning: be prepared to cry!

http://animal.discovery.com/videos/a-lion-called-christian-christian-the-lion-reunion.html

Faiza's Joy

Well, kids, this morning was special. Faiza called me to come and be with her while the ambulance brought Bill home. When I got there, she had Christmas music on, all the lights were on to cheer the place, she had ordered a massive bouquet of flowers, enough for three vases, "to welcome Bill home", and the house was singing with joy.

While we were waiting, I told her the story of the woman who died and came back to life, that I posted the other day, and Faiza said she had chills listening.

The sun came out to celebrate the day, and Faiza pronounced, "Now we will all have a happy Christmas. I prayed to God from my heart, and He heard me. My beloved Bill is coming home." Faiza's faith is so strong and her heart so pure, I know God answers her prayers.

Lara, his faithful Doberman, stood on the sofa, nose pointed out the window, watching for him.

When they arrived, my heart sank. They rolled Bill out on the stretcher and his face was yellow, and pale. He looked grim. He was not able to weight bear at all, transferring from stretcher to wheelchair, or from wheelchair to his special recliner. I was worried. He is a big man and Faiza is tiny, under five fet tall.

Right after they got him settled, hooked up his oxygen, and  left, Bill decided to go to the bathroom. He did manage to get up onto his walker and his tiny wife went right beside him, encouraging him, directing him to hold onto railings, helping him navigate. I fluttered alongside, moving tubes out of the way of their feet.  (Now they both have to be extra careful not to trip over the oxygen tubes that follow him wherever he goes.) He made it, and I let my breath back out again when he was safely back in his chair. I suggested to Faiza that he try to make these bathroom trips when the home support people are in the house - they come four times a day. He really is not steady on his feet and the effort exhausted him. But knowing that he had to, and with Faiza's strong will for him to be home and okay, he somehow managed the feat.

When it was all right for me to leave, Faiza told me, "Your presence here was a blessing. I so deeply appreciate your coming." I told her it was a privilege to be there for Bill's homecoming.

Faiza has such faith, she needs Bill to be home so much, that I hope, for both their sakes, that Bill will manage being at home (where he smiled for the first time in 21 days).I pray they have a happy Christmas together.

But as I drove away, I was pretty worried.

The Best Christmas Gift

[this is my daughter's window, down in Victoria~Stephanie took this photo. She looks out on a forest. Sigh.]

This morning the fog lifted to reveal a bright sunny sky, which perked up our spirits after so many gray days. First thing, after coffee with my sister, I went over to clean for Faiza, the sweet little elderly woman I wrote about a little while back.

Faiza is going through a hard time right now, as her beloved Bill is in the hospital. At home, Bill was happy; his face lit up when one walked in the door, he teetered around on his walker many times a day, he ate his meals and watched his movies with his devoted Doberman, Lara, at his side. He was happy. He was home.

Two weeks back, Faiza arrived home to find him on the floor. He had felt a little dizzy and had fallen and couldn't get up. The ambulance was called, he was taken to hospital and filed in a bed, where they left him lying for two weeks. They did realize he had been dehydrated and that he needed more oxygen.  Those things were fixed. But staff are too busy to do much more than maintain him. Faiza has been a warrior woman, trying to explain to the staff that he cannot be left lying down, he must be gotten up or he will lose his mobility. She keeps saying she wants to take him home, because he does better at home. But they keep replying he can't go home because of his mobility. "He is old. He can't get around."

But he was getting around before he went in hospital and was left lying in bed for two weeks. He should not even be lying down. At home he sleeps in a tilted recliner, with oxygen to help him breathe.

He has not been eating. Faiza finally found out they had been wheeling him down to a table where extended care patients were spoon-fed. He took one look, and figured he must be in really bad shape to be taken there. He refused all further meals because he did not want to go to that table. At home, he eats heartily, with his own two hands.

She went in the other day to find him lying with his eyes closed as if he was already dead.
"Bill, what is this? What is going on?"
"I'm dying, Faiza," he said.
"No, you are not dying. You cannot give up. You must try."

Faiza said she went home that night very upset, and she talked to God. "God, I have my pen and paper in front of me. I need you to put in my head what I am supposed to do. You tell me, and I will write it down."

What got written down on the paper was:
1. Call the private physiotherapist about treating Bill at home.
2. Call the masseuse about coming to the house.
3. Go and see Dr. G. in person.

Here is where my blood starts to boil. Faiza has serious mobility issues herself. She very recently had back surgery. She has had no chance to recover. She gets around on a walker and a scooter, but none of that is easy, when one is elderly and weak and exhausted. Her legs and feet are numb and give her a lot of pain and trouble. She had asked for the Handydart to pick her up from the hospital and drop her off at home, then come back  to take her to the doctor's appointment. But they were late getting her at the hospital - there was no time to go home in between. Faiza asked if she could be taken instead directly to the doctor's office. The driver said no, her instructions were to take her home so that is where they were going.

Faiza got dropped off at home and this four foot something little woman had to go up in the lift, back down in the lift, teeter over to the shed, unlock the door, wheel out her scooter, drive it up to the back of her car, lower the car ramp, get the scooter in, raise the ramp, close the heavy door. Then she  drove herself to the doctor's appointment, asking God to help her, because someone had to.

My good God.

Once there, she thanked the doctor very much for all he had done for Bill, and told him she was concerned because he was going downhill, lying in the bed, staff being too busy to exercise him, that he did better at home where she had home support four times a day for him, where he walked back and forth between his chair and the table, his chair and the bathroom,  and out to the porch to smoke the one cigar a day that he enjoyed. She told him  the private physiotherapist and masseuse both had agreed to come to the house to treat him. She asked could he please come home, because he was going to die in that hospital, he had given up.

The doctor was convinced. "All right, Faiza,  Bill can come home on Tuesday."  However, the physiotherapist in the hospital, who has so far done little for him, is disputing this, so it remains to be seen if he will be home Tuesday or not.

This little woman has a warrior heart, and she pushes herself, with legs that barely support her, but a will of steel that keeps the body moving forward beyond its capabilities. She says, "Bill is my number one priority. I ask for God's help and I will do whatever I have to do to take care of him."

I have been very worried about her, because the physical exhaustion of going back and forth to the hospital twice a day, and to her own medical appointments and physiotherapy, means she is getting no chance to rest, or take care of herself. She has been looking completely exhausted, peering out of raccoon eyes ringed with huge purple circles, just barely managing to  shuffle one foot in front of the other. She is one of those women who takes care of everyone else, and she comes last, one of the most unselfish people I have ever met. But I worry. If anything happens to her, Bill is sunk indeed.

Today she had called me to come and do some cleaning for her. I decided I could wait no longer to give her her Chistmas gift, a soft fluffy purple  fleecy blanket that I knew she would enjoy so much. She had no real blanket, I had noticed, and was using a utilitarian coverlet the ambulance service provides for its passengers. Not cozy, not soft and fluffy.

I handed her the gift bag and before she even looked in, she grabbed me in the tightest hug, just overwhelmed at being given a gift. She, who never stops giving.  When she pulled out the soft blanket, and when I put it on her bed, she was thrilled. "In the color that we love," she said, stroking it.

I said, "When you get home, Doctor Sherry recommends you get under it and have a nap!"

As I went about my cleaning, she kept telling me, "I just love you to bits, you know, habibi. I love you to bits," and she just kept murmuring endearments while I  cleaned and clattered about. It was definitely the most satisfying gift I gave this Christmas. It made me SO happy to give it!

She is the sweetest little woman ever. I pray Bill makes it, and comes home for Christmas. He is the light of her life. She has a heart full of love and she never was able to have children. He is all in all to her. I hope they have this Christmas together. And I dread the day when the inevitable occurs, and they are parted. That day is coming. But she says, "While we are alive, we live! We don't give up."

I brought home a couple of wonderful movies, I have a new poem on the go, and on the stereo is the most wonderful music. My Christmas gift to me was the k.d.lang Restrospective, a gathering of her best tunes. First, she stopped my heart with Skylark and then she just DID ME IN with Helpless. Oh my goodness, does life get any better? The new fresh light sage green paint has lightened up my living space, the new light laminate floors, make it feel like I have moved into a new place. My sister did all that for me. It transformed my living space and lifted my heart a hundredfold, to get those drab dark brown walls and that terribly worn 45 year old linoleum covered with new clean surfaces. Great music on the stereo, dinner at my sister's tonight, a good movie to watch after, a comfy soft purple bed to climb into later with a really good book...........nope, it just doesn't get any better than this!

Some updates

image from http://www.watergatesummer.blogspot.com/



Remember Allie from www.watergatesummer.blogspot.com
who befriended the family newly arrived from Iraq? We heard her story, and the family's, 
 during the Blogblast for Peace event. Allie writes that she has helped the family navigate through the intricacies of accessing services. She accompanied the children to their first pediatric exams and their first dental appointments, scary for the little ones. But they were brave and got through it. She made sure the heat got fixed in their apartment. And Allie reports that through her blogging, gifts from NINE states in the US continue to arrive for the family: blankets, coats, clothing, baby gear, art supplies.

She reports  the children seem much happier and are more relaxed, there is a lot more giggling. They do a lot of coloring, and every time Allie arrives with the latest donations (which she packages in big bright green gift bags to make it more festive) they get very excited to see what has arrived.

This one woman, quietly seeing a need and stepping up to the plate, has made this family feel welcomed in their new home.

I post stories and poems about some of the sad things that I come across. But I enjoy it so much more when I come across a story like this. Nothing big or heroic, just a woman who thought perhaps that family needed some help, and  friendship, and went over to offer it. Lovely. I so love big-hearted people! Read more about this family, and about Allie at Watergate Summer (link above). You'll be impressed. She shows how much one person CAN do to make a difference.

Yesterday my sister and I made a quick trip to Nanaimo, an hour from here. She dropped me at the mall while she went to an appointment and I had a happy time picking up a few Christmas gifts. We only have a Walmart here, no mall, so shopping is limited which usually doesn't matter. I don't shop much. But I wanted a few specific items, so yesterday was my chance. The gift that made me the happiest was buying a lovely light soft fleecy deep purple blanket for the elderly lady I clean for every Tuesday. She doesn't have a blanket, she uses the cotton cover the ambulance personnel use to cover patients in the ambulance. Purple is her favorite color (and mine.) I can't wait to see her face when I give it to her.

But the update on this little couple is a bit scary. When Faiza came home yesterday, she found Bill lying on the floor. He couldn't get up and they called the ambulance. Bill is in hospital now, on oxygen, on IV's. He wants to be home but he is in the right place. The down side is that Faiza, who should be lying down recuperating from back surgery, is toiling back and forth to the hospital to be at his side. She is exhausted, she is over-doing. But she is a woman whose own needs have always come last after everybody else's. I worry about her. Her back has not had a chance to heal, and her legs are giving her much trouble and she is over doing because she has no choice.  I know very well what that is like because I have done it myself my whole life too.

I pray he lives through Christmas. This couple is so close and loving, I can't imagine her when the dreaded day does come that he is no longer with her. She will be lost. Hopefully, he will perk up. But we have been watching his decline in recent weeks and it isn't looking good. Yet, still, her entire conversation is sprinkled liberally with "I love you's", and "habibti's" and "sweethearts" and "thank you's". Such a sweet little woman.

Pumpkins! Yesterday when Lori and I went to Nanaimo there they all were lining the road in the kazillions. Lined up atop cliffs, alongside the forest, sitting on rock ledges and one was stuck atop a stake right beside the road, like something out of the killing fields. All grinning. They looked adorable and I was chagrined I had not driven out that way when I did my pumpkin shoot. I KNEW they were there but the drive is an onerous one and I was tired. However, just know you received highly inferior pumpkins to what could have been on that post!

My old Mr Dog is still here, still hobbling. When he walks beside me, it isn't like walking a dog. He pads stealthily beside me like the bad old wolf that he is. He is failing, I am amazed he is still here and as he walks beside me I am thinking about the day not far off when he  no longer will be. It never gets any easier to think about.

Ms. Jasmine, however, is rockin' and rollin'. From day two she was putting her full weight on her rear leg, which blew our doors off. At her two week checkup, when she got her stitches out, the vet could not believe how well she was doing and in fact told me to not let her over-do it, to rein her in a little. She is bored but being very good and is healing so well. She has to be walked on leash for bathroom duties, as she can't be free for months yet. So every time I walk her out to pee, Pup gets very vocal and indignant as in his mind she is getting a ton of walkies and he is getting one a day. No fair! I love that he still has the fire to care.

The vet did me a huge kindness by waiving her surgical fee, thus lifting a ton of stress off my shoulders. I took them  a card with Jasmine's big smiling face on it, and a flat of doughnuts. The most expensive doughnut the vet ever ate. "Thanks for the surgery, here , have a doughnut!" It still cost a lot, but a thousand as opposed to $1700 is a considerable difference. People have kind hearts. And I think the fact that when she told me Jas needed surgery and I literally almost passed out, (they had to revive me with water and cold compresses), that actually helped me out a little. They didn't want me to go into cardiac arrest paying the bill, hee hee. Kind people with big hearts everywhere.

My sister and I drove around looking at properties yesterday on the outskirts of Nanaimo. Found some lovely rural areas that were also near the ocean (be still, my heart!), saw little farms that would be so lovely to live in with all our animals and the horse. "Farmhouse, mobile and five acres," she read on one sign we passed. "Sold!" I leaned forward and stared up at the heavens: "STOP IT!" Like God was showing us all the lovelies we couldn't afford and couldn't have.

"So now we can go home and stick our heads in the oven," she said.

"And just our luck we have electric stoves, not gas," I retorted. "A lot more painful!"

Cackles.

But when we did get home, and saw the sun lighting the poplars and a faint mist rising from the fields, there were our two cosy homes and all of our eager critters just waiting for us. We are pretty lucky, after all.