bye, bye, faut que je m'en aille
Oct. 9th, 2003 01:05 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
jawnbcMonths ago, I decided to change my schedule and leave Australia in late August so I could spend time with my increasingly ailing Ma. Tomorrow I leave for the first of two trips from Hongcouver to Nu Yawk; the other is for Christmas, my first Christmas with Clan Egan in 15 years. I've been so busy lately I've not had the time to reflect/prepare for my visit.
And that's a bad strategy with my parents. Because really it's like going to battle: gear up, eyes open, reflexes ready.
Ma has advanced emphysema. She had her first respiratory failure about 5 years: only about 10-15% of emphysema patients live 5 years or more after their first failure. And her second was in July. She's now on oxygen 24/7, uses a motorized chair to get across the house and a mini-lift to get up and down the stairs. She can--and does--still cook dinner for her and Da. But she can't carry the plates to the table, a distance of about 2 metres. Otherwise her dinner'll get cold by the time she gets her breath back. Sort of.
It seems that one of the (many) perks of being the queer kid--maybe this applied to any kid who's categorically different from his parents and siblings in some clear and obvious way--is a cunning sense of what's really going on in the family. Less denial. Of course when one--I mean I--try to bring my observations to my siblings' attention, they tend to scoff. At least at first.
My sister and I are more often on the same page. So we've talked at length about Ma's health and that we need to plan both for her death and Da's life after. Kath wants we 4 to meet while I'm in NY, and while I appreciate the sentiment I doubt it will happen. Busy schedules, and Mike's usually missing in action with his 2 jobs. Most likely I'll talk with Kath and Tommy independently. I've done some research on emphysema disease progression, so when Tommy says "nah, she's not that bad," I'll be able to clue him in. Perhaps.
My mother's emphysema kicked in less than 6 weeks after she retired from nursing. The mini-van she and Da bought to take driving holidays to Florida eventually got sold. She's only gone more than 35km from home to go in hospital. She had quit smoking about 5 years before she got sick, but the damage was done--and she didn't start smoking until she was 21. She's always been dynamic, a doer, clever and fiery. Now she's trapped in her own body. She's 5 feet tall and weight 115-120 pounds all her life: emphysema's shrunk her down as low as 69 pounds (the body burns its own cells over-respirating). Currently she's slowly suffocating, soon she'll be slowly drowning.
I still have "issues" with both my parents, and I'm not so naive and self-absorbed to try now and "get everything out in the open." Tried that several times over the years, with little headway. Her time left is hers, not mine--if she ever wanted to get into stuff I'll happily do so. But I'm gonna try to be present, and let her know she's a good person and I love her.
Emphysema is right up there with cancer and AIDS as a gruesome way to die.
And that's a bad strategy with my parents. Because really it's like going to battle: gear up, eyes open, reflexes ready.
Ma has advanced emphysema. She had her first respiratory failure about 5 years: only about 10-15% of emphysema patients live 5 years or more after their first failure. And her second was in July. She's now on oxygen 24/7, uses a motorized chair to get across the house and a mini-lift to get up and down the stairs. She can--and does--still cook dinner for her and Da. But she can't carry the plates to the table, a distance of about 2 metres. Otherwise her dinner'll get cold by the time she gets her breath back. Sort of.
It seems that one of the (many) perks of being the queer kid--maybe this applied to any kid who's categorically different from his parents and siblings in some clear and obvious way--is a cunning sense of what's really going on in the family. Less denial. Of course when one--I mean I--try to bring my observations to my siblings' attention, they tend to scoff. At least at first.
My sister and I are more often on the same page. So we've talked at length about Ma's health and that we need to plan both for her death and Da's life after. Kath wants we 4 to meet while I'm in NY, and while I appreciate the sentiment I doubt it will happen. Busy schedules, and Mike's usually missing in action with his 2 jobs. Most likely I'll talk with Kath and Tommy independently. I've done some research on emphysema disease progression, so when Tommy says "nah, she's not that bad," I'll be able to clue him in. Perhaps.
My mother's emphysema kicked in less than 6 weeks after she retired from nursing. The mini-van she and Da bought to take driving holidays to Florida eventually got sold. She's only gone more than 35km from home to go in hospital. She had quit smoking about 5 years before she got sick, but the damage was done--and she didn't start smoking until she was 21. She's always been dynamic, a doer, clever and fiery. Now she's trapped in her own body. She's 5 feet tall and weight 115-120 pounds all her life: emphysema's shrunk her down as low as 69 pounds (the body burns its own cells over-respirating). Currently she's slowly suffocating, soon she'll be slowly drowning.
I still have "issues" with both my parents, and I'm not so naive and self-absorbed to try now and "get everything out in the open." Tried that several times over the years, with little headway. Her time left is hers, not mine--if she ever wanted to get into stuff I'll happily do so. But I'm gonna try to be present, and let her know she's a good person and I love her.
Emphysema is right up there with cancer and AIDS as a gruesome way to die.
no subject
Date: 2003-10-09 09:21 pm (UTC)