Gary & Dad Chronicles - Nails - Entry 6

 The Gary & Dad Chronicles – Getting my nails done

 

When Dad was in the hospital in January, we couldn’t go visit.  We were finally allowed but my sister and my brother were at my house.  There was so much going on.  I typically have a nail appointment late Monday every other week.  So, we knew that Dad was going to be transferred to my center on that Monday, I rescheduled my appointment.  I think I had been without nails for 3 weeks for some reason.  So, I made an appointment for Tuesday morning at 8:30a.  Both Kristy and I had moved all kinds of things around at that point. Nearly all of the time Gary was in was spent dealing with Dad day.

 

So, Dad gets to my center at about 5pm.  Rolled in and my sister, brother and I got all gowned and gloved up and went in to see him once he was settled.  He had COVID so we had to get dressed up like little yellow PEEPs.

 

We all got time with him, he looked just like he was sleeping according to Gary.  He did.  We hadn’t done any live saving stuff, so he wasn’t jacked up from all the “do everything” interventions.. 

 

7:30am the next morning the nurses called to let us know he had died.  The three of us were standing there frozen in time.  I asked if the other two wanted to go in and see him.  Gary said hell no.  Kristy didn’t know what the right thing to do was.  I told her there was no right and no wrong.

 

Kristy asked what I was going to do.  I said go and get my nails done, then I would be into the center.  No more cancelling nail appointments.  Dad would be in the exact same shape when I got there as he was currently.

 

Fast forward to present day and this brother of mine coming into the inpatient unit to get pain and anxiety managed.  He wants me to stay tonight.  Tomorrow, too and for days to come.  So, I say to my sister, I need to get my nails done.

 

Then it occurred to me these Louk men keep messing up my nail schedule. It’s rude.

 

Gary Chronicles - Entry 5 - This bitch....

What folks tell you about a patient who is your family is nothing.  Just all of it. No one can prepare the family who thinks they know what it's going to be.  It is the hospice nurse who knows to the ground she is nothing but office help at this point and doesn't know what is up or down.  My sister Kristy is the real powerhouse in the caretaking business.

So drugs.  They are a beautiful thing except for the time when they decided to have a upside down and sideways effect.  It wildly swings from funny to infuriating and begging for quiet while he is in his mania!

Comedy was this evening's menu.  All things are extra from him.  He asks for something to drink, you get up to get it and he calls your name and says it again.  Well, Kristy's the name he calls.  He doesn't get that he JUST asked the question.

Tonight was the progression of him being willing to take us at our teasing as teasing.  Sometimes he has to be reminded that there is still sarcasm in this life and that we are not out to get him.  He is the WORST with his partner of 25+/- years.  If there is something weird that happens while Meg is in the house, he will lash out and think the worst of her, first thing.  Not deserved, btw.  You know I would say if it were!!

When the yellow/tan skeleton decides that he needs to be walking around, everyone holds their breath!  He is off balance and has fallen, held up by my BIL, John to avert another fall.  He likely weighs 90 lbs.

Non-sense comes out of his mouth.  Sometimes he can weave a story and then provide us clarity on the one piece that is missing.  Then we catch up.  He turns something on TV (which has to run all the time) and becomes agitated because Kristy is on her phone, I am on my computer or my phone and it doesn't feel like anyone is watching WITH him.  Irritated.  If he is watching and listening he shushes us.  If we watch with him and are into it, he wants to tell every story with every distraction and then roll back for the TV show and start over.  It's nuts.

He had an infection in his eye.  He could barely open it and was in pain.  We got abx and eye drops for him from hospice.  Ornery, no on the abx, they don't taste good.  No, he's tired and doesn't want to do eye drops.  

Fast forward to today.  Can hospice get me to an EN&T to check my ears, says he.  My eyes are getting better but my ears still have fluid and are stuffed.  So I say.....remember that abx we got from hospice?  If you had actually taken that you would likely be over.  Now, he's taking it.  Also he had 2 contacts in.  Refused to take it out.  Either of them; until a friend came over and took it out for him.

Had me make him an eye doctor appointment.  His prescription isn't updated so he needs order new contacts. Ahem.  New contacts?  OK...what are you gonna do? How long will you live to wear them?  I'm the one who delivers the bad news.

His ability to swallow is on the brink of not being a thing.  He is on so much medication that the use of the liquid meds we have in the house is going to be so insignificant.  The hospice has an inpatient unit.  We are hoping to get him in there for some IV medications continuously.  We will see.  We call and check in daily to see if there is a bed.

His belly is starting to swell.  He will likely need to be tapped.  It is starting to make it hard for him to deep breathe.

So we are in the confusion/sort of crazy/paranoid/funny/grouchy/needy/demanding/whispering/yelling/asshole/LOUK man!

Just keep swimming.....

Gary Chronicles - Entry 4 - Muskrat

 So...Gary has had 100 lives.  He has been in car accidents, so drunk he has fallen asleep on his 4-wheeler,  and I could go on and on.  It started when he was 3 and his mom got in a car accident that was impressive in its severity.  Gary was in a body cast for a bit.  But now, our story.

Once upon a time, around a year ago plus or minus a few months, Gary was in a car accident.  He was so much more than drunk it was crazy to me.  I have never been drunk that way.  Not ever.  Not once.  I don't know what he drank but he ran into the ditch.  He ran into a BIG ditch.  He totaled his car.  He hit so hard the steering wheel SNAPPED the fuck IN HALF!  That's pretty hard.  Have any of you ever been in an accident and snapped the wheel in half?  Ever?  Have you ever been drunk enough to snap the steering wheel in half?  How about not wearing a seat belt and end up only with an egg on the forehead?  This kid did.  He was drunk enough to be a rubber band and just bounce.

A friend came out to help my SIL to get him somewhere, keep him calm, really to help him not do anything stupid.  I'm help him not to another stupid thing.

Of course the police came.  They asked him what happened.  He told them he saw a muskrat and swerved to miss him.  A muskrat.  That's the animal he picked.  Of all the critters that could be out in the road.  A muskrat.  What in the thundering blue hell is a muskrat, for the love?!?!?

My SIL called me because most times I can calm him down and he listens to me.  Not this time.  He was telling hospital staff they didn't know who he was, and he was going to call the mayor!  Dialing and they whole deal.  I got on the phone and told him all the calm down things.  He said he wasn't going to calm down and said goodbye with a "love you long time" and hung up on me.

OK, so let's get back to the muskrat.  When the laughter came back enough times he looked up the muskrat.  Gary lives in north Alabama.  There are wetlands rodents.  They look like a cross between a gopher and beaver.  Anyway, they are all over the U.S.  For his convenience he decided that they live in north Alabama and southeast Tennessee.  It fit his narrative.

So, in honor of him, every critter on the side of the road or we see scamper and can't recognize, is a muskrat.

That was the backstory. Someone came to house and he was telling the story about the muskrat and the snapped steering wheel and said, "the car swerved, the ditch did not."

Gary Chronicles - Entry 3 - Lobster

 For those of you who don't know, the dying process is pretty consistent.  No longer wanting food or water or anything else to drink is all part and parcel.  Gary is at that stage.

Each night when we girls, either 2 or 3, go somewhere to eat he askes for us to take a picture of the menu so he can have us bring something back.  We have pretty successfully gone no where except the hotel restaurant.  It's tasty, consistently good and the service is fantastic.  We go and send the menu to Gary and he puts in his order for 7 or 8 things.  We bring it back to him, he takes 2 bites and is finished.  This is consistent, no harm no foul.  Until....

H2O is the name of the restaurant.  It's pricey but I have explained the reasons why we still go.  Last night he decides he wants the Lobster Fettuccini.  This meal includes a full pound of lobster incorporated into the pasta and fancy sauce.  Gary decides this is what he would like to have.  He sends through his order.

In writing...

Gary: Bring me the Lobster Fettuccini.

Me: How about some buttered noodles.

Gary: I want the Lobster Fettuccini.

Me: How about some buttered noodles.

He calls me.  He wants to know why he can't have the Lobster Fettuccini.  I tell him what happens with food.  He orders a shit load, we bring a shit load back, he takes 2 bites and is done.  Meg, his partner of 23 years already knows all of this.  She has spent the last 2 years eating whatever crazy thing he orders.  No sense in ordering 2 meals when she knows the one will feed both of them.

So I tell him I will not by $43 plate of Lobster Fettuccini for him to take one bite.  He is quiet for a minute and says, I see what you are saying.  He got buttered noodles.

Now before all of you hospice-y types start to say it is what he wants, just get it.  No.  We have indulged his every whim to this point.  Lobster is the cut off.

So, here we are in the hotel room.  Calamari, part of some fish or another sandwich, other pasta, chocolate cake, ice cream, cookies, churros, ginger ale, apple juice, water, milk, gatorade and Malibu Rum are present in our kitchenette.  If he can't find something that suits him in all of that, he's just not trying.  He also isn't trying!  He's dying.  He wants tactile stimulation.  Nothing tastes right.  Eat something else that doesn't taste like Lobster that won't taste like Lobster.

Eat that. 

The girls contented that I am in the only one who could tell him no Lobster and he wouldn't be bent out of shape.  Whatever it is, still no Lobster! 

Gary Chronicles - Entry 2 - The Fob

So you know, these things may not be in chronological order for happening.  They are consistent with the times I think of them!

Gary is a smart ass.  I can't imagine where he came from as none of his other family members are.  Ahem.

We have taken Gary to Pensacola Beach this week.  We were going to go to a movie last night and my car broke down.  Well, the battery decided that it was no longer capable of running this challenge. 

Gary decided the reason my car wasn't starting, in fact we couldn't even unlock it, was because of the fob needing a battery.  He's stubborn.  Also a trait I am quite sure you would never find in our family.  Ahem, again.

Here is the run down on the car.  I parked it on Sunday afternoon when we got here.  I went to try to start it again on Wednesday evening when we were going to see Top Gun.  The car was completely and totally dead.  Like the Wicked Witch in Oz, most sincerely dead.  Ford has this neat thing on the side of the door where you can program a combination and get into the car when needed.  The light up wasn't even lighting up.  It refused to be locked or unlocked. Again, red slippers, black & white stripped leggings. Dead.

I am a wretched evil person about a car breaking down.  My sister and/or I could regale you with stories of being stranded.  Dad did it.  Ever hear "the cobbler's sons go shoeless?" That is us.  The cobbler's daughters.  Dad was a good guy and helped everyone.  Could work on anything and fix it.  Genius really.  Just not as much brain power put into our cars.  So they broke down.  He knew how to fix them but had some kind of metal block with the word "preventative" regarding maintenance.  The added feature of me having had the fob come apart in another bag and the inside key being in that bag, in Virginia, doesn't help me today.

Just like Scarlett swore she would never go hungry again, I have refused in my adult life to have a vehicle that I wasn't sure about, every single time.  This is my first experience like this in roughly 26 years.  Yes, I can describe the exact moment I experienced this previously.  That's not what the story is about but you now know it is one of my pain points.

Gary: It has to be the fob

Me: It isn't the fob

Gary: Yes it is.  There is a key inside the fob.

Me: I know, there should be but it fell out and is in another bag.

Gary: No you need to take the fob apart.

Me: I know that.  I know about this key.  I know it should be there.  I also know it is in the bottom of another bag because the fob, this fob, this one right here, kept coming open and the key fell out.

Gary: So you don't have the key. **blink, blink**  There is a battery in the fob that we will need to replace.

Me: It isn't the fob. The entire car is dead.  All of it, no signs of life, zero, none. No little numbers on the door to enter the lock pin, even.  Done.  Dead.

The banter about the fob continues along this way.  Then Kristy gets into the act.  She has been the lone ranger of management of crisis for so long she autopilots into what needs to be done.  All the Louk children are youtubing and researching and, and, and.

Today I called the insurance company and entered service for someone to come and unlocked the door.  That key we talked about, that would have opened the door but it wasn't here, because it's in another bag, in Virginia.  Someone came out, popped the lock, jumped the car and I drove straight to Ford.  The battery was completely shot, a new one replaced it's sad predecessor and bing, bang, boom, Trixie is back on her pretty black wheels.  

It's a relief!  The aforementioned mood/attitude I caught was defused.

Fast forward to tonight.  Gary asks, "was it the fob?" Nope.  Not the fob.  The fob is fine.  Except for that key in my other bag, in Virginia, the fob is fine.

Upshot.  We added an extra night to the vacation in case the car would be stuck under a house for a while, ruby slippers outstretched.  That gave us time to figure things out.  Now the car works.  The fob, the one that was never broken...the one that had a key in it that fell out in my bag, the bag in Virginia...that fob is in perfect working order.  The battery is now in perfect working order.  We have an extra day on the beach. Perfect.  At least it was simple....

Dad Chronicles - July 2021 - Feb 1, 2022

 Much like the Gary Chronicles, these are the musings of time spent, ridiculous happenings, fun things, infuriating things and things that never could have happened had I not gotten divorced.  I'm so thankful for that one thing.  For many reasons, but one of the most important is that my house is open to my family and friends once again.

The X and I called it quits.  He moved out in June of  2020.  I sold our house in July 2021 and moved to the condo that had been my MIL's right across the sidewalk.  Yes, that MIL....where all the chronicles originated. My life has been a series of chronicles, it would seem.

July of 2021 equaled my dad calling me at 5pm on a Saturday and saying, 

Dad: "Hi, baby.  What are you doing?"

Me: "Nothing, just sitting here with Noodle"

Dad: "I'm going to come by and see you."

Me: "Ok, see you when you get here." or words to that effect.

This Saturday night call wasn't just for the evening.  It was him coming over for the evening for about a week.  He would come over, we would shoot the shit, get something to eat, talk until the wee hours and snuggle with Noodle.  He probably came and did that about 1-ish times a month.

If someone had been man enough to take care of me and not to cheat on me, I would never have had this time with my dad.  Well worth it.  100% the better outcome all the way around.

Dad would always drink to much and listen to the TV on 7000 decibels and talk about the old days.  Some stories I had heard before, some I hadn't.  I'm sure they were embellished, but it was his right to embellish.  Some stories I would recount he would remember and other things he had never been told before or couldn't remember.

My sister is a saint.  Straight up, heaven bound if there is such a thing.  She's in easy!  Dad was sick about 10-12 years ago with an abscess on his spine.  It was the beginning of an odyssey that lasted until Feb 1 2022 for her.  After he had been sick he moved in with her and my BIL's family.  He was hard on her.  He was something.  Woke my mother up EVERY morning at 4:30a and said, "Brenda, have you seen my keys?"  Every.  Day.  I don't know how she didn't smother him in his sleep. Truly.  His eccentricities changed, came and went, got better, got worse.  It was a new day every day.  Kristy had to manage that for 12 years.  She'd do it again, probably.  That doesn't mean it wasn't herculean. Because it sure was.  

This is the place where I tell all of you that relief is not only ok but a reality for just about anyone losing someone they love.  Especially if  they have had to take continuous care of the person.  It just is.

And so I was able to have dad around more often.  He had a room, a bathroom to himself.  He knew he was welcome anytime for as long as he wanted.  Some times he stayed more than one week.

And that is the real beginning of the Dad Chronicles and these intersecting with the Gary Chronicles. 

Gary Chronicles - Entry 1 - Here is Why and What

So here is the thing.  I don't want to put this stuff on my facebook.  He's on my facebook and for as long as he is alive the stories belong to him.  Once they are mine completely, maybe.

These are the chronicles of my brother Gary.  As we speak Gary is 43 years old.  He will never be older than that.  Gary and I don't share blood.  He is half brother to my sister.  They have the same dad.  My sister, Kristy is my half sister.  We have the same mom.  Still, I love him.  That's that.

March of 2020 brought a diagnosis of Stage 4 Colon Cancer.  It had already metastasized to his liver.  His oncologist ( I refer to him as my boyfriend, you'll find out) told him there was no getting out of it.  Turns out there was a half of a flipped switch from his mom and half a flipped switch from dad that made this cancer absolutely unavoidable.  At some point it was just going to be there. Down the line we discover that his doc and others had been prompting him to go to the doc over some symptoms and he didn't.  Times years.  So no surprise it was already in his liver.

Sharing a dad made it important for my sister to get checked out before she could turn 40.  She's fine, thank the stars, but she will be vigilant.

Gary said from the start he wanted to travel and for all of us to go with him so he could spend time with us.  The following trips happened:

April 2021 - Gaitlinburg, TN.  Whole family, the whole mess of us.  Dad, Kristy and my BIL John, Gary and my SIL Megan, me and all the dogs.  Gary & Megan's Lola and Atlas.  My Noodle.  Good times for sure.

September 2021 - Jekyll Island, GA.  Just the two of us.  It was a great trip.  We laughed and ate good food and drank good drinks.

Now we are at June 2022 and we are in Pensacola Beach, FL.  Me, Kristy, Gary & Megan.  He is perched on the absolute edge of death.  We are just waiting for it and trying to get his final bucket list items in.  I don't think he really wanted to go to the beach.  He doesn't like the beach.  He does like restaurants and bars and shops and the whole thing.  We have been here for 3.5 days and he has walked downstairs twice and been on the patio maybe 2 times at most.  He has been on the couch 20 out of 24 hours of every day.  Sleeping for much of it.

He has a 43 year old heart and lungs that aren't sure what they need to do, but they are pretty convinced it is not time to die.  So is he.  Still.  He's coming around to it and knows where he is.  He doesn't like it.  That makes all of us.

We put him on hospice and promptly left for the beach.  That was a rough day.  He could have had hospice WAY before this but he has an oncologist (I struggle to respect this breed) who doesn't understand the regulations and how they could have coexisted.  Also not willing to learn.

This is the back story on the Gary Chronicles.  More to follow.....