by Ma Suvida
As a sannyasin, I knew the best way to get through something is to walk rightthrough the middle of it. And so I did. I had to face this thing about my health...was itreally true? Did I make it up? Am I trying to get out of something? Testing revealed several rhematological disorders. Rheumatoid arthritis, an uncommonly large amount of Osteoarthritis and Fibromyalgia are the names of these problems. Sufficeto say, my stamina is poor and I feel awful on rainy days. It has taken several years for me to accept and go from there.Having worked full time all my life, whatever would I do? Accepting retirement at age 40 was a depressing event. Now, I really have to ask...who am I? Am I the psychologist who wound up in central management for The New York State Office of Mental Health? The woman who thrived on pressure, the traveller, the maker of speeches, the manager of hundreds of millions, she who must be obeyed. She who used the informal network to make things happen. This sounds like a very busy person...not much time to ask who am I? If I had asked, the answer would have been all about what I did, not who am I. In retrospect , I see that my ego was extremely well fed. Needless to say, I was no longer the vivacious, witty woman, my husband had married. That woman was inside me, but was hidden under layers of pain and stress .
After sixteen years of marriage, we did not make it through together. I left in the Fall of 1990, feeling it would be better to be alone than to continue the way we were. Not long after my departure, I wound up in the hospital with a fractured vertebra. Yet, another spinal bone graft with screws, nuts and bolts and all wrapped tightly into a hard brace from shoulders to butt for 6 months. I had lots of time alone, time to witness the feelings coursing through me; time to meditate and read.
For several months I was completely lost; didn't have a clue to what to do for the rest of my life. I realised I had no goals, spent a good deal of time contemplating a life without goals. I had chased the carrot all my life. On the other hand, I had many lessings...Osho in my heart, two devoted sisters at my side, an extensive personal and professional support system , excellent medical coverage and financial security.
The basics were all in place. There was much to be appreciated in my life and I knew it. Now, I could move anywhere I wanted...me and my arthritis had to vacate the North East. Where to go? I surveyed many locations, some, I am sure, are better weather wise than where I live now. Having experienced so much change, I felt it would not be wise for me to go where I had no support system; or so far away I wouldn't get much company (everyone from the NE gets to Florida sooner or later). And one more little thing...Mom and Dad were in Florida!
And so, I returned to the womb. Little did I know...I found a great place to live on a natural canal to the Gulf of Mexico. Mom and Dad lived 4 miles away. There were roughly 14 months to get to know them again and to enjoy their company (separately). No time was wasted. Every week I would go out with each of them. As you have probably gathered, they didn't get along at all, constant bickering. I settled in very well, made new friends and began recovering from the shell shock of 1990.
The shock of 1992 shook me to the core; I now knew why I was in Florida. Dad was diagnosed with acute leukemia in the fall. Within days he was in the hospital for chemotherapy. For 6 weeks we had to wear masks and gloves while visiting him; such an incredible time not to be permitted to touch. No matter how much chemo, this was still terminal. With two rounds of intensive chemo, the best case possible was two years. My sisters came immediately and Dad's brothers and sister came soon after. These seven visitors were billeted at mom's house or mine. It took very little time to see that when one person in a family gets cancer, the whole family gets cancer. Finally, the visitors were gone, but one of my sisters was able to stay a considerable time. During the six weeks of treatment, we were called to the hospital two times because Dad was dying; the chemo was really poisonous. We had been told from the start that the treatment might kill him.
Finally, he was able to come home; the effects of the chemo were devastating; he still had tremendous pain. He had to use a morphine patch right to the end...so much pain, so nauseous, so thin. One day while alone with my sister and me, Dad began to express his needs. A Living Will was already in place. That was not enough for him.
He had a huge fear of winding up in a nursing home. He asked about some organization that helped sick people die. I did some research through friends in New York City. I learned about The Hemlock Society and its various publications. Their motto is "Good Life, Good Death". Some of their publications deal with the correct methods for "self-deliverance". Having chapters in every state of the union, this organization lobbies legislative bodies for a change in law in order to permit physician aid in dying for terminal patients.
Dad and I joined the organization and bought a book. He asked my sister and I to read it for him. We quickly complied. We than sat before our father and presented our findings. He wanted to know if we had the necessary medications available. I had already put a package together of what was needed and included my tears. He looked at everything and told me to take it home...he would let me know when he wanted it. It was never mentioned again. He did mention that he loved us and deeply appreciated what we were doing.
A month later he was scheduled for the second round of chemo. No way. He was so weak we all knew he wouldn't get through it. He absolutely refused to take more poison. Now Dad was considered terminal and was referred to the local hospice. Around this time my sister had to return to her home. So that left Mom and I to handle things. We met with the hospice social worker at my parents home. As usual mom stepped aside asking me to handle it. A full background history was taken and we developed the treatment plan. I could hardly believe all they said they would do for us. An R.N. would come to check Dad out three times a week, and any time we asked them to. They paid for and delivered his medications.
These hospice people seemed very special to me. I liked the way they spoke to my Dad. His dignity was never compromised. These angels would talk to me alone as long as needed, they were very direct and clear when sharing information. Dad was failing more each day. Mom was in the background hiding out at bingo. I assumed the shopping and bill paying for their household. I was so sad watching him suffer. Of course, Dad and I became very close through the ordeal. Dad was strong and able to take care of his own physical needs. He never lost his dignity and the hospice staff was right there when needed.
Dad told many stories about his childhood and early manhood. Sick as he was, he could make me have a good belly laugh. He loved the hospice staff for their help and company. He instructed me not to let people spend money on flowers and Mass Cards, but to make donations to hospice. With minimal help from my mother and the cooperation of me and hospice, my Dad was granted his wish...to die at home in his own bed.
The night before he died, he and I went to the local emergency room. Suddenly he had gone into outrageous, uncontrollable pain . At the hospital blood work was quickly done. The doctor there told me Dad had no more than a week and could stay in the hospital. Dad chimed in that he wanted to go home with something more for the pain. The doctor gave us a script for diladud, instructing me to give Dad one every 20 minutes til he settled down.
We got home at midnight. I got Dad into his bed, helping him to lie back. I gave him the first pill, twenty minutes later he was still moaning I gave him another one and so on til about 7 AM. I knew exactly what was happening. Falling asleep at around 7 am he never woke, dying in the early evening.
It was five months after diagnosis. I had realised at the time of Dad's diagnosis, that Mom would be needing me. Mom was not in good shape; she had severe osteoporosis (honeycomb bones) and was in the early stages of Parkinson's disease.
Nevertheless, she was able to live alone for a year. I saw her several times a week, drove her to all appointments and to all bingo's. I quickly understood how much my Dad had to do for her; now it fell to me. And so I ran two households. The work and the stress took a great toll on me. I had much less time to tend to myself. Mom began to fall occasionally, then she took a really bad fall and blackened half her face. I knew it was time to merge households. I rapidly sold my condo and purchased a larger one, a duplex...I knew we would need a lot of space.
At around this time, Mom's mental capacity began deteriorating . We moved in together and slowly drove each other nuts. She was helpless. I will never know if it was her life long avoidance of work or the Parkinson's disease. As always, I tried to please her; a woman who had never been pleased in her life...unless she was drinking. Lucky for me, she no longer drank hard liquor. It was an incredible 18 months. A wonderful meditation that totally proved to me, that one person could never change another, no matter what . The more I did for her, the more she wanted me to do. For her the glass was half empty at all times. I felt frustrated and trapped. Visitors did not like the way she treated me.
I was still trying to find my mother who was not in my life full time until I was 13. She left my Dad with the kids and went to find herself many times. She was a pretty woman who took advantage of whatever opportunity. My meditation was to do for her that which she had not been able to do for me.
One day she fell and broke her hip and her thigh bone shattered into more than 40 pieces. A lengthy surgery secured her by placing an internal prothesis from her hip to her knee. The doctors said she would never walk again and very likely get pneumonia from lying in bed so much . Now, Mom was sentenced to a nursing home.
There was no choice. Three people were needed to move her: two for her body and one for the bad leg. Coming home was not an option. I spent a long time feeling her loneliness. This was a worrisome period. I just couldn't stand her being in a nursing
home. As time passed, her mind drifted away. She was declared incompetent . This was upsetting, but true.Every time I entered the nursing home, I was devastated by such helpless sad patients, before I got to Mom's room. Mom wanted me to live in the chair beside her bed. This was all so wrenching.
The months passed; I brought food, magazines, audio tapes and visitors. Somewhere in there she forgot who I was; shortly thereafter she stopped talking; finally, she stopped eating. What an experience, the doctor calls me and says that it is time for a feeding tube.
Thank you Mom and Dad for leaving Living Wills to give me guidance. I refused the feeding tube. The most profound decision I have ever made.I arranged that she be offered food, not forced. It was up to her and there was nowhere to go. Enter hospice, so very supportive for me. Again, hospice offered excellent service. The hospice nurses
visit nursing homes where there are terminal patients. These nurses are able to assess pain, whether the patient is verbal or not. They also sent volunteers to sit with her several days a week. Hospice carried me through those last 6 weeks.there together, speaking softly to her when she left her body. There was such peace on the faces of Dad and Mom as each left the body. The suffering had ended. I look forward to leaving the body as the next great adventure. My problem is with the enormous pain that so many suffer before departure. When death comes, it is welcome.
My sister stayed about two weeks and then returned to her family. Now I was alone. It was great and awful at the same time. I felt the effects of years stress and pain. It was hard to believe that the ordeal was over. Mom left her body on July 18, 1996. Since that time, hospice has called me monthly to ask how I'm doing. Those people kept me going during the worst years in my life.
Eventually my attention returned to my life. I knew the cloud of early retirement brought with it a silver lining...my life had no `have to's and no structure. I could get into anything I wanted. Precious freedom. So, what do I want to do with my life?
What to do? Who cares? I have learned by now that life gives direction, all I have to do is say yes or no. So that is what I did, rested until some directions turned up. I knew two things, I was eternally grateful to hospice, and I felt great empathy for others in this situation ...which includes each and everyone of us at some time.
It did not take me long to decide to be a hospice volunteer . This could involve sitting with terminal patients in their homes in order to give the caregiver a break, bringing medications to the patient's home prescribed by the hospice physician, doing arts and crafts for sale or office work. Naturally, I went to sit with patients; a profound time to join the family circle.
As a former manager in health care, I observed the whole organization and how it works...surprisingly efficient . There are very positive feelings surrounding the hospice concept and philosophy: enabling a person to die at home and ensuring that the patient is in the least possible pain. There are several other components to hospice, but I'll stick to what I've done.
After being with patients for several months, the director of volunteer services asked if I would be willing to teach the volunteer training. A question asked, the answer, of course, YES. An opportunity to teach again! I was and still am grateful for this opportunity. And soon another question, would you consider doing some public speaking for us? Directions! YES.
Some structure came into my life, I am happy to do whatever they want me too. It feels good to give something and not be paid. I am so grateful; it is an honor to do this work. Thank you, Osho, for having me as a sannyasin and for showing me how to let life happen...yes, the grass does grow by itself. My existence is pleasant and relaxed. I smile again. I appreciate my aloneness; it is a joy. And yes, lots of people come to Florida.....I have many visitors from the North. Life is good.