The Journey's End

John passed away at approximately 9:30 p.m. tonight.  One of the nurses, Nirvana, was by his side.  How appropriate that someone with that beautiful name was praying by his bedside when he went home.  Laura and I returned to Hospice House and stood at the door as John's body was taken away.  When someone passes away at Hospice House, their body is washed with lavender water and the body bag is wrapped in the quilt that was on the person's bed.  The staff forms two lines at the front door and a bell is rung three times, saying good-bye and God speed.
It is over.  John is finally at peace...And I have been truly loved and blessed by a great man...Once again, I thank you...Nancy.

And Still It Goes...

The home telephone never rang last night.  So I called Hospice House this morning before getting out of bed to get a status report on John.  I was sad to hear that he is still breathing, albeit in short gasps.  There is no response, no sign of life other than his irregular pulse and his breath.
Before all of this started way back in January of last year, I was in favor of physician-assisted suicide in cases of terminal illness.  And I am affirmed in that belief.  However, John never made those same beliefs clear when it came to himself.  He was most clear on his wishes to withhold life support, including fluids and nutrition.  Unfortunately his body was so healthy...other than the bloody cancer...that his heart keeps beating and his organs keep functioning; with the exception of his kidneys which have greatly diminished in their output of urine.
So here I sit with Laura by John's bedside.  We've tried prayer, having a minister bless John, beg, threaten, released a balloon to the heavens...Nothing seems to help him.  I've asked John to open his heart to the love that is all around him; to reach his hand to those who will welcome him Home.
I love John Grigsby.  I ask God to love him, too...My thanks to you for your support and prayers...Nancy

Friends

Last night I called Laura, our neighbor and friend from our Bothell neighborhood, and asked if she would come spend a night or two with me.  True to form, she dropped everything, called work to say she would not be in for a couple of days, and came to Hospice House where we both spent the night with John.  (Granted there was time when this sleeping arrangement might have raised some eyebrows.  But Laura's a true friend who is not worried about her reputation.)  I was originally planning to go home last night, but around 10:00 we decided to stay.  And another friend of John's -- one of his wine buddies -- Alan French came from Ferndale prepared to sit the night with John as he thought I would not be here.  What a wonderful, kind gesture...And what wonderful friends John and I have!
John's night was spent with cheyne-stokes respiration and congestion settling into his lungs.  This morning, as Laura, the cats and I sit by his bedside, we are all praying that God will take John home now.  I sense the loving presence of others who have walked this path before John, waiting to welcome him.  So I'm asking all of you to pray, meditate or reflect that John will let go of his tired body and go to prepare a feast for us all that will be ready for us to share when our time comes.  There is strength in numbers...Let there be strength in prayer.  We are all better people for having walked this terrible journey together.  But we are also better people for having had John in our lives.  Once again, I thank you all for your help and I thank God for friends...Nancy

Help Along the Final Journey

Today John and I decided that it would be best for him to accept an additional drug:  Versed (prounounced ver-said).  This drug is used to produce sleepiness and is commonly used for outpatient procedures such as colonoscopies.  It also allows patients to forget unpleasantness or discomfort.  And it is used to assist terminally ill patients cope with the anxiety and pain that is sometimes associated with death.  The medication is administered via a picc line which is inserted midway up his right arm towards his collar bone.  This picc line does not invade as far as his previous chemo lines did.  Those went into his chest cavity near his heart.
John is now, basically, unresponsive although he did "wake up" when nurses changed his position earlier this evening.  I, along with his brother Ray, were with John during the picc insertion and I received one last gift.  John gently pulled me towards him, kissed me and his last words were, "I love you."
This journey has been life changing, horrible, spiritually awakening and extremely personal.  Everyone will travel their final steps in their own way and those accompanying the traveller with cope differently, too.  I have been told that I am "strong" and that some friends are "proud of me."  That is wrong.
All I have done, and hope that I can continue to do, is love my husband and honor to the best of my ability the vows I made on the day we married.  If I have appeared any way more than that, it is only because of the love and support from all of you.  When the time comes for you to take this final journey, if I can offer a hand, a kind word of support, or a shoulder to cry on then all of this has had some merit and I will be able to justify John's death.  For now I can only say thank you to all of you...And now we wait...There are no words to express my sorrow or gratitude.  Please know you are in my heart always...Nancy

Agitation

I got a call from Kari, one of John's nurses, this morning saying that John had a "rough night" last night.  He was more confused, more agitated and was asking for me.  She suggested that I might want to come in with the cats for a night or two to help him get through this "phase."  I understand that this "phase" is a normal part of the dying process.  So here we are.
John has been getting continual medication for both pain and nausea.  He has had nothing to eat for almost two weeks now; only water and his requests for that is diminishing.  One of his meds (Lorazapam) combats nausea but also makes you sleepy, and they've upped the frequency of his dosage.  As a result, it has been suggested that -- because of his growing confusion and agitation, as well as increased pain -- they might switch out to a medication that would be more sedative.  So John may not be as awake or as aware very much longer.  But I know he would not want to be in pain, physically or mentally, and I don't want him to suffer any more than he already has.  We'll see how tonight goes and judge from there.
Growing up we all heard stories about Mr. or Mrs. So-and-So whose spouse was ill for a lengthy time and they literally spent all their time either taking care of that person or at a hospital bed side.  I can remember my parents saying, "I just can't imagine how they can do that."  Well, I still can't imagine how they could do it either.  All I know is that you just DO it.  Those little words that we say when we get married, "For better or worse; for richer for poorer; in sickness and in health..." are just words that we have to say in order to be married.  We don't REALLY think about what we're saying at the time.  If I knew then what I know now, I would have really meant what I said.  "In sickness and in health..." I'd do it all again, for John.  With God's help, with the care of the totally amazing staff at Whatcom Hospice House, and with your love and support...That's how I'm doing it...Thank you...Nancy

Broken

I'm sitting in bed at nearly 10:00 p.m.  I want to update this blog, but I want to update with something positive.  Okay...
Yesterday John was fixated on numbers.  Don't ask me why, but I'm sure it's the morphine coupled with the dying process.  He wanted 28.
I asked, "Twenty-eight what?"
"Just 28," he slurred back.
"Well," I prompted, "what does 28 mean?"  John replied, "It's the winning numbers."  So I ventured further.
"Do you know what the numbers 2-6-8-2 mean?"
And then, quite lucidly, John said, "Those are the happiest numbers of my life."
Those numbers correspond to our wedding date.
For that little spark of reality, I am grateful...Tomorrow marks (I think) six weeks in hospice.  I didn't think John would be there more than three or four.  God asks much sometimes.  I hope I won't disappoint Him.  My love and thanks to you all...Nancy.

Valentines

I arrived this morning to find Alan French, one of John's wine tasting buds, visiting and John quite awake.  Although John was awake and talkative, what he was talking about didn't make much sense.  As of yesterday, all of his meds are now via his "sub Q" lines (under skin) as swallowing, particularly pills, is becoming very difficult.  He is able, however, to have sips of water.  He has not had anything to eat for about 10 days.  So lack of nutrition and the cancer itself is affecting John's "reality."
Sometimes it's easy to go along with what John says; to agree with him or offer a solution to an imaginary problem.  Other times, I have to leave the room and collect myself in the little chapel room here at Hospice House.  I am 100% convinced that we made the right decision to have John come here instead of returning home.  Our house, OUR home, can remain just that:  home.  Not a hospital or nursing home.
It's been well over a month since I've been home with the kitties.  They bring me great comfort, even when Token wakes me at 4:00 a.m. with his occasional nightly prowls around the house.  I know I will be okay. I know I have friends nearby.  And I know I have you all, walking this path of life with me, caring for John.  So I start another day at Hospice House.  You are all sitting with me in my heart, loving John and praying for peace soon...Once again, I thank you...Nancy.

Pain Control

There's not much to report.  John continues to change and his pain is increasing.  As a result, his morphine has been increased and that means he's sleeping even more.  He's awake very sporadically, is able to communicate on a very limited basis (yes/no answers and a faint, breathy "I love you") and that's about it.
Ray, John's brother, came up yesterday and stayed overnight.  We had lunch/dinner ("linner?") this afternoon.  I think it's the first time in 30 years that Ray and I have spent any time together one-on-one.  It was really nice.  I have empathy for him...He's lost his mom, dad and now his brother in less than five years.  That's a lot for anyone.  Fortunately he has a wonderful wife and extended in-law family who think think the world of Ray and will continue to be a great support for him.
I keep praying for a peaceful end to John's journey.  It's time.  It's PAST time.  I find it hard to trust in God, or "the Powers That Be," sometimes.  But trust and faith are what carry us through.  That and the love of friends and family...And I am fortunate to have lots of that...Love back to you all...Nancy

You Look Familiar, But...

I arrived at Hospice House a little later than usual today. Housecleaners Samantha and Beth were scheduled and I stayed home to let them in and to put the kitties in "lock-up" in the studio. When I walked into John's room he was sleeping. So I quietly put my backpack, coat and purse on the daybed...which of course woke him up. He looked at me with a quizzical look on his face, not smiling at me like he usually does. I sat on the chair next to the bed, took his hand and said hi...No reply or look of recognition. I asked, "Do you know who I am?". A slight head shake and I answered, "I'm Nancy...Your wife.". And then the light came on in his face and he knew me.
And so it finally happened. I knew this day would come and yet I had hoped John wouldn't make it this far. I feel that I'm ready for John to die. But I also know that, when the time comes, I'll want to scream, "Not yet!". I hope that when my time comes, I'll see John but not have that "you look familiar, but" experience. I would not want to break his heart.
And so we go onward, with God's help and your love...Thank you for it all...Nancy

Small

I arrived in John's room this morning and found him sleeping peacefully.  But I was struck by the realization of how small he is.  And it made me so sad.  I want to remember John the way he was; my gentle-faced, blue-eyed, handsome husband and friend who always made me feel loved...a man who believed in me like no one else...the man who would envelope me in his arms and make the world go away.
I so miss our evening dinners at home.  That was my favorite time of day.  I always had a good home cooked meal (well, OK, maybe too much meal sometimes).  We would have a glass or two of wine and share our day's events at the dining table.  Sounds kind of like the '50's, doesn't it?  Well maybe it was, but it was the best.
I often wondered if I did the right thing by leaving the "corporate world" those many years ago.  But I believe, and John always said, that our quality of life was better for it.  I have had the best life, creating a home for the two of us and branching out into art and teaching.  No matter what I did, John was my biggest fan.
I hope to continue with the art and teaching workshops.  I owe it to John to do my best...to live the rest of my life in a way that would honor him and make him proud.  I am a better person, a better woman, for having shared my life with this most wonderful man.  He has been my gift from God and a friend to you all...And so we continue for one more day...Nancy

Anniversary

Today is our 30th Anniversary.  And a quiet day for visitors which is good and bad.  Good because the quiet after a busy weekend allows John some rest.  Bad because I find myself looking at the clock and reflecting on what John and I were doing at the same time 30 years ago.
February 6, 1982 was a gloriously sunny day...much like today but there was not a single cloud in the sky. On that day, my mom told me of an old saying, "Happy the bride the sun shines upon."  It must be true.  I have been the happiest bride for nearly all of these 30 years.  The only hard times have been this past year of cancer and, now, watching John slip away.
He's experiencing more confusion and hallucinations.  Nothing frightening though, thank goodness.  And he's sleeping almost all the time.  But as I watch John's chest rise and fall with each breath I catch myself praying, "Dear God, let this be his last one," offered both in hope and fear.  And I keep waiting for that sense of others gone before who have come to bring John the peace he so deserves.
As I recite "The Lord's Prayer" and get to the part "...Thy will be done," I continually beseech God to let my will be His.  But it doesn't seem to work that way.  I must continue to try to adopt the virtue of patience.  I must have patience with God and myself.  I must trust to God's will and to the love and friendship of those who have come with us thus far...I thank you...Nancy

The Journey Is Nearing an End

Today brings bigger changes for John.  He's experiencing more moments of confusion and it's become very difficult for him to talk.  Everything from raising his hand to scratch his head to focusing on conversation is evidently more and more challenging.
Arrangements have been made and all is in place, including John's acceptance of the next phase of his life. I will keep you all posted...Our journey together is coming to an end, mercifully but with great sadness.  John touched so many people in his life:  his tackle and fishing customers at Sports West; his fraternity brothers at WSU; his friends throughout life; his customers and co-workers at Haggen; neighbors; family; but, especially, me.  We are all better people for having had "Hon" in our lives...Thank you...Love to you all...We go forward together...Nancy

Birthday

Today is my 56th birthday.  And, like last year's, it is an extremely difficult day.  Our 30th Anniversary is this coming Monday.  People have said to me, "You're so strong..."  Well I tell you, I'm broken.
John was in hospital on New Year's Eve.  If I had heard one more, "Happy New Year!" I would have "gone postal" right there on the third floor of St. Joe's.  Event days, like birthdays and special holidays, are impossible to ignore yet excruciatingly painful to recognize.  I did go out for lunch today with friends, Jerry and Geri Hill -- yep, they're married and share a somewhat common name...no excuse for forgetting either one's moniker -- which got me outside on a beautiful, sunny day.  But I'm afraid I was not the best company for the Hills.  Thankfully they are good people and good friends.
I don't know why good people like John have to suffer.  Nor do I know why reasonably good people like myself have to get dragged along.  All I know is if anything, ANYTHING good comes out of this hell it has to be the realization and appreciation of the goodness in people.  I truly don't know how I am getting through all of this without the loving support of friends and strangers who have come on this journey with John and I.
You've been praying for John all these long months.  I'm asking that you say one for me.  I am so very weary and I long for peace, both for myself and for John.  Your prayers mean the world...With loving thanks...Nancy

Happiness

John had a few visitors today:  my mom and dear family friend, Joe Macri; Michael from Haggen; and Jerry Ernster.  Also a couple of friends from one of John's wine tasting groups, Bob and Jenise Stone (I hope I spelled Jenise correctly!) came by while John was napping and brought me dinner of smoked salmon and some broccoli/bean salad.  Thank you!  Much better than the frozen pizza I had planned to nuke this evening.
We also had a visit from Muriel Ferguson, a chaplain from St. Joseph's Hospital who we have come to know throughout this last year of cancer treatment.  She wanted to talk to John about "spirituality."  Not religion or faith, but "spirituality."  She asked John about his values.  He replied that to him, honesty is what matters most.  Always tell the truth.  And do your job -- deliver on your word.
She also asked John if he felt that he had accomplished his goals in life.  Without hesitation he said, "Yes." When Muriel asked in what way, John replied, "I've had this wonderful woman in my life."  And he looked at me.  That, my friends, is pure happiness.  I am honored and blessed to have mattered that much to  the most wonderful man in the world...May each of you experience such happiness in your life...And the journey continues...Nancy

More Gradual Changes

I've "checked in" for a couple of nights with the cats in John's room.  He's always glad to see Abigail and Token (and me, too, I think), and Token literally revels with all the attention.  It only took about 15 minutes for word of their arrival to get out before his fans started dropping by to marvel at the "Amazingly Handsome Token" and pay a courteous nod to sister Abigail.
John's kidneys are slowing down in their urine output, which I believe indicates the beginnings of renal failure.  Don't know how long this will go on; it's in Hands far greater than any one's here.  John's eating and fluid intake has also decreased.  As of 3:30 this afternoon, he has eaten one canned apricot and one canned prune accompanied by about 1/2 c of water for the day thus far.
I wish I had some great words of wisdom to impart or a witticism to lighten your hearts.  I'll just, once again, say thank you for the visits, the cards, the prayers and positive thoughts.  And from John, Abigail, Token and myself...we send you love...Nancy