a long conversation...

... with my sister in law several days ago provided interesting food for thought.

It was last January, when my brother spent about two weeks in the hospital following a very risky and unsuccessful surgery. He was diagnosed with a tumor the end of December, with plans to do surgery on the second day of the new year. He called to tell me about it, and I made arrangements to go and see him, traveling with a daughter to visit before the surgery and spend time with his family while it was underway.

Everything about it was traumatizing. The doctor was highly qualified, and very capable, part of a group of excellent neurosurgeons in Richmond. But he was unable to remove enough of the rapidly expanding growth  to feel the surgery had been a success. Tom had a really hard time getting over the effects of anesthesia as well as extensive risky surgery that removed a section of his cranium to access the spreading tumor. I think the doctor was surprised at the size, and aggressive nature of the evil growth spreading in his brain, fearful of causing more damage than good. Sewed him up and hoped he would wake after such a dramatic invasion into his head.

They decided to not pursue the misery of radiation or painful excruciating process of chemotherapy that would not actually provide resolution, but possibly extend the misery. When he was recovered from the hours-long surgery well enough to be discharged, they returned home. With visiting nurses from hospice, many loving friends to provide meals, a number of compassionate sitters.  Constant support of family and church members over those months he was at home where he wanted to be. Cared for by a loving devoted wife. Until the end.

I am sure there were times when she thought she might simply go crazy. Sleeping in a chair to be there when he awakened multiple times each night.With him at home, day after day, week after week, never more than a few steps away in the next room. Close enough to hear him when he called her name, and she would respond to his needs. Always nearby when he would call out her name. I think she told me, one of the times early last year when I went for several days, hoping to be helpful, that she had left the house maybe five or six times in that months long period. Never wanting to get out of earshot if she could do something for him.

She told me when we talked recently how surprised she was to discover all those things she and he, and they, thought so important, activities they had been involved in were no longer priorities. Things that had seemed so necessary, been of such great significance, commitments that had seemed  obligatory were of no consequence. All those events on the calendar, those dates and appointments that had been so diligently noted as crucial to their daily lives, with a change of perspective suddenly of little import.

But I do remember laughing. When he would startle awake, after dozing off in a chair, or awaken in the middle of the night: alarmed that he had some sort of 'project' he insisted he needed to get to work on. He was a chronic 'project' guy, always had a 'honey do' thing going on - things taken apart and reassembled to put in good working order. Always something he was doing for adult children: toys for grandkids, home improvement  work for adult children in their houses, things that all homeowners are constantly repairing.  Squeaky doors, leaking faucets, cluttered gutters, a handy man can always find something to occupy their time. No end to the 'projects' that need attention. He was really sick, but his mind was still so alert, busy, wheels spinning, and he would suddenly start telling us about something he had to get up and go do, some small task left unfinished he felt the necessity to finish. Not physically able to undertake anything he had going on the planning stages, but still wanting to get the job done. Never wanting to leave anything unfinished.

The conversation has left me thinking about things that I have felt strongly about, things committed to that might not be top priority right now. Making me feel I need to step back and reconsider that urge to be so dang dependable. Look at those random volunteerism projects in my life to which I devote time and attention that will either get done or not. If I don't jump in and provide the effort, either someone else will take up the slack or they won't. Not essential that the effort be mine. Just consider what is, or should be, a priority.