jim and fred

Yesterday was an emotionally draining day.

I made my mid morning visit to Jim. He was too warm (cancer seems to disturb his ability to stay comfortable). He was not wearing his PJ bottoms and his catheter bag was blood red. I was a bit frightened by that.

In early afternoon, we went to Fred’s funeral, Miriam and I. Maybe a third of the people there had known Fred since our days in high school fifty some years ago. I had a good visit with Fred's brother who remembered me from our childhood years.

Fred was a funeral director who had attended thousands of funerals. He had been the steady hand for the families and the communities he served. He also learned to dislike traditional funeral music. When we came into the church, the pa system was playing country western religious music, later we had “When the Saints Go Marching.” Not your regular stuff.

On the way home we stopped to see David who had just gotten out of the hospital. He was in good spirits and seems to be healing nicely. While there I checked my voice mail and found a plaintive message from Jim.

“Dave, if you can come see me, I have an emergency.” His bleeding had intensified and had stained the couch he was sitting on. He pulled out the catheter to see if that might help (Jim was a contractor, not a medico) and blood intensified.

No one was available, he was alone. His calls went no where, no one answered. In desperation he called me, and I was at Fred’s funeral. By the time I returned his call, his wife had come home from work and was with him. "Do you want me to come over?" Yes. "Could I get a bit of lunch and make it in an hour?" Yes.

So after a quick lunch (we eat at 4 pm) we went back to Jim’s.

His hospice nurse was there. Bruce is a very bright, very capable man who really understands this stuff. The van from the hospital equipment company was there also, putting up a hospital bed in Jim’s front room. Jim had to have an exam and asked me to go in the other room (I gladly took Miriam with me and went into the kitchen).

I got to empty his urinal, blood and all. It was not a comfortable moment, but it dawned on me that I am getting my training for dealing with Miriam by helping a wee bit with Jim. I have seen my own blood (worked around sharp knives for a living) but seeing others has always made me ill. but I am learning.

The hospice nurse spent a lot of time with him. “Death is not imminent” he told Jim and Dot. Jim, my friend (I thought) you have to suffer more, durn it.

We came home to a cold house and a barking dog. It had been a long day.