Death, Dying, Caregiver and Patient Thoughts

Three of my oncologists and my family doctor have all suggested going from palliative care to hospice. My unique sense of humor found that hilarious. Two weeks ago when I asked my life expectancy, they said I had a 10% chance of making it five years. I realize they don't have a crystal ball to give me exact date and time; but it seems there is such a disparity between the two weeks pronouncements.  Since the oncologists make their living with cancer patients, and my main oncologist does mostly liver cancer, it seems experience would have him able to say I have months or years left. It would be nice to know more so I could plan a budget so something is left for my progeny and it doesn't all go to the medical team and hospitals. I do know that God knows how long - so I guess that's good enough for me.

I've been thinking of the responsibilities of the caregiver vs the responsibilities of the patient. My sister has agreed to be my caregiver and person to make decisions when I no longer can. I sit here with tears because I had no idea how much compassionate responsibility this would be for her and how challenging it is for her - and for me to see her struggling emotionally and spiritually with my demise (whenever that is). I hate the pain this is causing her. That hurts more than the cancer. As a Christian, I pray God uses this for her her good. I rely on "All things work together for good to those who love God..." in Romans 8:28. I'm so grateful she came to Christ I think 13 years ago. Now she's my double sister: genetic and spiritual.

We're both trying to make this easier for each of us as we discuss my future demise. It is growing us closer together in a way that is God-sent and I am grateful for that.  I'm so grateful for "Five Wishes" program that in this state is a legal document that  makes my wishes known so family will have a blueprint to know what I desire. You can read more at www.fivewishes.org - I'd highly recommend friends my age consider doing this long before you have a terminal diagnosis; so you can talk about this with your loved ones without the added burden of emotions associated with a loved one's palliative care making it harder. 

I have a US/Florida Five Wishes almost finished, my DNR (do not resuscitate order is signed and filed with my doctors and hospital), my eco-friendly or natural burial and graveside funeral-ette are being planned before my brain gets to foggy to do it and I'll need to pick my hospice facility eventually. I've lived a simple life, and want a simple send-off. I'm fortunate that Gainesville has an eco-friendly cemetary; where my corpse will have a tree planted on top of me and my remains will fertilize that plant.   

Here's a quote from Carlos Castanada in "Journey to Ixtlon" that touched me deeply when I read it a few years ago and compelled me to change my mind from cremation to a natural burial:

He explained that a man who gathers plants must apologize every time for taking them and must assure them that someday his own body will serve as food for them. “So, all in all, the plants and ourselves are even,” he said. “Neither we nor they are more or less important.

Except for my will; the other documents have been or are being discussed with my sister. Are my wishes something she would be comfortable fighting for when I can no longer be proactive for myself? If there are things repugnant to her, then my prayer is that we can discuss them now and make compromises so both of us have some comfort and some discomfort.  No man/woman is an island; and I try to keep that primary as I move forward. We are unique sisters, but even during these emotional discussions - we have found things to laugh about. Maybe I can laugh about them because I see death more of a spiritual exercise to bring me closer to the Father, then preparation for a physical end. I know I'll go to heaven - not because of me but because of God's grace - and I know He's promised when there's a new heaven and new earth I will have a new body.  Plus, I've had a near-death experience and I miss heaven so much. It's a yearning to return to my Creator and that wonderful peace He gives that is so awesome it can't be put into words.
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I don't remember being the class clown; but I am having fun laughing at my cancer. I mean who wants to spend the rest of their life whining and crying and regretting when I can find things to laugh about. Here's a couple of funny ones: 

A telemarketer called. I was coughing until I could hardly hear him speak. Cough out - wheeze in. Trying to find common ground, he said, "Oh, sounds like you have the same thing I had last week - it's sure nasty."  My reply: "I'm sorry you had incurable liver and lung cancer last week; it's great you can still work."  Dead silence.  He talked another few seconds, didn't try to sell anything and said good bye. Neat trick to use with telemarketers!

A thought from today: Since I have opted to not be embalmed or cremated. I wonder if I'll be sitting in heaven around Jesus feet and feel the worms wiggling around my ticklish feet on earth and I'll break out laughing. I believe Jesus would laugh with me on that. I intuit his sense of humor was part of what drew the crowds to learn from him.

And if my sister ever reads this: please think of me and say, "Beep, beep, I'm a little bread box."  It was a game we played riding in the back seat of Dad's Kaiser from grandma's house. Fond memories we both still laugh about - we can play that game together or apart - so when you miss me -- you know what game will bring us close until you turn 97 (like Mom) and join us in heaven.
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I can not put into words how much my sister's care means to me. I realize she is caregiving me, her husband who has had a stent put in two weeks ago and another one a few days ago and she is running their business during a very busy season. Yet she finds time for me. She goes to all my MD appointments to scribe and ask questions; she takes me grocery shopping or if I'm too feeble, picks up my groceries. She carries them in the house and puts them away. She adjusted my toilet riser and then hugs me and says she loves me - because she knows how frustrated I am that I don't have the strength to do what I could even two months ago. She even took my laundry from the dryer and folded it until I figured out I can sit on my roller chair and do it myself. I don't know what I'd do without her. In many ways, big sister, I grew up wanting to dress like you, act like you, be smart like you, be athletic like you, be like you and you were my hero - you still are. Thank you from the bottom of my heart. I love you more than I can put into words. 

I have the easy job: just trust God as this chapter of my life unfolds and I get to the "...happily ever after" in heaven. You also trust God; but your job seems so much harder: so much detail work to walk this path along-side me, so much balancing so many things, so much responsibility. You've cried about my health, but you've never complained or shown self-pity about your new responsibilities. You're amazing!