THE SIGN FROM BIRD

Bird

My son, Bow, sat at his uncle Bird’s side and promised him that he would look out for me. Bird tightly squeezed his nephew’s hand – he had heard and understood. Even more important, he trusted that Bow would do as promised. Within a few minutes of my son’s departure, on October 14th, at 2:05 AM, my brother sighed twice then crossed over. I realized that Bird really meant what he had told the nurses and his friends. In spite of my repeated assurances that I would be okay, he had been hanging on because he was worried about leaving me alone here.

I waited beside him for the six hours I wanted before the medical team came to remove the empty body which had housed such a beautiful soul. I followed them to the hospital to numbly sign the necessary documents, then returned home. My children and older grandchildren began to arrive. I spent the rest of the day surrounded by love and support from those who cared deeply not only for me, but for the uncle they could never forget.

I refused my son’s offer to stay over with me. All I needed was sleep, I assured him. After bestowing many hugs and kisses, my family prepared to leave. As I was walking my Japanese daughter-in-law, Yoshiko, to the door, we paused a moment beside my brother’s bedroom. Both the lights and television he had kept on for 24 hours a day were turned off. The room was dark and silent but, as Yoshiko noted, it didn’t ‘feel empty’. I hugged her gratefully – so I wasn’t the only one who sensed that!

During one of our many discussions, Bird had expressed skepticism in my beliefs of ‘the next step’. We decided that, if it was at all possible, he would give me a sign that he had arrived and was well. I had total faith that I would receive his sign; I just didn’t expect it so quickly.

Something caught my eye as I passed Bird’s bedroom door on my return to the kitchen. His blue, pencil flashlight, still on the portable table beside his bed, was glowing. I slowly entered the room and picked it up. I wasn’t seeing things – it was turned on. The room had been in total darkness when Yoshiko and I had paused beside it just a few moments ago.

Still holding the flashlight, I sank to the edge of his bed and reached out to rub my hand over the blankets. They felt warm under my palm.
“This is your sign, Bird?” I asked aloud. There was no verbal reply, but the loving embrace floating around me was so sweet that it brought tears to my eyes…and joy to my aching heart.

Trust Bird to find a way. He was telling me that all was well and, because I couldn’t help but add a human element, he was also conceding that, this time, his sister was right.

I know he was watching as I blew him a kiss, and I’m sure he answered my SMILE.

Luv from the Bush in Quebec.

NOT SO GOOD...

The Bird, with Fran
When I got my e-mail from Kilroy, asking to please take time to let him know what was going on, I realized how long it has been since I had last posted.

The past few days have been rough. A week ago Friday, I woke to sounds of Bird wandering around in the house. The noises of his slippers scuffing over the wood floors didn’t ring right – he wasn’t just going to the bathroom, but moving back and forth every which way. He was extremely agitated, and very confused. There were bags haphazardly packed and placed by the door of his bedroom. We needed to get out of here, he told me wildly. He had been looking for me, because he didn’t want to leave without me. It took a few minutes to calm him down, to explain that we were in our house, to remind him that he had moved in with me during the summer. He finally ‘came back to earth’, remembered where he was, and shook his head sadly over his antics. It was only the beginning.

We had an appointment with his doctor on Thursday, but the Bird had many such lapses before then. He was sleeping even less, or shorter periods. I had to keep my eye on him constantly when he was awake, because he would slip in and out of the present at any time. He has no recall at all of having seen the doctor, but is aware that the cancer is spreading. The doctor prescribed medication to reduce the swelling in his brain, and told me no further appointments are necessary – to call him if we needed something. Bird refused to take their test drug Tarceva, and it is as if the specialists have washed their hands of him now.

Thanksgiving Friday was a nightmare. Bird was lost, and no longer able to function. He alternated between being dozy one moment and off the wall the next. He wasn’t able to swallow, or ignored, his pain medication. This, of course, made him hyper. There was no sleep for either of us. By the time the home care nurse showed up on Saturday morning (a plus because they usually only came once a week on Mondays) it was apparent that something needed to be done, and quickly. An ambulance was called, and we went to the village hospital so that the doctor there could install butterflies on his arms and leg and prescribe liquid injections. We got back home around 6 PM Saturday night, again by ambulance.

Bird helped to care for our Mom, and remembers that the injections were the last step before she passed over. I can only guess that this is why he panicked when he saw me with the syringe in hand. He refused to take it. The patch also prescribed was in place, but had not sufficient time to take effect, so he was suffering. Even so, it took most of the night, and hours of pain, before he finally allowed me to use the butterfly for the medicine. He’s still convinced that it will hurry his end, so will take it only when his endurance gives out. The result is that he is getting just enough to keep him slightly ‘high’; sleep is still of short duration.

However…today is Thanksgiving Day….and the Bird has rallied. He’s such a tough Bird!!! Although he has eaten nothing except a couple of popsicles since Friday, he is still drinking plenty of thickened water, and both the medication to alleviate the swelling in his brain and the patch for his pain seem to be working. A relaxing sponge bath and a visit with Fran this afternoon set the tone.

Earlier this evening we sat together and chatted. He got a good laugh from the stories about his recent forays into the Twilight Zone, and promised to wake me and to take the injection if he feels pain…BEFORE he wanders around!! I tucked him into a layer of pillows with his favorite blue duvet, surrounding him with that fresh-washed smell of a blanket dried outside on the clothesline. When I bent over to kiss his forehead goodnight, he was SMILING.

Sending warm SMILES out to you also, folks, with our hopes that you enjoyed a memorable CANADIAN THANKSGIVING!

Luv from the Bush in Quebec.

TOO MUCH OF A GOOD THING? NOT!!

Photo courtesy of amzeyden in Photobucket

The terrified scream came from behind me. I whipped around, my heart in my throat. It was a young girl standing some distance away, her arms waving madly. She was staring off to her right as she screamed...and screamed again! I glanced quickly in the direction of her gaze, but couldn’t see any menace there. I started toward her – I was not without apprehension, but I was also wondering if I could help. At that very second she turned and ran blindly through the trees, her acute cries still piercing my brain. I pelted after her - fear coursing in my veins now too – and I was thinking if she would only SHUT UP, whatever was giving chase would have less chance of finding her. Of finding both of us, damnit!!

I woke with a start. Ah - it was a dream… but I could still hear her screams…for real! I groggily realized that they were coming through the baby monitor on my nightstand. It must be some horror movie playing on Bird’s TV in his room. I fumbled to turn the sound lower, but the TV volume was so loud that it was still audible even without the monitor. And she was STILL shrieking! Geez!

Bird was sleeping soundly when I stumbled into his room. The remote was lying on the bed under his hand, and I supposed he had inadvertently pressed the button to put the speakers on high. I gently disengaged the culprit and finally rid myself of that terrible racket, which had never let up. I looked at the screen. Yep, she was by a door, her face contorted in a bad rendition of terror….a grade D actress in a Grade D movie. I was really going to have a chat with my brother the next day. If his 24 hour TV was going to invade my dreams, the least he could do would be to find a movie starring Brad Pitt!

My brother and I have always enjoyed spending time with each other, and that’s a good thing. But…there can be too much of a good thing. We are both very independent souls, and each has lived alone for a long time – him even longer than me. Put two people like us in the same house on a continual basis and, no matter how many rooms are available, sparks are apt to fly now and then. They are very tiny sparks, and of short duration. We care too much for each other to ever be mean, or hold a grudge. However, we are not past taking a little light revenge now and then.

I guess I sounded somewhat b*tchy when I broached the subject the next day. I may have, in fact, referred to his beloved television as ‘that idiot box’. He listened as I ranted, then nodded, adding that his dreams were sometimes invaded too. When he smiled, I should have known it was an evil smile.

“Well,” he drawled. “I was thinking of watching the Porn Channel, but remembered the monitor was in your room….” He waited.

I sat deliberating my choices. Would I really rather dream I was participating in a “Debbie does Dallas” scenario? The bugger had won again!

“Well, at least put the remote on your table before you fall to sleep,” I countered. Then an idea. “Or the batteries may wear out…suddenly!”

“I know – and I keep some new ones stashed in my room just in case.” Somehow I knew he was telling the truth. He was smirking. I glared back at him. At a loss for words, I reverted to the standard sibling threat.

“I’m gonna kick your ass!” I declared.

He was right on cue. “Not if I kick yours first!”

And we smiled.

Luv from the Bush in Quebec.