This past week I journeyed to Kansas City to go to Opening Day at the K with Vickie and Di. It was fun as usual and the weather was warm and comfortable if not more than a little windy. This selfie is from Mother’s Day 2013. Two months later we were living back in Lincoln. It was a nice day, but our seats were in the shade. We were cold so we left early. We had fun.
April 5, 2023
I have been pondering for over a year the action or inaction of discussing Jim’s impending death with him. It was as hard to talk about then as it is hard to think about it now.
It has seemed this year when I have had an issue I was dealing with, something came along that gave me a tiny clue how to proceed or at least the knowledge that I was absolutely not alone in my confusion or doubt. A prime example of this is the Natasia Josefowitz lecture that I stumbled upon on YouTube and her book, “How to Live Without the One You Cannot Live Without.” Her thoughts on grieving were just what I needed at the time. I thought then I was extremely lucky, but now I am inclined to believe that the Universe sometimes pays attention and gives us a little boost.
This time it was an opinion piece in the NYT by a palliative care physician, Sunita Puri. Dr. Puri is the author of “That Good Night,” a memoir about her work as a palliative medicine physician.
In the piece she discusses the doubts and reservations she had as a young doctor about discussing her patients’ impending death with them. Were they ready for the conversation? Would she upset them by bringing it up? How would they react to her question? How would she handle their reaction?
All the same questions I asked myself in Jim’s last months and all the months since.
It’s hard to talk about, even when you are in it, especially when you are in it. The conversation itself, I assume, would indicate defeat. And acknowledging defeat, even when it is very obvious, is a hard thing to do when your own or your loved one’s death is the subject. Admitting it, talking about it, what would that look like? How could it help?
I was reminded today of Jimmy’s positive attitude and how he was inclined to only share the ‘good’ bits of his test results. And how he continued to be in good spirits, at least outwardly. But Jimmy knew he was dying. He told me he could feel himself dying. What an astounding thing to have to feel or to say! And then the next day he would tell me that he was still planning on building a shed in the backyard! Acknowledgement and denial all tangled up together.
So we didn’t discuss death, although we both knew it was turning its ugly head in our direction. We were determined to look forward to a time when maybe he would feel a little better. Should we have discussed it? I still don’t know. Maybe. Or maybe it was right that we just took each day as it came and made of them what we could.