"It is the poet's job to remember"
Gerald Stern

Saturday, August 28, 2010

A LIttle Bit About Fate

People find each other for a reason. I guess that’s fate. We all wander around bumping into and bouncing off each other. We get the answers as to why in bits and pieces, not in a Technicolor full screen version with a back story and a director's interview.


My friend Steve and I used to joke about it. We grew up two towns apart and still lived in the same place. Despite the fact that we went to lots of the same places as kids, teen-agers and adults and even knew some of the same people, we never met until we were over 50.


After he was diagnosed with Multiple Myeloma he asked if I would be his health care advocate in the event he became incapable of making his own decisions. We did it legally with all the properly executed paperwork. We talked about the things he wanted and how he felt about death and dying and we got all of that straight. What we didn't anticipate was how sick he would become and that his hospitalization would stretch to almost a year. After a couple of months he began telling the doctors and nurses to "ask Linda" whenever something needed to be discussed. I couldn't blame him, it was enough just to hang on, to deal with the sometimes daily dialysis, the pain in his back, and the very understandable depression.


Four months in, he went into the Intensive Care Unit for the first time and my schedule became daily trips to the hospital and remained so for the duration. I had to agree and sign for every procedure, bags and bags of blood and platelets, surgeries, intubations. There were so many specialists I started a list just to keep their names straight.


The important thing was that my friend was waiting each day for me to come. The ICU nurses would tell me that he would ask them throughout the day what time it was and when I would be arriving. Sometimes if he was confused from the medication, he told them that he heard my voice and that I was standing right outside his door. When his vocal chords were damaged by the intubation tubes and he was unable to talk, he would take my hand and kiss it and mouth "thank you," over and over.


There were horrible bad times when he raged and hated everyone, including me. It was so hard not to view my dear friend as hateful and hurtful, and I confess to sometimes losing that battle with myself. "Why am I doing this?" I would wonder, “the rest of my life is on hold while I take care of this person who says such mean things.” Articulate Steve knew how to say beautiful words, and could sting so very thoroughly with them as well.


But in the end there was such a peacefulness. The last time I saw him he was drowsy and smiling. “I’m sleepy,” he said, “Go home. Thank you. I love you. “


I've never regretted any of it. I would do it all over again for my friend.


This brings me back to that fate thing and why we got to know each other in the first place. He used to say to me, "I know my mother sent you." Maybe she had a hand in it. There are many things that my sweet friend did for me that made his place in my life a gift from somewhere as well, but I question nothing. Why else would we have finally crossed paths, for such a short number of years, and at just the right time?

4 comments:

  1. Okay, thanks. I can't say that fate even exists to my mind; although destiny I have not at all any problem with considering as very, very real in fact.

    This day's textual journey of your soul simultaneously at once breaks my heart, breathes life into my own soul begging for mercy in truth, as I know you personally; and what it is of that unbreakable bond of us, now strengthened daily in light of this cyberweirdness of the day effectively of our own last days of life left we have on this planet.

    Thank you so much for sharing this, at this time especially; but really, Ms. Radice, these sentiments of yours herein come at absolutely no surprise to me and prove only one thing.

    I am right about you.

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  3. Why couldn't I cry? My brother Jeff passed away, Hanukkah, 2009. Jeff was my older brother by 3 years. He suffered from one thing or another his entire life; ultimately it was liver cancer. When I read your article it reminded me of my experiences on night shift duties with him as he lay dying and then after his passing, right up until a few days ago. When on duty night shift, I was using my PC for writing to friends with updates. I had to periodically dose him with morphine and water; lots of water. My hero was shriveling down to nothing. When I awoke in the hotel after a week of this,I called over to his home where my wife was helping my sister in law and I heard the words, "He's gone."
    Our family, not religious, Jewish in name only really, gathered around his bedside and said the only prayers we knew by heart which ironically included Jesus' "The Lord's Prayer".
    He was finally at peace after a life of suffering. What fate, what cosmic card game gave him such a suffering hand? I was a bit upset with God but knew, somehow, God would not answer to me, nor answer me.
    And I wondered why I felt numb...this was my best friend, after all.
    Three days ago, 8 months later, we moved the last things out of my brother's house for my sister in law and we had a spat; tempers flared over a deadline... I felt horrible for arguing with her since I love her so much. I went directly home to transfer my brother's PC files over to my sister in law's laptop; photos, word files etc. and I came across a letter with my name on it. It was a letter announcing to me that my brother was going to become a Southern Pacific engineer after 30 years in the insurance business. He always loved trains as a kid. Then I saw his photo, sitting in the engineer's seat in a huge locomotive, beaming. And then I started to cry, as tears are welling up in my eyes right now. It was his fate not to be able to have any of his dreams realized n this life and it broke my heart.

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  4. Sorry for the length:
    Pt. 2
    It took me 8 months to cry. Another thing occurred to me: I understood why I could not cry for 8 months... It was my fate to be strong, a rock, give advice, stick to a schedule in dissolving her estate to help get my sister in law situated into a new place. No sooner than the task was completed; then, whammo, I finally gushed like Old Faithful.
    For some, death is the final frontier; to others, nothing; to others heaven or hell and to others, rebirth. For me, I am optimistic and believe we do not just go out like a blown out match. I believe our collective life's experiences go with us somewhere in the form of energy and we'll have a face to face with the creator. This is a fate I look forward to. For I also think, that I shall see my brother again...this is my hope and I hope this is my fate.
    Thanks Linda

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