Missing the Mayhem

Putting the very best possible face on it, work is still barely controlled chaos so when Michael piles all four dogs into the old Suburban and heads to Arkansas for an overnighter, the sudden quiet is unnerving.   It takes all of twenty minutes before I miss the mayhem.   Must be some mild form of insanity, I scold myself but the stillness is difficult.  No barking, no jingling tags, no tapping toenails or ferocious battles with pull toys, no low growls as they get in each other's faces.  It's uncomfortably eerie.  Worse, it's lonely.

He's gone to see his grandmother, laying nearly comatose in an Arkansas hospital, with a freshly signed DNR order on her chart.

I don't know what to wish for,  he confesses to me uneasily, Lord knows, I don't want her to die but.......

He's thinking of the nursing home, the blank days, the pain, the dementia.  She sees things that aren't there, doesn't want to eat, is plagued with bladder infections and trouble breathing.   To keep her safe, she has to be restrained at night and is confined to a wheelchair during the day.  She's fragile, confused, needs constant care and a sitter to watch over her.  Her money's gone and though no one has told her, her family is dividing her belongings and the little house she spent all of her adult life in will soon be on the market.  There's no hope for any kind of recovery, no hope for her ever going home again.  They love her dearly and everyone wants the best for her.  No one except Michael will even say the word burden but they're all thinking it and feeling guilty and ashamed because of it.  They want it over for her and themselves and the thought doesn't sit well with their collective conscience.  It seems so dreadfully wrong and unforgivably selfish to wish her to die so in between the painful and futile visits and the caregiving, they worry, chastise themselves, and pray for strength.

She's had a good life, Michael says, sounding more than a little desperate and I wonder who he's trying to convince, A long life.

I nod and agree,

Gawd-dayam,  he adds, She's ninety eight!  Isn't that enough?

He isn't looking for an answer so I shrug.

And don't you tell me to let go and let God!  he tells me though I haven't said a word, despite the fact that it's exactly what I'm thinking.   

Two days later, the old woman rallies and testily informs a family member that when she's ready to die, she'll let them all know.  One more diagnostic test is scheduled and then she'll be released.  

Just like the dogs, I think to myself, they make me crazy when they're here but I can't stand not to have them around.

Mayhem was never intended to make sense but once you get used to it, it's hard to let it go.