Jon was born in Philadelphia.
Maybe South Philly.
He was the youngest. The smiley streetwise little brother.
Things weren't good financially, so Jon figured out what time to be at which house for dinner, where he was always welcome.
School wasn't much fun, but he went. Graduated high school.
Eventually wound up in the service. Did his time and joined the rest of the world.
He liked to play with cars and things mechanical. He eventually bought a small plane and flew, because he liked to. One day, during a bad storm, the plane blew over. That was the end of the plane.
He lived in a house that was the most original place anybody had ever seen. It was in the midst of repair. No one knew how long it was in the midst of repair, but it wasn't polite to ask. It was the kind of place in which a large tree growing in the middle of the living room and exiting via the roof would not be surprising. Jon liked it.
Jon got into jewelry repair and worked in an area known for it. He worked with his big brother, who also had interesting hobbies. He did not have a plane, but he probably had a 1954 Chevy around the back of his house. That would be his beater - there were exotic cars, but no one knew exactly where.
One day Jon was at work and She walked in. He got hit broadside. Love at first sight, or close enough. They were married soon after. They were the perfect couple.
Not everything was magic... he walked into a brick wall called her kids. The kids tolerated or liked him, but didn't take kindly to direction. Especially the oldest, who got downright mean if he felt there was cause for it. And there was frequently cause for it.
Years went by. The marriage was happy. They were meant to be together. There were external issues, but they rose to every occasion. Jon did his best with the kids, and they eventually became a whole family, including the oldest.
More years went by. The kids moved out, married, had kids of their own. Jon was a born grandparent, as was his wife. They were all very close and saw each other often. They got a little dog, Jon Jr. They loved that little guy. He was some breed that was known for upset stomach, so she made him chicken and veggies every day. The kids joked that the dog ate better than most people. When Junior passed, they were devastated.. so much so that they couldn't adopt another one, for fear of losing him too.
As they got up in years, his wife got confused. She wound up in a nursing home, with old and sick people. Jon spent every day with her. She was his, and they made a vow to always be there for each other. He would not hear of missing a day. The kids showed up frequently too, bringing sweet stuff and ice cream. It was a party. Even her roommate became a member of the family. As if by miracle, she healed enough to go home. Happiness graced the couple during their retirement years.
Things began to spring a leak when it was discovered Jon's wife was pretty confused and not well, and Jon was doing most of the housework for her. He covered it very well. They covered for each other.
The kids were concerned, but weren't told the entire truth. Jon got a diagnosis of diabetes and was told it would be really helpful if he lost some weight. And lose some weight, he did. The kids thought he lost too much. He was happy because he was 'no longer diabetic.'
After about a month of people telling him he looked bad, he finally agreed to get checked out. He started to slur and called for a ride to the hospital. The oldest took him because when he looked at Jon, he was horrified by the droop on one side of his mouth. Top speed to the emergency room, which also didn't have a plane, but did have a heliport. He walked in the door, albeit slowly.
They poked, they prodded, they xrayed, they sampled.
He had a stroke. Or four.
He was fully lucid and healed pretty quickly. He went home to his wife's care. Again, they were happy. Sort of. The kids showed up on schedule, to help with special food and medicine, because his wife was having trouble and no one wanted to see her mixed up and making mistakes.
After a while it became apparent that she couldn't handle it, even with the kids coming by daily. The kids were worn out too. They found a great rehab place, where he'd stay for a short while, til he was well enough to go home.
The kids got a call from rehab, telling them they found Jon on the floor, got him to bed, and called 911 to get him to the same hospital. Back at the hospital, everyone visited. They had to pick Mom up because she couldn't drive.
The fall on the floor was another stroke, but the kids suspected Jon was out for a walk when it hit. Strokes don't tend to levitate the patient and deposit him on the floor. Jon's body took it hard. The right side didn't have a lot of movement, and his speech was affected, but he was still there.
Tests were run. The results came back quickly but unofficially.. Jon's strokes were caused by the cancer, which was spread out all over his body.
All of the sudden, every one of his symptoms made sense.
The family and extended family were devastated. They had a conference with some hospital staff, who very politely told them that there was absolutely nothing that could be done. Palliative care in a hospice was recommended. He'd have his good days and bad days but they were numbered.
The older son sat in on the conference from his office.
The worst sound I ever heard was my mother crying when they told her. She lost her first husband, my father, to cancer, many years ago. That still haunts the family to this day. Mom said Jon will be buried next to Jon Jr, to keep him company.
80 years young, with no serious health problems. You wouldn't know he was 70. He sawed off tree limbs over the summer.
The family is together now, trying to support Mom and each other. Making plans. This is made much worse by her increasing confusion. Jon will be pain-free for as long as he lives. He responds to people, struggles to say hello, and sleeps a lot. He keeps trying to pull out any tube attached to him - not as a statement, but in a childlike way.
There is family to notify. There is trying to figure out how to help her best.
When asked about significant events in his life, Gregg Allman said he took a lot of drugs and married a lady named Cher. He wouldn't recommend either.
Upon consideration, losing a parent is too much for words. I wouldn't recommend it.
Dear Jon,
Although we didn't get along at first and I was a right bastard, we figured it all out and got along well. I explained electronics, you explained what just happened to my house and fixed it.
I may be an oddball, but you tolerated me well.
I learned about being a good, responsible person from you. So you're kinda responsible for how I turned out. If you could stick around for another 20 years or so, that would be appreciated. Nobody would know you were 100. And I'd have somebody to cut tree limbs. I'm sure as hell not going up there.
Following are the events post diagnosis
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The hospital is giving us slightly less than gentle hints to make a choice on hospice. If they tell us Friday, do they expect everything to be done Saturday? You can't get anything done in a hospital on weekends - imagine a hospice.
Hospices cost money.
Up to $450 a day locally.
Insurance picks up medical, but the patient pays for the bed.
Every part of the medical system is whacked.
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I didn't expect pain. Not the obvious pain.. the lethargy and assorted pains here and there. I am not interested in moving at all, even when I have to. They tell me it takes its toll on your body.
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The hospital went less gentle, popping by to tell us we had 2 hours to make a hospice decision or he'd go to the closest facility with a bed available. This is what the medical system hath wrought.
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The hospice that had beds open wouldn't accept him.
The second hospice, who told us they'd accept him, wouldn't accept him.
The $450/day place will take him. I wonder why....
Looks like we're down to one, and we have no answer either way from them.
Because there's now a fever, the hospital kept him another day, and started morphine.
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Mom made all sorts of references to hospice and keeping him free of pain in front of him. We were told and we agreed not to say anything. He can hear. He can either speak a bit or move his arm or face to get his point across. He sleeps most of the time.
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The hospice has finally been decided. And when I say decided, the social worker said it will be the last one on our list. Still, it beats the ones that didn't make the list. It's also pretty close, which is a great thing. I can't speak directly for him, but I'm pretty sure he wouldn't want people to go out of their way. Who knows what he's thinking...
Irony: we looked at this place for my mother, when she needed assistance.
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Oops. The call came in that there would be no hospice move. They were moving his room to a quiet floor. He was somehow spared this.... perhaps because we were told 'a couple of hours to a couple of days.' He gets regular morphine and appears quite comfortable. He wasn't awake the entire evening.
It occurred to me that he is finally living out his fantasy: undisturbed sleep, combined with mad snoring and nobody to tell him to shut up. It was the only time I was ever happy to hear snoring.
The family continues to be with him. He'd be pissed if he knew we were bringing in food and he wasn't getting any. Good wishes come in from everywhere. The staff is wonderful. Visiting hours are 24. Since this is 2019, everybody brought phone chargers... except Mom, who would gladly launch her phone through the locked window. Now we know where I got it...
We just hope he's comfortable.
All of the cliches apply: show people you love them, show them you appreciate them, keep the family and friends together, and drop the petty bullshit. In the end, nothing else matters.
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There is another valuable lesson for us: Stuff.
There is a lot of Stuff here and there that my dad collected. Excuse the obvious, but he's leaving with none of it.
If you collect Stuff, hoard Stuff, or regularly use Retail Therapy<tm>, this is a tremendous lesson. None of us will learn from it, but it's a great opportunity.
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A close relative came to visit. Not only is she losing Dad, her husband is far into dementia, a fact we didn't learn til today.
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TIP: you cannot micromanage a dying person.
If his temperature or movement is different day to day, it is not a sign.
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The call came from a family member. He went to visit and Dad had expired just before.
There was no surprise, but nothing helps you in the moment.
Does it help to know he had a decent life? Does it help to know he was not afraid and saw it as just another step? Maybe. Maybe not.
Does it help Mom?
She looked hollow as she entered the hospital room.
She said what she needed to say and we all left, some holding others up.
I sat there, with a bunch of family in the room, and I could sometimes hear silence; except for the sound of the room's air conditioning.
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There is a ceremony coming up.
Mom said it was to be more of a celebration.
Due to the wrong people working on the arrangements, it's turning out to be wrong to everybody but the wrong people working on it.
I'm saying this to warn you, in case you didn't already know..
If you, your family, and/or others have to make decisions and plans, you're going to have problems. Within any group, things are going to get tense. Make that group a nice family that gets along well, and the nice people will wind up at each others' throats. Nobody set out for this. The pressure gets to you. There are no magic words, except for the unfortunate sports metaphor: keep your eye on the ball. It's the only reason some of us will be in the same room with others.
This is the final event. And it's at least two events too many.
I wonder what it's like, wherever Jon went. I told him to bring back stories.
I think if he were aware of what happened after he left, he'd be sad and embarrassed. I suspect his only worry was his wife. He doesn't have to worry - we promised we'd take care of her.
I hope this is my last entry. Or maybe I'd rather there be more...
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