Sunday, January 23, 2011

A Quiet Day

"To bring the sublime into the mundane is the greatest challenge there is."

Pir vilayat Inayat Khan

I lie in the cot beside his bed and listening to my dad - grateful for the rhythmic breathing.
He was restless this morning with some bouts of apnea. A couple of times I had to sit up to see over the bed rail and check the movement of his chest. I figured out a way I could hold his hand through the bar. I wanted to crawl into bed with him. I wanted to hold his head in my lap and rock him. I decided it was better to let him find whatever comfort he could in the bed by himself as I'm just not sure there is enough room for both of us. Didn't know how I'd explain to the nurse that I dropped my father on the floor.

A great doctor came by today. She put dad on a morphine pump so he gets medicated on a more equal basis over the course of 24 hours - no ups and downs as the meds are injected. I think this was a good plan. He's been very comfortable.

I've been thinking a lot today about how the Divine One works miracles right in front of you but if you're not looking you might miss them. I'm not really talking about trees, or the sunrise or snow covered wonderlands though every day nature provides beautiful miracles for the taking. I'm more thinking about how you're going in one direction and suddenly there's a fork in the road and you think you're deciding which path to take, but really it's the Divine GPS that is showing you the way to go.

On Thursday when I asked for a consultation with the Hospice team doc and nurse, I kind of thought I'd need some outside help - a sitter, or nurse - to spell me. Didn't really consider inpatient as an option. I can see now why they wanted Dad to come here. He needed much more help than I could provide. I know people die at home, and I that was our intent all along. But coming here was such a blessing. Everyone is kind, gentle, compassionate and willing to take whatever measure they need to provide Dad, and me, with the comfort we seek. The cocktail of narcotics he's on seemed extreme in the beginning. But I see how peacefully Dad slumbers and I find my heart full of gratitude not regret. God knew this was where we should be. I'm really, really glad I didn't try to go my own way.

Wishing for you everyday miracles,
Merry ME


Camille Olivia said...

you know, what you're doing is also a miracle. i can't even imagine what it might be like, nor do i have any desire to (imagine it, that is). your heart is so enormous, so utterly filled with love and compassion. i think of you as an angel right here on the planet. and while your dad may be in his morphine bliss, i've no doubt he knows you're there, watching over him, loving him, soothing him with your heart. stay well, my friend. stay well and full of love. fear not the 'death' for there is no death. only another journey. arms around ya.

QnDani said...

(((Mary)))) holding you close in my heart....and so glad you are somewhere filled with love, caring and compassion - for you and your dad.

Pamela Jones said...

Mary, {{{Mary}}}
I hear such love and peace behind your words, such acceptance rather than resignation. I just know that if your Dad needs a tour guide to help him find his way home, he has one -- and she loves him like a daughter. Much strength and love to you, dear Mary!

Fire Byrd said...

I've just read your last two , and there's some things I want to say. The first relates to the last sentence in the last post, maybe you don't say goodbye, maybe you need to say thank you for being my Dad and I love you.
I say this as I was with my beloved Mummy when she died in the Hospice 24 years ago.
Just remember that your Dad knows you love him and that he loves you. It may not always have been a perfect relationship it like all relationships has had it's ups and downs, but that is life and that is okay.
You have been the best daughter you could be, even on the days when you've been bad.
He forgives you for the bad days just as you do him cause you love each other.
Nothing else matters love is all there is and nothing more is needed.
Stay kind to yourself at this difficult time.
And although I don't have a religious belief I'm sure your God is looking down on both of you and holding you in his love.
love from me

pattie said...

This is a gentle and loving post written from your heart...You have done a wonderful job as a caregiver..
You have been a wonderful daughter...
Be gentle with yourself...
I am holding you close to my heart tonight!