Cards and Letters

Ah, the power of the printed word!  Since my blog which was ported over to the Grief Center Newsletter, the calls, emails, and condolence cards have been pouring in, many with a Golden Retriever on the front.

For those that do not know, Chewie died on October 3^rd, one of the saddest days I will ever remember.  But many people I know were unaware of her passing and due to our newsletter believe that it was recent.  Believe it or not four months still feels recent.

Every member of our family stills gets teary eyed when we talk about her.  The real water works happen when others share their pet loss story, or when someone shares Chewie memories, as when my daughter presented us with one of those amazing scrap/ photo memory books of Chewie’s life for Christmas.  My five year old granddaughter brings out Chewie’s toys and draws pictures of Chewie every time she visits.  She can turn anything into a Chewie memorial and does.

I search web sites of Golden Retriever breeders looking for a puppy that is almost as beautiful as Chewie.  None have yet been found.  I know she can not be replaced, and I am beginning to look at the puppies more objectively now.  Gradually, I make progress.  Last weekend I even had the courage to call a breeder and talk about a puppy maybe this summer, though choked up when telling her about my beloved Golden.  One step back.

Am I beginning to heal?  Some days.  I still have that moment when I open the door  my mind for some reason still expects to see her lying by the door waiting, only to be reminded a fraction of a second later that she is gone.  Her picture is on the fridge and her toys are by the fireplace.  I did finally give her food away, well most of it. and I seriously hope that Rainbow Bridge thing is real.

So, thank you for all of the kind thoughts, cards, and letters.  It does not ease the pain, but it does remind me that we are one large human family that loves and cares for the other creatures of this planet, especially those we consider ours.

What has happened to health care?

The health care of the present is not your grandmother’s health care of the past.  Cancer is no longer a death sentence.  We can replace most joints.  Organs can be substituted.  There are antibiotics.  Childhood diseases are rare. Most people live well past retirement.  There are drugs to treat almost every ailment.  We have x-rays, ultrasound, and magnetic resonance to see inside the body.  The myriad of treatment options goes on and on.

Added to all of the options for treatment is insurance.  Medicare and Medicaid began in 1965.  The first employer sponsored plan was in Texas in 1929, though most employer sponsored health insurance became available after WWII, blossoming in the 1950s.  With employers covering the cost of health care it is no suprise that insurance companies formed, drugs were developed, and health care solutions were found.

Now add the regulations and complexity of the health care industry.  Accreditations, licensure, HIPPA, equipment, regulations, billing insurances, to mention a few make the cost for health care rise for providers

Fast forward to 2012, were health care is 17% of GDP.  In the US we spent 2.5 trillion dollars on health care in 2009 and the amount grows annually. We are currently spending over $8,000 per year for every man, women, and child in the United States.

Have we created a monster?  Some would say yes. We have created a complex system that our citizens take full advantage of.  We seek preventive care, we have our joints replaced, we treat our cancers, we save our stroke victims. Is there a price for this? Absolutely!  Should it change?  That is the $60,000 question.  Most of us agree that it must.  And most of us are afraid of what that will mean for us personally.  As the country with the second highest cost of health care in the world, it is likely that change is essential.

Most employers are asking their employees to pay more toward the cost of their care.  Even public employees are being asked to contribute now. Each and everyone of us is going to be impacted by the growing cost of care.  Unfortunately, most of us have no idea what our individual health care really costs.  How many can cite what their care cost last year?  I believe very few; while most of us know how much we earned last year or how much we paid for our vacation.

Are we willing to accept less care?  Should we purchase based on price and perceived quality, like all other purchases we make?  Or is health care an entitlement?  These are just a few of the questions at the center of the debate and the answers are likely as complex as the questions.  More thoughts to come.

Grieving for the Packers

My local radio station, 92.5 WBWI, launched a unique recall effort this week. Although they acknowledged and agreed that this past weekend’s Packer game was played fairly and the outcome was indeed accurate, they launched a campaign on their website and Facebook to recall the game so we could have another shot at the Super Bowl.

Many people called in and went online to add their names to the petition (it didn’t hurt that anyone who signed got a chance to win Packer tickets for next season). But I think it highlights the fact that we Packer fans were grieving this week. And this recall attempt was truly an attempt at “bargaining”—an attempt to fight for control.

We grieve for the hopes and dreams of a repeat Super Bowl and a season for the record books. And for those of us who are Wisconsin sports fans in general, it bought up the sting of the Brewers’ and Badger’s losses as well.

It’ll take awhile for the sting of this loss to wear off. Many don’t even want to speak about the game right now—too painful and incomprehensible to even talk about. Others want to rehash it and find someone to blame. Most are just plain sad.

If only we could recall the game! But I know that the sting will wear off. One caller to the radio station this week asked for the recall to include the Brewers’ & Badger’s games. The announcer stated, “Oh yeah, I forgot about those.” And in a few months, this season will be in the past and we’ll be focusing on next years potential Super Bowl worthy team! Go Pack Go!

Dress Rehearsal for Mourning

Please read the following short blog by one of my favorite bloggers, Heather Hunter aka “This Fish”:

http://thisfish.com/?p=2424

I’ve never considered the loss, or what grief counselors would probably call “anticipatory grief” as it pertains to addiction. It’s an incredibly heavy thing to think about. We don’t often talk about losing someone who might still be alive and walking the planet. I think those who lose a friend or loved one to addiction are at such high risk – because just when they might start to heal, just when life might start to feel normal again, that person can walk back in and open up the wounds.

Heather’s poetic words, “a dress rehearsal for mourning” are haunting me. This is not the attempt at joy and a celebration of life that you might get from someone with a terminal diagnosis who is preparing in a healthy way with friends and family for death. To me, this is a lonely, hopeless statement; one that makes me feel empty. I can’t imagine what it is like to watch someone you love hurt himself and not have the ability to stop, even knowing that this may kill him. And what if the addiction doesn’t kill this person? What if it just takes away everything that was vital: family, friends, career, health, compassion, talent and more? How in the world do you even try to cope with losing what is essential about a human you care about knowing that a shell of a human is walking around with that person’s identity?

I am struggling with this concept. Do any of you, our readers have experience with this? Are the losses from addiction similar to death or divorce, or is this something unique unto itself?

What Should You Say?

Image via Wikipedia

Speaking about the death of the son of one of the packer’s coaches, many newscasters this week asked the same question, “What should you say when someone loses a loved one, especially a child?”. Our first instinct is to say “I’m sorry”, but that feels inadequate. Then our next instinct is to not say anything at all. So, what should you say?

Say, “I’m thinking of you”, “I’m not sure what to say, but you are in my thoughts”, “I’m here to listen”, “I’m here for you and your family. How can I help?”, “Your loved one was very special and will be missed greatly”, “I can’t imagine what you are going through, but I’m here to support you anyway I can.”

And you don’t even need to say anything. Give a hug. Drop off a meal. As silly as it sounds, dropping off toilet paper, paper plates, kleenex, or household supplies can be incredibly helpful since the family will be busy with company and planning and may not get out of the house for these errands. Take initiative and complete a task, such as shoveling, without being asked. Most people who are grieving are not able to identify what they need help with as thier loss is so overwhelming. By taking initiative and just doing it, it can be a weight off the bereaved.

Just listen and be there. We often overlook how healing our presence can be, even if we are sitting in silence. Really listen. Don’t try to fix it or take away the pain–we can’t do that. But by listening we are helping them start to heal. Share memories of their loved one. Share how that person impacted your life.

And most importantly, know that the pain will not go away after the funeral or in a couple weeks. Continue to be there for them. Check in periodically and let them know you are still there for support.

Little Losses

Last week, I came home from working out with the personal trainer, and I bawled my eyes out. You see, I’d been working with a really great gal who pushed me hard and “got” my challenges and gave me inspiration and goals to work towards. And when I went to my session, I found out she no longer worked there. And that I would have a new trainer, who I’d never met before. 

The week before that, my parents moved from my childhood home, and my cat (who lived with them) had to be put to sleep. I spent a whole weekend holding back tears (and letting them out) and feeling a little bit empty. 

I’ve been a little bit crabby for about a month now. I mean, who gets so upset about their trainer getting a new job? 

Sometimes all of the little losses in our lives add up, making it hard to focus, and function at a high capacity. Things change, like not knowing my parents’ address by heart, knowing that this is their home, not mine, and not having my Ginger-cat ignore me as soon as I step foot in the door. And when all of those losses piled up, a seemingly insignificant loss (my trainer leaving) put me over the edge. 

There is a quote, and I have no idea who it’s by, that goes: 

Be kinder than necessary

Everyone you meet

Is fighting some kind of battle. 

In my own defense, I ask you to remember this when you’re interacting with others. We have no idea what’s going on in other people’s lives, and what might seem like “nothing” could actually be the last straw in a series of tiny losses. And don’t ignore the little losses in your life – they might catch up to you at the gym!

Dia de los Muertos

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Stop in at Horizon’s Grief Resource Center this week as we honor Dia de los Muertos. 

November 1^st and 2^nd mark the holiday of Dia de los Muertos (Day of the Dead) which is celebrated in Mexico and the southwest United States. Day of the Dead was originally an Aztec celebration. Instead of fearing death, the Aztec’s believed that death was moving on to a higher level of consciousness. Today, Day of the Dead has a mix of Aztec and Spanish influences. 

Day of the Dead is a holiday meant to honor our deceased relatives. It is believed that during this celebration, our deceased relatives are allowed to reunite with their families. Even though the body is gone, the personality remains. 

Therefore, people decorate elaborate altars with objects that represent what their loved ones liked to do, food and drinks they enjoyed, and pictures of their relatives. In addition, the altars are decorated with candles, flowers, food, toys, candies, little folk art skeletons, and sugar skulls. 

On November 2^nd, people celebrate at the cemetery where they clean the tombs, play cards, listen to music, and reminisce about their loved ones. Dia de los Muertos is a day of joy because we know that we are surrounded by our loved ones, both living and deceased. 

Stop in the Grief Center this week to add a purple heart to our Dia de los Muertos display. Purple signifies the pain or grief that we still have, the heart signifying the love we have for our deceased loved ones. Write a message to your loved one, a special memory that you have, or decorate it in honor your loved one. Then hang your heart on our Dia de los Muertos display.

‘Tis better to have loved and lost than never to have loved…

The Lord Alfred Tennyson’s famous quote has been getting me through the last few days. It describes how I feel about the loss of our beloved dog, Chewie. I never knew how painful it would be to lose her, though I am so grateful for having loved her.

 

Chewie was the first dog our family had. A beautiful Golden Retreiver who came into to our lives 13 years ago at the age of 6 weeks. We cried as she did, when we adopted her and took her from her parents and the loving breeder. She was one of nine, born of two stunning champion Goldens. She was a white puff ball, who quickly captured our hearts.

The boys named her after their favorite Star Wars character and she certainly had the coat to match. What did not match was the name. She never chewed a single item. The one time she found a baby booty from a guest, she walked up to me with it in her mouth with the, I have something in my mouth for you, “please take it” look.

She only retrieved in water, where she would retrieve a stick to exhaustion. On land not a lot of retrieval occurred. We always suspected that is was just to warm for a dog with her coat.

Our dog was more of a princess than a Chewie I believed. I often thought we named her incorrectly. She pranced on walks. She greeted each and every human or animal. No amount of training would change that. In puppy school she, unlike any other dog in class, would inch over to the nearest puppy like an excited kindergartner. On walks she owned the neighborhood. Neighbors knew us as Chewie’s parents long before they knew our names. I know that one of the reasons there are so many Goldens in our subdivision is because everyone hoped they would get a Chewie.

She truly became a member of our family. She shared all of the moments of our lives for 13 years. Wherever we were she was. Nothing got past her. If we were sick she sat by our side and she was in the mix for all of our celebrations.

She not only loved us; she loved everyone. She consistently answered our door, though never barked, because she was quite anxious to make new friends. We believe she thought Halloween was her special holiday.

Over the last year, her hearing worsened, her vision decreased, she stopped climbing stairs, much like a comparable human at her age. She lived well beyond the ordinary lifespan for a Golden. She lived a long healthy life. We took her on two final road trips this summer. She rode shotgun between us as she always did, she had her ice cream cone, she hung her head out of the window. We knew they were her last trips and Jim and I savored every moment. When she stopped walking her last three days our family provided hospice care.

Together we spent her finals days and hours and now together we grieve.

I had no idea how painful it was to lose a pet like Chewie, but I go back to the the sentiments of Lord Tennyson. My life was enriched by her presence and as difficult as it is to let her go, I am so grateful for having loved her.

Fireflies

Image via Wikipedia

There’s this blog that I read on occasion, and it’s usually about the city I love and things going on here inMilwaukee. A while back, the author, Molly Snyder, wrote about loss and how she dealt with her father’s death alongside her two sons. You can read her entire blog here: 

http://www.onmilwaukee.com/myOMC/authors/mollysnyder/isisblog.html 

This blog stuck with me, even though I read it way back when the snow was falling. Specifically this line: 

“So we ducked into grief’s dark corner and sat there, cross legged, for a while. I’m not sure for how long, but eventually, calming little fireflies blinked around our sad hearts and we all started sleeping through the night again.” 

As I sat out on my patio many nights this summer, and watched the fireflies blinking in the yard, I’ve thought about the ones who’ve influenced me most and who are gone. I think of who I am today, and wonder what they’d think about my world. I wonder if they can see me, and do watch over me. In those still moments, I like to think they are there, watching. It brings me some kind of comfort to know that they’d be proud, and would say that I was doing just fine. In those moments where one might feel lonesome, or abandoned, I like to be reminded that my connection to and my love for those people was real. 

Thank you, Molly, for reminding me to watch for those tiny flickering lights in the darkness.

Hospice is about Love

Image by micmol  via Flickr

In the documentary Serving Life, one of the hospice volunteers remarked that he always heard hospice being described as a way for people to die with dignity, but he thought hospice was more of an expression of love.

Many of the volunteers and the lead hospice nurse in the documentary remarked that hospice will change you. And the documentary showed the tremendous change and growth in morality for these volunteers.

The documentary featured a hospice atLouisiana’s maximum security prison atAngola. Since 85% of the prison population have sentences of over 95 years, most of the inmates will die in prison. The Warden of Angola prison felt that a prison should do more than teach a prisoner skills, but should also teach them morality. In an effort to teach morality, he brought a hospice program to the prison, where other inmates serve as hospice volunteers. These men are trained to care for the patients—bathing, feeding, providing friendship & support, being there to sit vigil at end of life, and cleaning and preparing the body for burial.

Some of the volunteers make it and continue to volunteer, whereas others drop out of the program. The ones that stay remarked that they felt incomplete or like something was missing on the days when they did not go to the hospice. It made me think about how special our own hospice volunteers at Horizon are—the dedication and commitment they have to our patients and the remarkable abilities they all possess.

It made me reflect on the incredible impact being on the Hospice team has on every one of us—the staff and volunteers. It made me realize what my priorities are in life. I don’t put off things I want to do or things I need to say anymore. And it bought a new level of gratitude for everyday and every person in my life. Many people assume that Hospice must be depressing, but the Hospice experience is truly about connecting to one another and living life to the fullest.

For more information about Serving Life, go to http://www.oprah.com/own-doc-club/Serving-Life-Trailer.