Monday we have a brief consultation scheduled with an attorney to find out what we need to think about with regard to power of attorney, a will, medical decisions, and every thing that goes along with setting things up before Dave isn't able to contribute to those decisions. And knowing that Dave even now wouldn't be able to handle money or deal with some every day decisions, it feels somewhat urgent to get something in place in case something should happen to me. It feels a little bit strange to be worried about the care of my husband in case of my death where for so many years my concern was only for the care of my children should anything happen to me. I guess I have never thought about who I want making those decisions if I die before Dave. In the past, I've briefly talked with the children about what the plan might be to make sure their dad is provided for and taken care of if something happened to me, but I haven't thought about "decisions" that might have to be made. I haven't given thought to the legal aspects of it. In normal circumstances, the husband would look after things when a spouse passes away. Dave will continue to need someone to look after him. He wouldn't be able to live on his own, manage money, take care of himself. I worry about the burden that places on my children. They would not shirk the responsibility, but I don't think they can comprehend what it will entail. I can't even comprehend what may be ahead for me. I can't fathom the decisions I may have to make about Dave and care he may need in the future. So to think of my children having to make that decision is mind boggling. I know people have to make these decisions every day. It is a part of life. And a part of death. It is all so intertwined. And so frightening. I'm not sure if that's the right word for it, but it's the one that comes to mind right now.
I remember so clearly when my sister had a mastectomy years ago - I was so thrown by the results - large tumor and removal of some lymph nodes - I had to run to the grocery store on the way home from the hospital after spending a large part of the day in the waiting room - and I was standing in line to purchase something - the cashier smiled and said "how are you today?" I think I answered "fine" - but my mind was screeching - how is everyone still going about their business like nothing is wrong? MY SISTER HAS CANCER! And yet life does go on. Every day I know I pass people in the halls of my work, or on the street, or in the parking lot at the grocery store who are dealing with much personal sadness and loss. And their minds may be screeching just what mine was that day. It is so much a part of every day life for thousands of "someones" every single day. I'm just not used to it being a part of my every day life.
That fact is even more apparent with what is happening with my father. He saw an oncologist yesterday - I was at the appointment. The estimated life expectancy is 6 months - could be more, could be less. It seems surreal - like I'm watching myself go through the motions - because my dad feels well. It's not like he has been feeling sick for months or years. In fact at 30 years older then my husband, my dad is so capable and sharp. Six months? Really? I sent the word out to family - we tend to share this information by e-mail so everyone gets the same facts. Otherwise it can be like that old game of telephone - where after the message has been passed along, it doesn't resemble the original when it gets to the last person. I know when I wrote this e-mail, I change the wording so many times to make sure I don't add anything I've concluded from the discussion that may be way off base. It may be silly, but with such a large family, it feels important that we all get the same information to start off with.
In the doctor's office, as we discussed my dad's prognosis, he talked about maybe wanting to parachute out of an airplane. My brother mentioned Dad has always asked why jump out of a perfectly good airplane? Dad chuckled - and said something about a bucket list. I hope my dad does it! I hope this will make him grab all the opportunities he can that in the past he might have passed on - and I know it will push me to make time each week to spend with him. If six months is the right estimate, then once a week means I'll only see him 26 more times. What? Wait a minute. So maybe it should be twice a week - and still, that's only 52 times. It makes me sad. I guess I have taken it for granted, that it will be the same today as yesterday - until I become one of the "someones" - afraid to lose someone I love - afraid of the change that is coming. It's funny, because I've always thought of myself as a strong person, a person more aware then some of how life can change like the weather, a little more grounded in reality. But I find each day that my perspective is changing with the challenges life presents. All those little sayings - don't sweat the small stuff - stop and smell the roses - seize the day - live life to the fullest - they are so simple yet so challenging, they hold so much truth. And I can do all that in an ordinary every day life. And for me, that will help me make my life extraordinary. I want to make it all count now - for myself, my kids, my husband, and my dad. I have my own little bucket list - wanting to go whale watching - taking a horse drawn sleigh ride in the snow - and maybe I'll get to do those things some day. But if I don't, my every day ordinary life can be extraordinary if I choose to make it so.
This morning I head over to talk to my dad about his will, etc. at his request. I'm his named executor. So I'll get a taste of what I need to think about for our meeting with an attorney to prepare for the rest of my life.
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