Just Another Day

To my son Tommy,

There are things to concern yourself in this world, and there are things that you should not fret over. I often wonder if God is trying hard to drive home this lesson to me. It seems He is giving me ample opportunity to practice choosing which things are of import.

For example, this morning I walked out to my company truck and noticed the driver side mirror was destroyed. I imagine some bus or delivery truck or big truck came up our street and popped it. No one stopped, no one knocked, that doesn't happen (or at least not often) in today's day and age. Perhaps in my youth, I would have been in a "woe is me" mode and asking why do things keep piling up on me. Not today. No one hurt. It is just a mirror. Plus the driver who didn't stop gets seven years bad luck for breaking a mirror, right? Not important to worry about.

Now a 104.7 degree fever, that is something to concern yourself with. That is the temperature your godmother had. Turns out, even though she got the flu shot, she has the flu. She had to go to the hospital for a bit but is back home and doing better. Just another chapter added to the medical woes of those in our extended family. Brain cancer, atrial fibulation, diverticulitis, crohn's, MS, diabetes, breast cancer, hospice, chemo, radiation, fevers, flus, etc...these type of things are important especially when we are talking family.

Money, turns out not as important as you would think. We came home to a $600+ ambulance bill from the city. This was for the night two weeks ago when you couldn't breath and we called 911. Your mother summed it up nicely with the comment, "It will get paid when we can pay it." The important thing is you got over your croup and can breath and didn't die.

Now weather on the other hand is worth some concern as well. Not really weather, but how it affects you and your loved ones. It just moved from rain to snow up here and now I will be driving home without a side mirror. Double jeopardy. I better sum this up.

Health and welfare and lives and love are the important things to worry about. Money and things and annoying little everyday problems, not so much. Sure you have to deal with them and sure they can be quite challenging and frustrating and downright scary, but they aren't as important as you think. Choose wisely what weight you lay upon your shoulders, otherwise you will look back in shame that you ever let such minor details burden you and distract you from what is truly important.

Sincerely with love from your dad,
Leo

The Things You See

To my son Tommy,

Your great grandfather was triple dosed up on pain killers the other day. Since he has been moved from home health care to home hospice, he was prescribed painkillers. He usually gets half a pill but no more than one whole pill a day.

Unfortunately, your great grandmother is also on the same painkillers and her prescription is for two pills a day. So when she administered the painkillers to your Great Grandpa Leo, she got confused and gave him two pills like she takes. That wouldn't have been so bad, except that in the afternoon feeding, your uncle, not knowing of the earlier dose, gave him another pill. They called the hospice people and were told that there was nothing to do except wait for your great grandfather to come down from the high.

When we came over last night for dinner at the Downey's house, I wondered why your great grandfather had his eyes wide open from his hospital bed. Then I found out the story and it all made sense. I pictured your great grandpa having the same reaction as the cat in the above picture.

The rest of the night was fairly uneventful. Your Great Aunt Mo and Mr Gary came over for dinner. You love having a new audience for everything and kept us laughing with your little declarations. At one point you declared to the group that when you grow up and become a priest, you will be known as Father Thomas. You hit us with a couple other zingers too as the night continued.

You have taken an extreme interest in how remote controls work and have become a remote control hog. You landed on this telethon like thing with all these old concerts and the one was a Bee Gee concert. You brought in your Great Aunt Mo into the living room to listen and you and her danced and sung to "How Deep Is Your Love" and finished with a rousing dance to "Stayin' Alive"

Of course this morning at church that whole disco thing came back to haunt me. You excitedly tug on my shirt and whisper, "Dad, I see a Bee Gee." I didn't have the energy to find out what you really were looking at, whether it was another parishioner, a saint, or a depiction of Christ. I will tell you, if you really have any aspirations of being Father Thomas, you might have to learn to distinguish between Jesus of Nazareth and Barry Gibb.

Sincerely with love from your dad,
Leo

Prognosis

To my son Tommy,

The official prognosis for your Grandpa Leo is 14.6 months with treatment. For the stage four cancer that he has (called glioblastoma multiforme or GBM) that is the median survival rate. Median means half of them do better than that rate and half of them do worse. They said your Grandpa Leo has a special enzyme that is most commonly found in long term survivors of GBM and that could push his personal prognosis out to three or even five years.

You might think this information would change everything. It doesn't really. Sure your grandfather will have to undergo radiation and chemo starting around the middle of December with scans to watch for tumor growth, but that is just an extra chore and he is looking forward to his daily trips to Johns Hopkins using the subway. Sure your grandfather will get tired from the treatments, but he already really enjoys naps and this will give him an excuse to take a couple more every day. Sure your Grandpa Leo knows what will most likely be the cause of his death, but that doesn't change much either because he always was aware he was going to die someday as that is part of the terminal illness called life. And, he still doesn't really know when things will happen as he (like Han Solo in the quote above) often defies all odds.

But the day to day for your Grandfather won't change much. He will still care for your great grandpa and great grandma as a dutiful son does. He will still suffer and complain (with love) about long shopping trips and crazy ass requests as a dedicated husband does. He will still be a wonderful father who constantly teaches his son through words and examples, no matter how old his son is, the importance of living a life worth living and how to vanquish the fear of death. He will still be a great father-in-law who always wanted a daughter as well and is enjoying still learning what having a great daughter is all about. He will still be a loving grandfather who no doubt will be a cohort in crime for some mischief and bonding with his grandson, who he will watch turn 6 and 7 and, God willing, 8 and 9 and 10 or more. Just like before, every joke he says will be corny, every prayer he prays will be heartfelt and most likely for others, every hug he gives will be sincere, and every moment of his life will be as precious as every moment that has passed, good times and bad equally. So though all our lives have a new wrinkle added, things really aren't much different than before. So let's just keep on keeping on and loving every moment.

Sincerely with love from your dad,
Leo

Old Motto, New Perspective

To my son Tommy,

I am sitting with your Great Grandpa Leo making sure someone is here to watch him. Your Grandma Roro is in the other room and I guess by me being here I am kind of looking out for both of them. Your Nana Jeanne is in the hospital for her diverticulitis and your Grandpa Leo is at doctor appointments all day. Your Great Aunt Mo went with him for a second pair of ears. I am very anxious to hear what they are going to be told.

To while away the hours, I have been thinking of recent conversations I had with your Grandpa Leo. The other day, your grandpa put his car into the service center. He told them to give it a once over and fix everything. He asked me to drive him over to pick up the car. He was dreading the auto service bill, saying how it was probably going to be big mistake to give the car dealership service section basically a blank check. 

I looked at him and laughed and said, "Dad, right now you are or should be living by the motto, 'Life is short. Make mistakes.' You know what I mean?"

He laughed a tremendous belly laugh, "Do you think I should have a t-shirt made?"

It felt good to make your grandpa laugh. I could use a laugh right now waiting for the doctors' best guess to how short life can be.

Sincerely with love from your dad,

Leo

Haircut

To my son Tommy,

"Nice haircut," your PopPop quipped to you and me, admiring our freshly buzzed hairdos courtesy of your mother and the house clippers. "I got mine cut to," he continued, adding as he looked at me with a grin and a wink, "That way I will look nice in the box if I croak on this surgery." I laughed. Not sure what it is about both your grandfathers, as they both have this twisted sense of humor when it comes to death. I suppose it is a generation thing, or perhaps a military thing. It makes your mother uncomfortable, and probably your grandmothers too. Come to think of it, that might be why your grandfathers make those kinds of jokes.

Not sure what it says about me that I inherited this morbid sense of comedy and that I chuckle or downright belly laugh at most of their jokes as I join in. I replied, "Well, you will look nice. And if you do croak, I will try to bundle for a group rate at the funeral home with all my family members." He laughed back.

Thank goodness PopPop can sport his new haircut from outside the pine box. He had a little bit of a complication with the incision area after the surgery, but the word on the street is the surgery went smoothly. He had to stay the night at the hospital, but is home now.

I have learned through your Grandpa Leo and PopPop's surgery, that at Johns Hopkins hospital at least, when they move you from the surgery waiting room to the waiting room to be brought back to recovery, that they won't come get you. For your Grandpa Leo, your mom and I waited about an hour or two before forcing our way back to his recovery room. I think your mom and Bwama waited about three hours before forcing their way back to PopPop's recovery room. Lesson learned. when it comes to recovery rooms, don't settle for the waiting game.

As for the rest of the potential funeral home group rate candidates, there isn't much new. Your Great Grandpa Leo has moved from a home care to hospice designation but not much has changed. Your Nana Jeanne went to the doctors today for diverticulitis pain and is going to a doctor to get the biopsy results tomorrow with your mom. Your Grandpa Leo goes to two oncologists tomorrow with your Great Aunt Mo there for an extra set of ears. Your Grandpa Leo recently thought he might have the shingles on top of everything else but the urgent care docs say it is a spider bite or ant bites, which draws into question if your Grandmom Roro actually has shingles as well on top of everything else she constantly deals with.

The rest of the group (those of us in less critical condition that have a good chance of avoiding the discount rate at the funeral parlor) has plenty going on as well. Coughs, and colds, and crohn's flairs, and that is just the stuff that starts with "C". So when the going gets tough, you and I get haircuts.

Sincerely with love from your dad,
Leo

Bathtism

To my son Tommy,

Occasionally, I have no words that can reach you. No matter how hard I try, I cannot correct one of your misconceptions. The hardest part of an exchange like this is coming to grips that your logic may even win me over. Such is the case with baptism vs bath-tism. Your argument was "Do you see any baps in that picture?" Well no, no I don't. You win. Now watch daddy have a wine-tism with this black box of merlot.

Sincerely with love from your dad,

Leo

Death Star

To my son Tommy,

The Death Star has been in many of our conversations lately. You have been watching the Star Wars movies and you decided to ask Santa for the Lego Death Star, the approximately four hundred dollar Lego Death Star. We decided we can ask Santa but there are definitely no promises as Santa has a budget and we don't want to bankrupt Santa so he can't buy important things for others.

Last week at your grandparent's house you found, right before we were leaving, a package of balloons for making balloon animals. Your mom and I were a bit peeved at the timing of the discovery, and said maybe next week we can open them. You weren't happy until your Grandpa Leo suggested that the next week (aka last night) you and he would make a Death Star out of the balloons. It appeased you at the time, so I let it ride, but I wondered how the hell we would pull that off.

You spent the entire week planning and looking forward to this balloon Death Star. Your Grandpa Leo thought about it too and bought some rubber bands to try and help the construction. But after blowing up the first balloon and realizing he couldn't even tie them off with his current hand function, you both looked at me. Sure. Right. I can do this. I once made a balloon dog and a balloon sword, so I am an expert right?

I made the first one, and I thought it was pretty good. Even your mom was impressed with my little globe. You and your grandpa thought it was small, but good for the first test reenactment.

"Reenactment? What reenactment?" I thought to myself. The next thing I know, before I even had a chance to picture my good work, there you and your grandpa are with safety goggles and two sharp forked barbecue tools that you guys called your light saber forks and singing the theme song from the movies. I barely had enough time to plug my ears before you guys re enacted the blowing up of the Death Star. You were both proud of the results and demanded I use every balloon remaining to make the next one for the grand finale.

Not sure if it was because I had to use all of the balloons, or if it was because I knew of its ultimate fate, but the next version (pictured) wasn't as good. It didn't even capture or hold the spherical look that well and looked like the Emperor hired Darth Escher to make the second reincarnation. But it was good enough for the imagination of a five year old and the somewhat twisted sense of humor and entertainment value of a sixty six year old. May the force be with you.

Sincerely with love from your dad,

Leo

The Game You Want To Lose

To my son Tommy,

Your Grandpa Leo recently was touting the simple pleasures of life. This morning was the first time he could wash his head since the brain surgery. He said it felt amazing and went on and on about how he missed it so. He was gentle and timid at the washing, but even the little he did brought him such great enjoyment. But not all of his pleasures are as simple and innocent.

Your Grandpa Leo has a couple life insurance policies. One is a whole life with the Knights of Columbus and one is a term life with the military that lasts to age seventy five. He recently, before all this started to happen, considered cancelling the term life policy. Of course now he isn't cancelling it. He looked at me the other day and said, "I feel like calling up these insurance companies and saying 'YOU LOSE #$%^ers!'" I was a bit stunned at first and there was nothing I could say or do but join in his crazy laughter. It is a perverse pleasure as you stare at death's door to know that you "won" at the life insurance game. Definitely not politically correct humor but no one ever accused the Downeys of being very PC. We will take the laughs where we can, especially right now, thank you very much.

Here is hoping that your grandad turns out to be wrong and he lives another nine plus years and ends up "losing" the life insurance game. Here is hoping that all our friends and family end up "losing" this game the right way (through longevity) as well. And finally, here is hoping that all of us can learn to laugh in the face of death the way your Grandpa Leo can.

Sincerely with love from your dad,
Leo

Special Ride

To my son Tommy,

Well, at least you got a fun ride in the ambulance. When your soon to be a nurse mother decides to call 911, even I panic. Turns out you had croup which caused you to not be able to breath while you had that coughing fit. Fun times!

Sincerely with love from your dad,

Leo

Short Update

To my son Tommy,

I don't think I have the strength for a long post with my usual attempts at wit. So here is a quick hit. Still know nothing more about your grandpa than we did yesterday. Nana Jeanne had a mammogram that even made the secretary go "Whoa" and informed your mom that when it comes back cancer officially, just set her up with hospice. Your Great Grandpa Leo seems to have lost function of his one hand and had to have an in home X-ray to make sure it didn't break during the last ambulance ride. Your Grandma Roro has shingles on top of the over abundant other problems she is having. You had a doctor appointment today and have a 101 degree fever and have to stay home from school tomorrow at least. You will spend the day at your Bwama's house because your mother has a twelve hour clinicals day tomorrow and she is worried that I would be missing too much work if I stay home to care for you. And the beat goes on, and the beat goes on.

Sincerely with love from your dad,

Leo

There's A Saint For That

To my son Tommy,

There was an old joke about smart phones and tablets. It seemed that no matter what you wanted to do in life, there's an app for that. Need to track calories, there's an app for that. Need to count steps, there's an app for that. Need to learn how to potty train a snail, probably an app for that too.

Well something similar could be said about the Catholic religion, there's a Saint for that. Need to find something lost, there's a Saint for that. Find yourself losing patience, there's a Saint for that. Find out your father/grandfather/husband/brother (or whatever your Grandpa Leo is to all these people who love him) has an aggressive form of brain cancer, there's a Saint for that too.

O great St. Peregrine, you have been called "The Mighty," "The Wonder-Worker," because of the numerous miracles which you have obtained from God for those who have had recourse to you.
For so many years you bore in your own flesh this cancerous disease that destroys the very fibre of our being, and who had recourse to the source of all grace when the power of man could do no more. You were favoured with the vision of Jesus coming down from His Cross to heal your affliction. Ask of God and Our Lady, the cure of the sick whom we entrust to you. Especially Leo Thomas Downey III and all who invoke your aid.
Aided in this way by your powerful intercession, we shall sing to God, now and for all eternity, a song of gratitude for His great goodness and mercy.
Amen.

I wish I could tell you more specifics at this time, but a scheduling snafu had me leave your Grandpa Leo before he went in to see his surgeon. The surgeon had got called back into the operating room and was about two hours late. I thought to myself, if you are going to be late, saving a life or lives in surgery sure is a good excuse. Anyways, I was worried about time and worried about picking you up from school so your grandpa said for me to go. By the time I got the parking (pre)paid and was almost out of the garage, your mom called and said she will make sure you are picked up and to go back with your Grandpa Leo. By the time I got back to your grandpa, the visit was over and he was headed towards the subway in the hospital to make it easier for me to pick him up and get him home. Well, the good thing was I could drive him home and we stopped by to see you let out of school. The bad news is your Grandpa Leo isn't the best at getting all the details told to him, so we got half the story at best. All I got was that it was an aggressive form of cancer (no name) that is specific to the brain (which means it didn't come from somewhere else in the body) and that they were going to go "full court press" on dealing with it, and that he can drive, and, according to the surgeon, when he speaks to the oncologist and they give them a bunch of statistics and numbers and time frames to remember they are never right. I got about twenty questions still unanswered, even some that are beneficial to your grandpa, such as; can he drink? can he stop taking the anti-seizure pill that makes him feel loopy? what about lifting more than ten pounds? etc. Your Grandpa Leo just shrugged and said that those answers would have been good to know. But tomorrow the brain oncologist will be calling and scheduling some appointments for him, so more info to come.

Sincerely with love from your dad,
Leo

Incognito

To my son Tommy,

Had a stranger join us for dinner. Never knew who it was, but he brought with him a much needed laugh.

Sincerely with love from your dad,

Leo

Covet

To my son Tommy,

I have too many material things in my life. You, at the ripe age of five probably do too, but that is more my fault than yours. Your grandmother definitely has too much. When you really think about it, most of us do. Some more than others. One of the hardest things to do in life is to not covet material things. It is a hard lesson to learn and an even harder lesson to live by for yourself and for others, especially with the hoarding tendencies hidden in your genetic line. But this I know...I will never let things get in between me and my love for you. On my tombstone it will not read, "He died with many nice things that he loved" but rather "He loved and was loved and everything else mattered little." You can take every material thing I own, as long as I have love to give and love to receive, I have everything.

Sincerely with love from your dad,

Leo

Since

To my son Tommy,

It is almost getting comical, because if I don't laugh about it I will just cry. Pulled up to your grandparent's house yesterday, and as we are parking I hear an ambulance sirening its way down Marriottsville Rd. As it comes into view, I can see it slowing. Horrible as it may be, I sat there saying, "Please go to the house next door, please go to the house next door, please..." No such luck. Seems your great grandpa was having trouble with his catheter and couldn't pee. One thing I have learned recently is how having to go can affect a persons mental state. Yeah, I thought they were pulling my leg too when they told me that, but I have seen it first hand now.

I guess I am a little of a "glass half empty" type because the issue was fixed relatively quickly at the hospital and your Great Grandpa Leo was back that night. I should celebrate the wins, and not lament the challenges. And that was a small victory but a victory none the less.

Your Nana Jeanne on the other hand is like the other shoe waiting to drop. She has the needle biopsy coming for the lumps in her breast plus she is patiently waiting for a polyp in her inner plumbing (I believe because of the diverticulitis but I may be confused about that) to send her to the hospital. Oy. Your mom did her cimzia shot today because her innards were acting up too. Plus your mom is currently diligently working on ten thousand school papers that she had to put off because of running around for others. And your Pop-pop has an operation coming soon for his a-fib, which is also on our minds and hearts. That is just the important stuff on top of Grandpa Leo and Grandma Roro.

Other things like house thermostats failing, chores piling up, adjusting to new norms, scheduling logistics, and a small recent crime wave in the neighborhood which has had the police chopper and cars making the rounds almost daily, aka all the more mundane challenges of just living busy life pale in comparison.

Yet despite my natural pessimistic outlook, if I stop and take a deep breath, I can see it. I can see all this love being offered to me, to your grandpa, to your mom, to your grandma, to you, to the whole crew. It comes in the most simplest forms; a co-worker coming to help get the thermostat straight; a hug from a sister in law; a bamboo plant from a long lost bud; a friend suggesting a song that just might make it a little more joyful as we try to get through; a cousin sitting with your Grandmom Roro; an entire school praying for our family; an aunt and uncle helping transport to and from for lab work; an understanding boss who has allowed me to be flexible with work not because he is my uncle but because he cares; your mom's teacher being understanding about due dates and sympathetic to her family obligations during this difficult time; an offer from a brother in law for anything that needs to be done that you can tell by the look in his eye is sincere and solid and not just words; a gentle shoulder; a kind word; countless prayers offered; an ear to bend; a moment to share; a well timed smile; a generous laugh; and seeing my five year old son on bended knee at church praying hard. These examples come from far and near, in person, by phone, by letter, by social media, from friends and family, close and distant, and are so plentiful that I could never recount each and every. These examples are exactly what you need to realize everything is worth it and you just have to keep carrying on.

As your Great Grandpa Leo was always quick to say, "The world just keeps spinning, I just try to hold on" which includes my implied ending of "even if I am holding on by a blade of grass to keep me from hurtling off this rock into the great abyss of space." To all those who have shared those moments, shared their hearts, thank you. Thank you for being our blade of grass to keep us grounded and going.

Sincerely with love from your dad,
Leo