Irish Pragmatist

To my son Tommy,

Wow. What a day! And not necessarily in a good way, but nothing catastrophic... just work.

First off a quick medical update. I was very thankful over the extended holiday weekend that no one was in the hospital. There was some that threatened hospital visits but ended up taking lesser methods.

Your Bwama had a sinus infection that caused her to go to one of those urgent care facilities on Thanksgiving itself. Your PopPop had a-fib while carving the turkey at our house but it is evidently much less of a case and he came out of it on his own and it isn't as debilitating or scary and it is to be expected for up to three months after his surgery. In fact he was in more danger from your mom when he took the beautiful crispy skin off the bird before carving because FoxNews told him so.

Your Grandpa Leo started having some pain and headaches and thought to himself, "Oh my here it comes" but then remembered a prescribed pill (which he calls his dumb pill because the way it makes him feel immediately after taking it) he forgotten to take and that made things better. Your Grandma Roro had a small scene where she was sure she left her purse in church, even though it was Saturday and they hadn't gone to church and her purse was in the other room.

Your great grandfather had some problems with his catheter, dried blood in the tube, but the hospice care came and changed that out so he didn't have to visit the hospital. Your Nana Jeanne is not feeling too hot but for the most part is just coping.

Your mom has a sinus infection and had a doctor's visit to get that cleared up. You, yourself, threatened some doctor visits on Friday and Saturday but it wasn't until last night that you got a fever and thus we took you today.

All things considered though, for the range of ailments we have in this ragtag group of invalids we call a family, it was a good weekend. It is an entirely different perspective when you can list everything that went wrong and be thankful it wasn't worse!

Then the weekend ended and I got to work. Slammed! Lots of fires to put out and issues to address and correct. I didn't stop working all day and am doing more work tonight. Blogging is just a small break. Well, blogging and working on your Lego Star Wars Advent Calendar piece, which mind you doesn't come with instructions and somehow I ended up with two extra pieces on the first box which has me confounded as you can see by the picture. But I digress. I guess this type of workday is par for the course after a long holiday weekend. Yet all and all, it is just work and it pays (most of) the bills.

There will be days like this, days that you are slammed and worked to the bone and just want to scream into your pillow as you fade off to sleep. You have good days and bad and you will hardly know which are which while they are happening. But you can actually choose. You can choose to make it a good day. Because it is how you react, your contribution, your perspective, your perception, of the events that frame reality.

Just like our family can have all these medical things happen over four or five days, and I still consider it a good weekend...you can choose to not let whatever challenge your face to bring you woe and misery. I am not advocating for rose colored glasses here, as I accept every event in life with a healthy dose of pragmatism, but just because something sucks, doesn't mean it can't be worse and doesn't mean it won't get better. So when these days come, roll up your sleeves. Get to work. Make things better rather than wallowing in despair. And just maybe tomorrow will be a better day. Of course, as a true Irish pragmatist (aka Grandpa Leo) once told his son, if all else fails there is always whisky! I kid, I kid. Well sort of. The whisky might help me with these extra Lego pieces!

Sincerely with love from your dad,
Leo

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