The New Normal

12.8.2011

In March of 99 my mother was in the hospital recovering from a mini stroke and it was discovered she had a partial blockage of her carotid artery.  While the doctor was in the process of prepping her for a simple process to insert a metal mesh tube in the artery at the blockage she said “I have a bad headache” and then promptly died.  The prepping process had my mother conscious while they injected dye into her blood stream and took pictures of her circulatory system.  Later the doctor played us a video clearly showing something bursting in her brain. 

What followed was a frantic mission by the doctor to remove her from the life support which was keeping her “alive.”  We had to contact my sister in Oregon and get her on a plane to be by our mother’s side when the machine was turned off.  I say “frantic” because I can remember the doctor saying, several times, we’ve got to get her off this machine.  The delay, however came from the fact my sister’s phone was off the hook and for hours we got nothing but busy signals.  I witnessed the doctor working the phone at the nurse’s station trying to get someone in charge at the phone company to interrupt the conversation we thought was taking place on my sister’s phone.  Knowing his attempts were futile the doctor yelled into the phone “thank you very much for nothing” and then slammed the two parts of the phone together and stared at the device.  He ran his fingers through his hair like a comb and just stared down at that phone as if to communicate on another level with my sister.

It wasn’t until several years later that I realized why the doctor was so bent out of shape and on a mission to get Mother off that life sustaining machine.  I didn’t understand the urgency he felt but now I know.  After witnessing the public spectacle that we now call the Terri Schiavo case I realize there can come a new sense of normal.  For us, Mother was still “alive” albeit without the machine she was dead and we all knew that.  But what if one of us got comfortable with the new normal and got in the way of Mother’s wishes for the doctor to DNR?

The mood here is somber once again.  Monday night when I was taking the boys out for the last time, Kopol got up from his bed very reluctantly, stiff, limping on his right rear leg and whimpering.  This boy never cry’s in pain, something is very wrong.  It didn’t pass as we had hoped, not his leg asleep or a weird pain that didn’t last.  He’s still limping on that leg, slightly all the time and other times, heavily.  Is it the new normal?  We watch him limp to the yard and help him pee?  Helping him pee, wasn’t that the last, new normal?  How many more new normals do we go through before we realize Kopol has had enough?

This morning Rachel said she thinks Kopol is telling us it’s time to die.  She doesn’t want to see him in this pain and he doesn’t have the spark he had just a couple days ago.  His spirit is fading.  I was just outside with him and he looked lost for what to do in the yard.  He kept looking at me with wanting eyes so I came close.  He pushed up against me.  What’s he trying to tell me?  I broke down crying and stroking his head.  His tail busted into full wag and he pressed closer into me.  I said “no boy I’m suppose to be taking care of you, not you taking care of me.” 

How'd this happen Kopol Kavakeb Jones?  

We love you.

 Top of New Mexico summer 2010