Death day advice

a whole bunch

I have a lot to do this weekend. It was the end of the trimester Friday. The 6th graders finished a big project. The 8th graders wrote a massive essay. The 7th graders finished 3 things that were all due the same day (yes, poor planning on my part). I need to start thinking about the next PD I have to present (Regulating Emotion!) And yet, I’ve lollygagged my day away. Yesterday, it was planned lollygagging.  I made polenta and for the first time, drum roll please, Kouign Amann. Yes. That’s right… and they tasted (past tense) as good as they look.

But today I was going to get rolling. Get some stuff done. Instead I’ve scrolled Facebook; played a silly online game that is a total time suck; and just done virtually nothing. A few moments ago I realized I needed to get some crap out of my system… so here we go. Maybe I can make it a little useful too. 

Warning - there’s some heavy death stuff in here.

A year ago Friday I was lying in bed waiting for my alarm to go off. Katie was in the kitchen futzing with the microwave but then I heard a weird sound. It sounded wrong. So I hurried and got my robe on and went in. Katie was on the floor convulsing. I don’t know what I said but it was along the lines of “Oh, Katie, it’s time…” and I went and rolled her to be more comfortable and held her while talking to her the whole time. I did ask her if she was messing with me. She was not. I let her know it was okay to go. She went. I was honored to be holding her.

Katie had been on hospice care at home since mid-December. I didn’t know anything about hospice before all this. I now know that when you are on hospice 911 no longer exists. The paramedics’ job is to save people. Once you’re on hospice that is out the door. Comfort is #1. Emergency health situations don’t really exist. An easy passing is the goal. So, when the final day comes you don’t call 911. You call hospice. So, I gathered myself and called the nurse on duty. On the phone she asked me which mortuary we had chosen. I went silent for a moment. “Excuse me?” and she said “Which mortuary will you use? I need to call the mortuary” I was like, “uhhhhhh”.  She just said, “Okay, there’s a list in the pamphlet we gave you. Go through it and pick one while I’m on the way.” And so there it is. Death Day advice #1.  Pick your mortuary before it happens. Thankfully Katie was very organized, and it was easy to find. A couple were even highlighted. Phew! 

When the nurse got there, she had to check Katie out. She was very nice and professional but probably not as prepared as she could have been. She told me I may want to step out for a moment. I heeded her advice. And so there it is. Death Day advice #2. If the nurse suggests you step out - DO IT.  So she had to turn Katie over and the next thing I know the nurse is quietly exclaiming “shit shit shit” and then “do you have some towels or rags?” Honestly, I giggled a bit at this point, and said something like “Is Katie getting some comical revenge on us?”  “Yeah, she is…”  Thankfully I did have some handy old towels because Katie is very organized. Death Day advice #3. Have a bunch of towels and blankets at the ready. And if it’s going to be cremation - have something ready that is appropriate to be in forever. Thankfully one of the blankets was my favorite blanket EVER - and she was wrapped in it. Wrapped in it still. 

So the nurse calls the mortuary and says since it’s 6:30 am it is still the nightshift and they’ll be here shortly. Then she asks where the medicine is. I show her the cupboard and she cleans out all the morphine, fentanyl and a few other things. Quick quick quick. At the time this was a bit off putting, but I understand it’s a requirement they have to take care of. Can’t have any of those really fancy drugs running around. Heck no. Death Day advice #4.  Make sure all the medicine is in one easy place to get to and you know what is what. Thankfully, once again, Katie was very organized. Maybe a little too organized. There was a whole bunch of other stuff and things she never used too.  It was kind of a pain to sort through in that moment. 

And the nurse is gone. And I’m alone with Katie (aka - a dead body in the kitchen). Very odd. Unsettling. Probably not a good idea. Death Day advice #5.  Have somebody at the ready that maybe you call BEFORE hospice to help you out.  

So I sit with Katie and hold her for the 30 minutes it takes the mortuary guys to get there. I hear the car and look out. It’s so quiet in the apartment. No sounds from the neighbors. No one walking the sidewalk. Quiet. Big black hearse. I wonder if anyone else notices. Two guys in black suits get out. One of their suits has a ripped shoulder (someone must have been heavy). I meet them on the stairs. They were also very nice and professional. I think they are the ones that actually asked for the blankets. They get her all ready and ask if I would like to help.  Definitely YES.  So I got to help carry Katie down the three flights of stairs. I got the head end with one of the guys. I can still feel her weight and the sway. This was important for me. See her out. Send her on her way. Make sure she didn’t bonk into a stairway railing on the way. Yes, important. I knew this was important and just did it because I knew it would be a moment of closure. Death Day advice #6. Think about your own needs. Do you need a room to go to while they do their thing? Do you need to be there and see every step of the way? What part do you want to play? If you do need someone to be there with you make sure you have it lined up. 

And then they are gone. Oh, I did let the guy know he had a tear in his suit. And I’m alone again. Once again. Probably not the best thing to do. I call work and let them know. Thankfully I have amazing friends at work.

Next. Well. I don’t remember much from the day at this point. It was a blur. I do know that I went to the mortuary in the afternoon. Three good friends from work (and then four) came with me and gave me support as I let the mortuary know what we wanted. It was relatively easy in that I could just say, “Katie will haunt me forever if I don’t do the cheapest thing possible.” So cremation. No fancy urn. No viewing necessary. And the woman at the mortuary was excellent. And nice. And gave random discounts which I really didn’t need at all but appreciate. Death Day advice #7. I know it’s hard, but try to make as many of these decisions as you can beforehand. At least have a general understanding. You will not be in a good mindset for making decisions. 

And... The year that follows. Death Year advice … Do what you need to take care of your mental health. For me I have opened up more about my own emotions. I’ve started this substack thing. Rather than wait for people to reach out to me, I make the effort to reach out to others. I’ve tried to focus on the positive things Katie and I would have done through the year as our own celebrations. I invited friends to our wedding tree. I got to go to the private lands near Big Sur with friends a couple times. I went camping with a school group partly because it was exactly where Katie and I would have gone and I made a new memory. I celebrated our first date anniversary with 48 fabulous friends. Give power to the positive days. Don’t forget the others - but it is in your power to choose how you remember and what you focus on. 

Also - try to be respectful of other people’s needs. While Katie was a master bridge burner there were still a lot of people that really cared for her. Don’t neglect them. Visit them. Talk to them. Make sure to communicate with them. They will need closure too. 

Finally, we come to the day. One year. My sensations and memories have been specific but not scary or disturbing. I feel textures. I smell specific aromas. It’s been a bit surreal. I wasn’t going to make specific plans but as it turns out a friend from England is visiting and she is staying with her sister and they were both good friends of Katie. I ask if I can cook them dinner and so on Friday. The day. I gather all sorts of polenta cooking supplies and drive down to the highlands and cook dinner for three lovely ladies. The two sisters both knew and loved Katie. The third is the nurse for the older one that had a stroke a couple years ago. She’s on hospice too. The dinner was great. Lovely. Nice. I am glad I was with them. The polenta was tasty. 

I get home at 9:30 and it’s so quiet. I can feel Katie’s weight as I walk the stairs. I login and send a couple hugs out to people on texts. I check Facebook and a long lost friend is corresponding with me. She doesn’t know it’s the day. And we just chat about random things for a full hour. I don’t think she knows how important she was. She carried me through to bedtime. 

Today. Sunday. I got to run with one of Katie’s closest and oldest friends and now one of my closest friends. She’s been a godsend.

And the last piece of advice. Let other people help you. They want to but may not know what to do.

Thank you Katie for the time you gave me.