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When we lose a loved one while facing our own mortality
The past two weeks have been hell. Bear with me. On Thursday, our new rescue cat needed to go to the vet. I am now using ambulatory oxygen and the kerfuffle of getting it ready for the short period I would need it while transporting Casper seemed too much bother. On Friday, I had a tooth extracted because my dentist didn’t want to put me through the ordeal of a root canal requiring my airway to be partially blocked for two 45 minute sessions. Since I’m also on anticoagulant, extraction was risky and proved to be traumatic – that tooth did not want to come out. On Saturday my son called me with a crisis. I begged him to call an ambulance. He had stopped answering the phone. On Sunday my husband was overcome with pain and went to the hospital in an ambulance. On Monday I visited him between two 6 minute walk tests to make sure I was on the right oxygen flow rate. On Tuesday I returned to the dentist with “dry socket.” On Thursday my stepdaughter had an invasive procedure and fortunately the news was good. On Friday, nothing bad happened. Amazing. On Saturday my son’s father called me from the USA and told me our son was dead. He was 43 years old.
I live in Newcastle upon Tyne in North East England. I have not flown anywhere since my diagnosis and the thought of trying to fly to San Francisco and deal with this was daunting. Fortunately we were able to make most of the arrangements over the internet and Ben’s dad went to San Francisco to take care of the final details. I was tearing my hair out over how to get Ben’s ashes here, reading the regulations of two different countries. His father offered to bring them over himself.
I know I have a terminal illness. I have saved the ashes of my two elderly and beloved cats to go in with mine once I am cremated. Never did I imagine that I would outlive my son. Now his will accompany mine as well. He had talked about coming to see me. Now he will be with me forever.
I can’t even begin to imagine what I would have done if I hadn’t had someone in the USA to take care of this. I know I would have figured out a way but I also never imagined that having pulmonary fibrosis would limit me in this particular way.
Thanks for providing a space to say all this.
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