Zen hospice status 1/24/13

Jean's bedside garden
Tulips and daffodils from Nick Galloro
 Bouquet of red roses from Matt Garber/Cindy Fressola
Orange roses from Catherine Gasparini
Ivy plant with umbrella from Ken Eisenstaedt
Photo is a Jean & Matt wedding picture
The Buddha's an temple bell belongs to Jean

Jean has had fewer nausea episodes and milder tremors since Saturday, and her voice has regained enough strength to allow whispering to caregivers and her numerous visitors.  Jean has been enjoying connecting with family and friends, but it is important for visitors to know what to expect.  If you visit us at the hospice, she may watch videos with you, or have a conversation; or your interaction may just be to hold her hand and talk to her while she listens intently and responds to questions with squeezes; or she may doze off.  She may also doze off if you Skype with her or talk on the phone.

One piece of worrisome news: she has started coughing when drinking, so for the time being she's only taking thickened fluids; even her beloved green tea lattés must get this distasteful treatment

Cats

Clark and Jean
Zen Hospice, 2/5/13 

We plan to add other photos to this posting, so if you have any you'd like to share, please do send them along.

February 5, 2013: Clark Visits Jean at the Zen Hospice.

Clark watching Jean
Zen Hospice, 2/5/13

Clark and his brother Lewis (AKA Lewis J. Pico) are our two current indoor cats.  Their mom Houdini has been one of our outdoor cats since at least 2006, when she had the the litter that include Lewis and Clark. At the Jean had just lost her close friends John and Sandra, and when she saw Houdini teaching her kittens to fend for themselves by leading them to our back porch, she knew she had to invite some of them inside. 

Jean petting Clark
Zen Hospice, 2/5/13

The nappers
Zen hospice 2/6/13

May 2002: Remembering Felix

Jean and Felix, May 2002
both newly arrived at 1853 Wood St.

It is a truth, universally acknowledged, that a Lewis in the process of establishing a household is in need of a cat. Jean has proudly upheld this tradition, adding Sputnik, Pica, Zola, Felix, Lewis, Clark, and Razzle to the Lewis family pantheon of notable felines. The photo above shows Jean with Felix in May 2002, just after they both moved into 1853 Wood St.  Without wishing to offend any of the others, Jean acknowledges that Felix, handsome, brilliant, sweet-tempered, with a striking tuxedo coat, is her all-time fave. 

The Cats who Shared the Canary

Jean and Matt on their honeymoon, March 1998,
just after arriving in Jerusalem
Reproduced by taking a photo of a framed original due
to the  digital photography/Photoshop expertise of Anne Lewis.  Thanks!

Many visitors to Jean's room at the Zen Hospice have commented on the photo, reproduced above, and which offline is clear, handsomely framed, and prominently displayed.  The attraction is probably its visual response to the question everybody asks about all couples: why are these two people together?  Draped over each other in happy exhaustion, smiling like we'd just pulled off the caper of the century, the answer I read is: we enjoy each other shamelessly.

That is "enjoy," ongoing, not "enjoyed," as in the good old days.  At the time of the photo, our conceit was we fit together like two pieces of a puzzle. Fifteen years later, we still fit, although the puzzle posed by life-threatening illness differs.  Or perhaps we're so intertwined the metaphor of edges snapping together does not entirely make sense.  William Carlos Williams has a poem about the long married, comparing us to ivy and an old brick wall, where you no longer know where one ends and the other begins, and who is supporting whom.  We're a bit like that.

Looking closely at the photo, I see Jean casually yet stylishly dressed, in a pose that is somehow both relaxed and dynamic.  The smile on her face is warm, sensual, content, curious, all that in generous doses.  Heartbreakingly beautiful, enduringly Jean.

Circle of Lives

Wednesday Evening
Jean resting after visiting with Jil Finnegan
and having Chinese take-out for supper

From Jean, with help from Matt

Jean has mostly been holding steady since she opened her eyes again Saturday, talking in a very quiet whisper, and eating and drinking.  But she has had more nausea episodes, and several tremors in her right arm and leg. She’s drawn strength from the support she’s received from everyone, both those who have been able to visit, and those who have sent their love from afar.  We worked together on something she could say by way of thanks, and came up with this.

To all those who have been saying in their different ways that you want me to stick around,

Thank you, I have had a wonderful time. I will do my best to stay, but it is not a slam-dunk.  Whatever my future holds, you should all know I love you back, and want the thought of me to help you move forward with your lives.  I have had differences with some of you, a part of life that cannot be avoided.  But at this point none of that matters.  I imagine all of us in a circle, holding hands, then hugging each of you in turn, telling you with all my heart I wish you well.

A difficult week

Saturday Morning
Jean on the rebound drinking a green tea latté
with some help from her sister Anne

Jean has had ups and downs over the past 4 days, so we've been on an emotional roller coaster here at the hospice.  The short version is that on Friday, Jean wasn't talking, eating, drinking or even opening her eyes; one of the nurses here implied that she might never open them again.  But she did, Saturday morning, and then she started eating and drinking, and is now able to talk to in an extremely quiet whisper.

Here's a longer version, day by day.

Wednesday, January 9

The Wee Hours For the first time since she has been at the hospice, Jean woke up in the middle of the night afraid to be alone.  She asked one of the nurses to hold her hand, and when that nurse needed to attend to another patient, she got me from downstairs and I sat with her to the morning.  Since that time, there have been only a few hours when Jean has not had family and friends sitting at her bedside.

Late Afternoon

Jean had Skypes sessions with Yao Louis in Ann Arbor and Laurie Abbott in New Mexico.  She was not very talkative, and the sessions were short.  After that, the Zen Hospice Chorus came to our remove, and sang what sounded live a very old song with this haunting refrain:

We may not need words

We may not need songs.

We may just need our two hears beating.

The Evening.

Jean was nauseous three times.  This made the 6th day of the last 7 that she nauseated, and the hospice decided to give her 1 mg of Haldol as needed every two hours to try to control it.  In retrospect this was probably a mistake, the Haldol and lorazapam (for seizure control) had a powerful sedating effect on Jean.

Thursday

Susie Dranit, with her gifts of
a fleece cap and an orchid

The Haldol appeared to be working, but Jean had no appetite, was not talking much, and appeared to be dozing a lot.  Susie Dranit came to visit at 2 pm, bringing the orchid and the fleece cap that you see in the photo.  Susie was a colleague of Jean's at URS, and had many warm memories to share, and some tears to shed.  She ended up staying for several hours, holding Jean's had and talking even though Jean did little in response.  Susie seemed to get a lot from the experience.  After Susie, Ken Eichstaedt from URS came by, bringing an ivy plant in an ornamental pot that had been a prized ornament in Jean's cube.  Like Susie, he chatted for a while, held hands with Jean, and it seemed to mean a lot to him.

Karen Creech, with gifts of flowers:
Nick Galloro brought the irises Tuesday;
Ken Eichstaedt brought the ivy Thursday;
Susie Dranit brought the tall orchid Thrusday

Jean's sister Anne and brother-in-law John arrived from Florida in the evening.  This was an event Jean had bee looking forward to since Anne returned to Florida December 11.  Jean did not acknowledge the event, but somehow she was already aware that Anne was back when she opened her eyes Saturday morning.

Karen Creech visited to, as she has many times, and her loving patient presence was much appreciated.

Friday

Ian Austin, Jean, Anne Lewis

A bad day.  The hospice stopped the Haldol, and went very lightly on the lorazapam, but Jean appeared to sleep the whole day.  Of course Anne and John were there from early until late, and Ian Austin from URS came by in the afternoon. Like Susie Dranit and Ken Eichstaedt Thursday, Ian spent several hours just holding Jean's hand and talking about life in an engineering consulting firm. Jean did not say anything in response, but made a couple of gestures that seemed to indicate agreement with points Ian was making.

Saturday

Jean's eyes opened in the early in the morning, and Jean regained more ground during the day.  She ate applesauce, poached eggs, squash soup, home fries, and chocolate covered graham crackers (the sacramental stress reduction food she liked to share with Alison Drury), and so far it's all stayed down.  She also had two green tea lattés, her favorite recreational beverage.  In addition to Anne and John, Phil Cushway came by to visit, sharing memories of Jean in her Ann Arbor days, and showing mock-ups of his latest publishing project, the poem of protest books.  Derek and Tara came by around 4, and Derek read Jean a Damon Runyon short story named "Lily".  Derek was Jean's last manager at URS, and has been keeping all of her colleagues there informed about her situation.  Derek's wife Tara has been visiting Jean weekly for several months.

Jean, the grade school years

Louise, René, Jean

Please send your memories and appreciations of Jean in her grade school years to 1853WoodSt@gmail.com, and we will incorporate them herein.

This snapshot of young Jean, so full of life, was excerpted from email written by Linda Hutchins on New Years Day 2013.  Linda grew up with Jean in Ann Arbor, was a computer professional once upon a time (such apostates do exist), and is now a noted artist whose work has appeared in several galleries.  Linda lives in Portland, Oregon, with her husband, John Montague; their son, Eric, is in college, pursuing an interest in mechanical engineering and robotics

Infectious Enthusiasm

I keep thinking about all our shared interests as friends growing up, and how your infectious enthusiasm, Jean, often drove those interests. Maybe it was partly because you were a year older and I looked up to you and wanted to emulate you? But also I think it was the force of your attention and passion about things. Knitting, ice skating, morse code, magic and witchcraft - I feel like I took the cue from you in all those interests. When I was around you it was impossible not to be interested in what you were interested in. I noticed this again in October, when John and I visited you and Matt for the afternoon. I'm sure Matt knows what I'm talking about too. I wonder if you're aware of that quality in yourself, and if you identify it with either of your parents? Your mother was an incredible gardener, and cooked the best breaded and fried zucchini and eggplant I ever tasted. My mother cooked that too, but only after she learned from your mother, so maybe there was some infectious enthusiasm between them, too.