Doctor Grandma

While Dan was still alive at Community Convalescent, we were able to set up a bank account for him with his own money there. He had checks from the govt. he hadn’t cashed since Feb. It is amazing to me, the care he rec’d, from the state of California, all paid for by the state. Hooray for this crazy state! More such programs should exist for people like my brother. Dan had a $39,000. hospital bill marked “N/A” for payment. The Convalescent Center said they would take no money, since he was a Medical patient. The hospice care people wanted no money. The only people who DID take money were the crematorium people, and we have no way of knowing if they even did their job, let alone did it with dignity. They supposedly released Dan’s ashes into the sea. We were not allowed to go along on this trip, nor even know when it was to take place. (Maybe this is one reason why Bahai’s are not usually supposed to be cremated! The Baha’i Writings say to treat the body with respect, as it was the repository of the soul, which is a blessed thing.)

The balance of Dan’s account was just sent to us. Another person who Dan had given money to, is dividing that among the siblings. It appears that, lo & behold, my brother, of all people, is responsible in the end for me having an amount that will serve as a down payment on a house. How ironic is that? At the end, in our last conversation, Dan was all worried about his money, & he said a couple of times, after inquiring about it and trying to fool around with the checks in the book bag, “I hope I did that right. I hope I did that right.” I really have a feeling that he knew he was supposed to do something “right” with that money, for example getting it to his family, and through nothing less than the bounty of God, that has happened. It is nothing short of a miracle, really, as we had very little contact with him at all. I feel happy for him, to be able to do this for his family members in a last gesture.

Since his passing, I have had an image of Dan, healthy, happy, really like a big brother I never had, due to mental illness (and addictions). It is a nice image. It stays with me. As he said that last day, “I’m basically a nice guy. The people here, they all know that.” Dan’s heart was good. We do know that. He was an impossible man with impossible problems, and addictions which brought that selfishness which only addictions bring on a person. Total self centeredness. With those things lifted, he really did have a good heart.

He had a bunch of brightly colored, sharply sharpened pencils in his book bag as well. I gave them to Caspian, my 8-yr-old grandson. He is very proud to have them and has colored with them. Dan would be happy about that also.

published in our hometown paper today, Apr. 29th

Born in Lafayette on Feb. 2, 1946, he was the son of the late John and Martha Agnew, who were longtime Lafayette residents.
Mr. Agnew earned a bachelor of science degree in humanities and technology from Drexel University, worked in photography and created light shows for the Edmund Scientific Corp. He lived most of the past 20 years in Tucson, Ariz., and moved to California two years ago.
He was a member of the Baha’i Faith.
Surviving are two sisters, Carol Black of Newberry, S.C., and Susan White of Muncie; and a brother, James Agnew of Fishers.
Cremation will take place. Donations in his memory can be sent to Sharp Hospice Care, P.O. Box 1750, La Mesa, CA 91944.

“Know thou of a truth that the soul, after its separation from the body, will continue to progress until it attaineth the presence of God, in a state and condition which neither the revolution of the ages and centuries, nor the changes and chances of this world, can alter. It will endure as long as the Kingdom of God, His sovereignty, His dominion and power will endure. It will manifest the signs of God and His attributes, and will reveal His loving kindness and bounty.

Death proffereth unto every confident believer the cup that is life indeed. It bestoweth joy, and is the bearer of gladness. It conferreth the gift of everlasting life.

The mysteries of which man is heedless in this earthly world, those will he discover in the heavenly world, and there will he be informed of the secret of truth; how much more will he recognize or discover persons with whom he has been associated . . . Likewise, a love that one may have entertained for anyone will not be forgotten in the world of the Kingdom. Likewise, thou wilt not forget (there) the life that thou hast had in the material world.”

The soul is a precious thing. I think there is a closeness with a soul when they first leave this life. It is nothing spooky but another process. They are closer to us when they first go. There have been a few people who told me they thought of Dan this past week when they hadn’t thought of him recently. My daughter got up last night and painted a painting, when she hadn’t done that in ages! Another person felt maybe Dan played a little joke on him. It is yet another process. Perhaps they are reviewing their life. Perhaps they are thinking of their loved ones, anyone they had loved in this life. I have felt a great sense of relief since hearing of Dan’s passing, and I picture him today, smiling, burdens lifted, and no mental illness. It is a nice thing. Another friend wrote of Dan and described him as an artistic and gentle soul in many ways, and someone who liked to tell a silly joke and laugh about it. A number of times, Dan said something he considered rather funny, this past week, and he would suddenly laugh, his eyes lit up and his face smiling. Those were funny moments. Another person suggested that if Dan were born today, we may have had a better understanding of whatever mental conditions he was dealing with, and he would have had an easier time. But Dan’s life was Dan’s, and it is now ended. I am still in the process of detaching from all this past week. Today I threw my back out and feel extremely tired. I have to take it very easy this weekend. Still thinking through it all. It takes a while.

I cannot write a lot right now but will finish with this for now. I left Dan at 9:45 am this morning (California time), Friday April 24th, 2009. He was still breathing. One of the last things I did for him last night, was to cut his toenails. They were long, thick and totally disgusting. He really appeared exactly how he was, an older, alcoholic, homeless man. I felt really ticked off at him for not cutting his own toenails, as he kept a toenail clippers in his bookbag, and I told him so. I said, “Look, Dan, this is ridiculous, you could have cut your own damn toenails.” He was completely unresponsive today, totally out of it and no longer able to talk at all. So our last conversation was Wed., regarding him being aware that he got all his stuff returned to him in his room.

Anyway, I cut the dang, disgusting toenails. I had this funny thought, “Dan you can’t go to the mortuary looking like THAT!” I honestly didn’t want the cremation people getting his body with these long, disgusting toenails, some of which curled around the top of his toes, because it was very telling that he had no one taking care of him, and did not take care of himself. I had asked the nurses to do it but they ignored me, & I finally figured, “What the hell, I’ll cut them & be done with it.”

Later, I met Susan, the hospice social worker and told her. She said, “You are BOLD!” I said yes I am, but she told me that nurses will not cut toenails because of some liability possibility, and they have to call in a podiatrist. Our medical system is so screwed up, we could write an entire essay on that. Dan never would have had his nails cut because they’re not about to call a podiatrist on a dying man.

So I left Dan still breathing, at 9:45 this morning, and spent the rest of the day getting home. It has been so exhausting , there is a lot of emotion building up in me that I haven’t had a chance to let out because of always being WITH people, so a couple times on the plane(s) I nearly broke. It’s not that Dan and I were close. It’s just that a life is ending eternally, and Dan is a person who never fit into this world. How much is his own fault and how much is the world’s only God knows. Seeing him every day this week has left an emotional mark on myself and caused some sort of connection. Dan knew his family knew OF him. I don’t think he really believed that. When I first got there the very first day, the nurse at the hospital asked him, “Do you want to lay down now, Dan, and get some sleep?” and he said emphatically, “NO, I want to be with HER.”

As my plane landed in Columbia, back in South Carolina, I played a message from Sue and it said Dan had passed from this world at 10:44 pm. They had just called her as it was happening, and said they were “calling it”. They had come in to check and found him not breathing. So it probably occurred somewhat before that.

They say dying people wait for someone to get there before they die. I think Dan was waiting for me to leave. He couldn’t be “with her” meaning representatively with the family he has, anymore, so he finally quit. I also told him some of the family was already on the other side.

I was very happy to see my husband tonight. The air in South Carolina was warm, warmer even than San Diego, and there is a sweetness in the smell of the air, here.

Our brother, Daniel Thomas Agnew, died today, April 24th, somewhere around 10:44pm (South Carolina/ Indiana time), about 10 hours after I left him in California.

Thurs. night, Apr. 23rd
I am sitting in Dan’s room. He is struggling to breathe somewhat, but it is quiet and smooth. He is doped up with morphine. Hasn’t been conscious all day long. It is a waiting game now, just waiting for him to stop breathing. It may be tonight, or it may be tomorrow. I decided to stay here for the night, as they have a chair for me that I can lay back in, and a blanket. Jamal will pick me up in the morning and just drive me to the airport. I just think it is a shame for any person to be alone at death. I wish he would give up the fight but he is fighting to the very end. It is really unpleasant to be here, I am just doing my utmost and then will rest knowing I did all I could this last week of his life. Honestly, I will be glad to go home tomorrow. I told him in his ear, though he couldn’t respond, that this was the end of his life, he needed to go to other worlds, that this life was done, and if he saw other relatives there, to go to them. I even told him about the arrangements for his cremation and that his ashes would be scattered on the sea, and that his money had paid for it all, that all was arranged.

I am going to go out for a short walk now before it is dark, and possibly get a coffee in a coffee shop next door, if it is still open. There is a lay-down-chair in the hallway outside the door. I will bring it in later tonight, when the guests of the other man in this room, leave. They can’t even provide a single room. It is really disrespectful to the person dying, to the family members here, and to the man next to Dan, to have no single room for us to be in, in these final hours. It totally sucks. I asked for a single room and they said they had no space right now. Great for the guy next to us. Dan is taking a breath, then stopping for 10 seconds or so, then will take another breath. He seems comfortable for the most part. My sense is that he is struggling with his life being over.

I know that I am totally exhausted and will fall apart when I am really home. I’ll need to lay in bed for a day.

10:15 pm
The people next to Dan are a couple of brothers who got injured somehow in an “assault,” I heard one of them say on the phone. One of them lives here, I believe. The other one is visiting. He evidently won’t leave until his brother goes to sleep. I cannot figure out the “chair-bed” or lie in it until they leave. There was another woman here for the evening, either a sister or the wife of the one who lives here. She constantly bitched at the man who lives here whose name is Alan. If she is his wife, she needs to make something better of her life and be happy instead of resenting every moment they are together. They don’t seem to put anyone to bed in this place. There are some people in wheel chairs still in the hallways.

Dan just keeps breathing and slightly moaning. I feel like this will never end.

10:45pm
People that leave family members in these places for long periods of time should be shot. They suck. The people here are nice but it smells stuffy. There is a lady across the hall who occasionally starts yelling, “OH, no, oh no,” and then she will scream. Sometimes it is when they are changing her pads. She just starts doing it every once in awhile. Then her roomate will say to her, “Oh shut up.” There are some people who look rather young but are severely physically handicapped. One guy has a ponytail, looks to be about 40, maybe, never speaks, and has his foot in some sort of cast. He smokes cigarettes but never speaks. I saw one black man in here, severely handicapped, in a chair in the hallway. He seemed satisfied for the most part, and could tell the nurses what he wanted. He might be paraplegic. Another older lady goes around in her wheelchair and constantly worries about the animals. There are two dogs who live outside in the garden area, a rabbit in a cage, 10 parakeets inside in a large cage, and 2 other larger birds who started making loud bird calls to me earlier this evening when I sat next to them. Lights are on all night, Dan’s oxygen machine is going. They are just giving him morphine occasionally.

I think the guy whose brother lives here is also staying for the night. Not sure what to do about that. I will either sleep in the chair anyway, or go out into the parlor area (by the birds) and sleep on the small couch out there. It is now nearly 11pm. Night to remember.

Mostly white people in here, though I’ve seen a couple of black women as well. I think I’m going to go out and lay on the couch.

6:40am
About 3:30 I awoke (from a light and uncomfortable sleep) and thought maybe Dan was going. But no, he continues to take a breath. His breathing at that point became somewhat more shallow. So here we are. Maybe he is waiting for me to leave, rather than for someone to get here, as they say. He has no IV, his intake is nothing since yesterday morning, his output is nothing, and yet he continues. I wonder if in his mind he knows what is happening at this point, or if in his mind he still plans to get out of bed and escape this place. I spoke in his ear yesterday evening and told him all that was happening to him and what the arrangements are for him. Yet, knowing Dan, he is still planning to prove us all wrong. I feel bad that he may be alone at death in the end, but perhaps that is fitting, with his lifestyle, and the plan all along. Nurses give him morphine every 2 hours, in a squeeze tube into the mouth. His cremation bill has been paid, & all is done, except this man keeps breathing. My friend is scheduled to come pick me up and go to the airport in about 2.5 hours. I will leave a list of 2 Bahai prayers, plus the Lord’s prayer, on his bed. Perhaps someone will read them when they find him. All I can do is ask. Our Grandpa Plantenga, who Dan mentioned the other day, used to always say the Lord’s prayer at meals on holidays. With Dan’s use of churches for food and anything else they would give him, I thought that would be fitting. I really can’t wait to be on the plane. I have said prayers every once in awhile all night long, I have begged God to help him give up the struggle, all to no avail. I’ve been here at his bedside, waiting, waiting, and he is being stubborn. It may take some longer than others to sort through their life and go on to another one.

One last note: There is an expression, “the smell of death”. Well it is in this room. I think it is in Dan’s breath.

Today is probably the day that Dan will leave this world, for other worlds. He is no longer conscious, is in bed, still on oxygen and all they are giving him is morphine for pain. He is difficult to look at. His mouth is open and he struggles somewhat, to breathe. My feeling is that it will be tonight sometime, but by that time, I will no longer be in his room. It appears that he has hours to live.

Last night I spent 2 hours in prayer for him. I feel we have done about all we can do and it is now up to him, to give up the fight to keep breathing. Watching people this way really shows that it is a process. Some of it is up to the person him or herself. Each person has his or her own struggles with the transition, and unless it is sudden beyond their control (heart attack, car accident, or whatever), then it is a process of days. They are having their own conversations, with themselves, sometimes with relatives who have already passed on, or possibly thinking through their own life. I won’t know until I get there. But the body goes through similar changes. The nurses all know it. The person gradually breathes less regularly, and eventually their kidneys quit, and there is no output. Dan has been that way for nearly a day, now. If anyone will fight resignation, it will be him. He has survived many crises.

I told him Sue called about him today, even though he cannot respond. I actually got close to his ear, and told him, he is going on a trip, but not the kind he expected. I told him he is going on to other worlds of God. I said this life wasn’t so great, it is time to travel to others worlds. I said, this is what you always wanted to do, Dan, go traveling to new and exciting places.

Quickly, the other thing we got done today is paying for his own cremation and service, with his own money that was set up into an account, at this Community Convalescent facility. So all is prepared. He is to be cremated and his ashes scattered at sea. Sue and Jim and I had to give permission all together, each of us faxing the info. Another symbolic thing that brought us together, whether we realize it or not. How ironic is that, that the 3 of us had to give our permission for instructions for what to do with his remains.

I managed to walk to Panera to put this online, so now have to go back. I don’t know how long I have until my friend picks me up and needs to drive home.