Dad is sitting in his favorite recliner, answering questions for a reporter from the Sacramento Bee (Anita Creamer). He is talking about Mom and her love of music, and how that love of music affected those she loved. Now he's talking about her love of God. All of the questions about himself have been answered with a few terse sentences, but one question about Mom has called forth a seamless, fluid description of her defining characteristics. I love how much he loves her.
The reporter just left and now we're sitting in the family room listening to Bach, Orff, and Handel. Dad is closing his eyes and waving his hand to the beat of "The Harmonious Blacksmith". During my childhood, he would often invite me into his office, close the door, turn up the stereo, and simply sit back into his chair. I knew this meant that he had just had a special moment with some piece of music, and he wanted to share it with me. I remember when he first introduced me to Respighi's "Pines of Rome". The ground shaking with the fanfare, and Dad watching me, waiting to see if I understood the beauty of it.
Another memory: on Sundays after dinner, Dad and the kids would clean up while Mom went straight to the piano to practice. I developed the habit of laying down under the piano (it was a baby grand) and dozing off while she played. Whenever she asked if I had any requests, I always wanted "Arabesque #1" by Debussy. Somehow an association was forged between my mom and that song, so that every time I hear it I can feel the texture of the rug on my back, the piano is vibrating above me, and Mom is lost in her fingers at the keyboard.
Dad is doing well. He has been diligent at his breathing exercises, and he pushes himself to his limits each day. The daily progress is visible to us, his children, even though we are constantly with him.
Tuesday, July 21, 2009
Saturday, July 18, 2009
Arrival at home
Dad was discharged from Kaiser yesterday. After a discussion with the doctor covering his case, Dad decided that it was time to come home. Some very special people have done amazing things to ensure that he is comfortable here. He is (and we are) infinitely appreciative.
We just finished our first breakfast together with Dad.
We just finished our first breakfast together with Dad.
Friday, July 17, 2009
Update on Kent, July 17
Late last evening (July 16th), a medical supply truck stopped at our house and dropped off an adjustable hospital bed. We pushed the dinner table to the side and assembled the bed in the dining room. Some friends arrived an hour later to help install some drapes that will function as a privacy barrier. Tomorrow, we are expecting another delivery: a wheelchair and a walker.
All of this is happening because Dad is coming home within the next 2 or 3 days. Kaiser, bless their hearts, would feel fine discharging him tonight, but we feel that he needs a few more days under the supervision of medical professionals. Even though his appetite and energy continue to increase daily, he still has a hard time walking down the hall without becoming utterly exhausted. Also, we have been concerned about a pain that seems to be increasing in his left shoulder.
He has, however, made the transition to oral drugs (Norco and Morphine), and his mind has been very clear for the past week. He still doesn't remember the accident, but he now knows everything that we know, and has been heavily involved in the planning of the memorial services for Mom. From his hospital bed, he has been counseling, encouraging, and entertaining us. He is, thank goodness, back at the head of this family in the most important ways.
All of this is happening because Dad is coming home within the next 2 or 3 days. Kaiser, bless their hearts, would feel fine discharging him tonight, but we feel that he needs a few more days under the supervision of medical professionals. Even though his appetite and energy continue to increase daily, he still has a hard time walking down the hall without becoming utterly exhausted. Also, we have been concerned about a pain that seems to be increasing in his left shoulder.
He has, however, made the transition to oral drugs (Norco and Morphine), and his mind has been very clear for the past week. He still doesn't remember the accident, but he now knows everything that we know, and has been heavily involved in the planning of the memorial services for Mom. From his hospital bed, he has been counseling, encouraging, and entertaining us. He is, thank goodness, back at the head of this family in the most important ways.
Tuesday, July 14, 2009
memories of Kathy
Mostly in private conversation, countless stories about my mother have come out of the woodwork. Whether they are funny, sad, inspiring, or even just plain boring, they bring out new facets of my mother's life and help me to see her in a different light. I would like to start collecting them for posterity. I want my children to know not only the Kathy that I knew, but also the Kathy that is revealed in these countless quiet interactions with people outside of the immediate family. I realize that this may not be the ideal place to share some of these memories, but if you have such a memory, please consider sharing it. If you'd rather share it with me in private, please feel free to email me at danielkentwood@gmail.com
Here is something I gave to my mom on her birthday two years ago. It isn't necessarily a memory about her, but it is, as Robert Frost put it, the result of a "lump in the throat" and a homesickness while thinking about her. I had forgotten about it, but I came across it yesterday and thought it might resonate with some of the readers of this blog. I use the image of a tree to describe my mother's deft balance of relentless curiosity and innocence. She was both wise and pure; both liberal in her interests and focused in her commitments. I have always admired this about her.
May 26, 2007
She is a strong tree,
Happily, knowingly, restingly bearing
A nesting of trees within trees
She musically resonates
A perfectly disturbed pond-nova
Of white pulp and fiber,
A cross-section history of selves in alignment.
Always growing over what scars
May be born of a constant movement
In order to stay still
She has stood in her own grove,
When the wind seeking her genuflection
With violence to bring her head low,
She first bends her will and head
Lowly with love,
Leaves and branches whistling musically.
As music is both the notes and the cathedral,
She equally listens, reflects, and sings:
Her life is an arabesque
Of shaping without hands,
A delicacy of intervention and trust
Both load-bearing and free-standing
I have to smile with pride—
Half the life of a tree
And she, precociously bearing far more rings
Than years.
She knows that we are, most of all,
Our very last ring
And she knows that the last ring
Is also the youngest.
She refuses to believe that knowledge kills.
Somewhere along the way,
She learned, as promised,
That the tree of life
Really can be grafted
Into the tree of knowledge,
But her accomplishment is something other:
She’s happily, knowingly, and restingly bearing
The operation.
Here is something I gave to my mom on her birthday two years ago. It isn't necessarily a memory about her, but it is, as Robert Frost put it, the result of a "lump in the throat" and a homesickness while thinking about her. I had forgotten about it, but I came across it yesterday and thought it might resonate with some of the readers of this blog. I use the image of a tree to describe my mother's deft balance of relentless curiosity and innocence. She was both wise and pure; both liberal in her interests and focused in her commitments. I have always admired this about her.
May 26, 2007
She is a strong tree,
Happily, knowingly, restingly bearing
A nesting of trees within trees
She musically resonates
A perfectly disturbed pond-nova
Of white pulp and fiber,
A cross-section history of selves in alignment.
Always growing over what scars
May be born of a constant movement
In order to stay still
She has stood in her own grove,
When the wind seeking her genuflection
With violence to bring her head low,
She first bends her will and head
Lowly with love,
Leaves and branches whistling musically.
As music is both the notes and the cathedral,
She equally listens, reflects, and sings:
Her life is an arabesque
Of shaping without hands,
A delicacy of intervention and trust
Both load-bearing and free-standing
I have to smile with pride—
Half the life of a tree
And she, precociously bearing far more rings
Than years.
She knows that we are, most of all,
Our very last ring
And she knows that the last ring
Is also the youngest.
She refuses to believe that knowledge kills.
Somewhere along the way,
She learned, as promised,
That the tree of life
Really can be grafted
Into the tree of knowledge,
But her accomplishment is something other:
She’s happily, knowingly, and restingly bearing
The operation.
Monday, July 13, 2009
Memorial service for Mom
After speaking with a doctor today, we are confident that Dad will be able to attend a memorial service for Mom on the 27th of July. Here are the details:
Monday, July 27, 2009
11:00am
Mormon Center at Temple Hill
2100 California Circle
Rancho Cordova, CA
All are invited.
Dad's body continues to heal. He walks, talks, and eats a bit more each day (although the small amount of eating is still an issue; they started giving him meal supplements today). The main issues keeping him at the hospital are (1) the lack of a steady pain management regimen and (2) the weakness of his limbs and lungs. Now we wait. I think even Dad would agree that now, with the end in sight, the waiting isn't so difficult.
Monday, July 27, 2009
11:00am
Mormon Center at Temple Hill
2100 California Circle
Rancho Cordova, CA
All are invited.
Dad's body continues to heal. He walks, talks, and eats a bit more each day (although the small amount of eating is still an issue; they started giving him meal supplements today). The main issues keeping him at the hospital are (1) the lack of a steady pain management regimen and (2) the weakness of his limbs and lungs. Now we wait. I think even Dad would agree that now, with the end in sight, the waiting isn't so difficult.
Saturday, July 11, 2009
Update on Kent, July 11
Dad has lost a significant amount of weight in the last few days. He isn't getting nutrition from a feeding tube, and he gets exhausted when he sits up to eat, so he doesn't eat very much. His appetite grows a little each day, though, and he is now eating solids. He had french toast for breakfast and a cheeseburger for lunch. After tasting nothing but tube for weeks, his tastebuds must be very happy.
Two more big milestones today:
1. The neck brace came off. This brace was more of a precaution than anything else, but it was very uncomfortable, and Dad is happy to be rid of it.
2. He walked around the room twice today (with the help of a walker). Also, he sat in a wheelchair while Elisabeth took him around the hospital grounds.
The lung infection seems to be retreating. His white blood cell count is moving down and the amount of secretion from his lungs has tapered off.
We would just like to remind local friends that, while his condition is improved, he is still in a very delicate situation, and it is draining for him to entertain guests (although he would never say this to anyone). Until his condition is more stable, please be sure to check with a member of the family prior to visiting. It won't be long before he'll have the strength to freely visit with friends and members of the stake.
Two more big milestones today:
1. The neck brace came off. This brace was more of a precaution than anything else, but it was very uncomfortable, and Dad is happy to be rid of it.
2. He walked around the room twice today (with the help of a walker). Also, he sat in a wheelchair while Elisabeth took him around the hospital grounds.
The lung infection seems to be retreating. His white blood cell count is moving down and the amount of secretion from his lungs has tapered off.
We would just like to remind local friends that, while his condition is improved, he is still in a very delicate situation, and it is draining for him to entertain guests (although he would never say this to anyone). Until his condition is more stable, please be sure to check with a member of the family prior to visiting. It won't be long before he'll have the strength to freely visit with friends and members of the stake.
Friday, July 10, 2009
Update on Kent, July 10
Dad was moved to a Kaiser facility in Roseville yesterday. His new room is much bigger and quieter than the one in the UC Davis ICU. There have been a few minor kinks in the transition, mostly due to poor communication between Davis and Kaiser, but overall this has been a positive development. The really great news is that Dad's breathing is no longer being supplemented with oxygen, and his feeding tube is gone. By the time I left this afternoon, he had eaten pudding, oatmeal, and some vanilla ice cream that we smuggled in. More good news: there is a DVD player. We brought him 'The Rocketeer', 'The Magnificent Seven', 'Planet Earth', and a few others. His mind gets sharper each day, along with his sense of humor. Jason and I were discussing who would be staying the night with Dad tonight, when Dad interjected, "Boys, I've been thinking about it, and I think I'll stay the night tonight. I don't want you to get lonely."
His physical therapy session today was sobering. They had him stand up for a few minutes, and they want to get him walking soon. Even after the infection and lung damage are healed, there will be a long period of recovering from the extended inactivity.
We love and miss the nurses at the UC Davis ICU. They were exceptionally attentive and compassionate. Root beer floats coming soon.
His physical therapy session today was sobering. They had him stand up for a few minutes, and they want to get him walking soon. Even after the infection and lung damage are healed, there will be a long period of recovering from the extended inactivity.
We love and miss the nurses at the UC Davis ICU. They were exceptionally attentive and compassionate. Root beer floats coming soon.
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