Beautiful Cynicism III

Ce blog a été commencé le 25 octobre, 2005. Ca me fait triste que je ne fêterai pas son anniversaire… Mais l’heure pour les “au revoir”s est arrivé.

Hier, ma grand-mère était dehors pour la première fois depuis le 21 juillet. Quand ma tante est arrivée à l’hôpital pour sa visite quotidienne, ma grand-mère était assise dans une chaise roulante – seulement la troisième fois, et la première fois pendant qu’elle avait un visiteur. Il faisait beau dehors. Ma grand-mère était éveillée; elle a vu le ciel bleu, elle a senti le soleil sur son visage, le vent sur sa peau. Then last night she was laughing again, due to the stories and jokes of her sisters. Today, she went outside again.

Also today, doctors deflated her trach balloon (but left the trach tube in her throat), and are administering oxygen through her nose, rather than through the trach. This means that for the first time in 6 weeks, she can breathe through her nose – which also means that she can smell for the first time in 6 weeks. They are doing this just to see if she attempts swallowing on her own, and if she can still cough and clear her airway without assistance – one step closer to possibly removing all breathing apparatus in the future. Which is all rather good news, especially for someone most doctors had written off as a hopeless case.

La vie ici à Ublog était belle: ceci était mon premier blog, et il y a des gens sympa par ici. Je suis fière de cet espace. Rightly or wrongly, I’m proud of my blog. While this wasn’t my first crack at creating a virtual space (see here), it was my first foray into the fabled Blogland.

But I have been swamped with unsolicited ads for generic drugs, spoof websites, and pornography of all varieties, in waves of dozens or even hundreds at a time. Les propréitaires de ce plateforme ne répondent pas aux questions, ne donnent pas des conseils, ne font aucune chose pour aider leurs utilisateurs à combattre le spam. J’en ai marre, je n’en peux plus. Malheureusement, même après la fin de ce blog, lorsque je ferme les commentaires, les spammeurs trouveront un autre moyen de laisser leurs messages – comme ils le faisaient auparavant. Mon blog sera inondé par du spam même quand il est inactif. Snif.

My Baba and me

Je voulais écrire hier soir, mais U-blog ne fonctionnait que sporadiquement. En plus, j’avais des centaines de spams qui m’attendait. (Comme tous les jours, vraiment…)

I found a clutch of photos circa 1985. I thought these two were appropriate, given my mood these last few days.

Les dames dans ces deux photos sont mes grand-mères. Dans la première photo, en haut, on voit la mère de mon père; dans l’autre, c’est la mère de ma maman. My paternal grandmother died on August 26, 1994: 3 days before my birthday. She had been healthy, other than some arthritis, until April of that year. She was diagnosed with non-Hodgkin’s lymphoma and was hospitalised almost immediately, but still died within a few months. It all happened very quickly. It’s kind of a similar situation with my maternal grandmother. Elle était de bonne santé auparavant. Elle est toujours à l’hôpital, où l’on va tous les jours pour lui visiter. Les médecins savent maintenant que son état à présent n’est pas le résultat de l’accident d’automobile; elle avait un caillot de sang qui a causé un lésion cérébrale. Impossible à connaître combien de dommage il y aura, ou combien de temps elle prendra pour guérir. Tout qu’on peut faire c’est d’attendre. Je me souviens de mes grand-mères – une qui est mort, qui était très gentille et tranquille, et qui avait un rire infectueux; l’autre qui est malade, qui chantait et dansait beaucoup (elle joue la mandoline dans la photo), et qui a également un rire infectueux. Ces souvenirs sont un trésor pour moi.

L’été part lentement; il est 8h et mes doigts sont extrèmement froids pendant que je tape cette note – hier soir il était seulement 8 degrés! Mais le ciel est clair et le soleil se lève, et les oiseaux chantent et l’air est frais: le début d’une journée merveilleuse, n’est-ce pas? Je suis avec ma mère; elle a blessé son dos gravement (pourquoi pas? C’est l’été pour les blessures et les maladies…) et, malgré mon coude qui toujours fait mal, je dois l’aider avec les petits travaux, le ménage, etc. Plus tard, j’irai à l’hôpital, puis à un de mes restos préférés pour un repas en famille pour mon anniv, qui est aujourd’hui

Je ne sais pas quoi dire. Il y a certains dans ma famille qui pensent que ma grand-mère ne guérira jamais, qu’elle sera dans son état actuel pour la vie, qu’il n’y a plus d’espoir. Il y a des autres qui croient qu’elle continuera à persévérer, qu’elle lutte pour sa vie, pour son santé, que son état s’améliorera avec du temps. Une famille, deux avis très différents. Mon avis est quelque part entre ces deux perspectives opposées. Je pense que c’est encore trop tôt d’abandonner tout espoir. La condition de ma grand-mère améliore chaque jour, chaque semaine. Aujourd’hui elle a été “déménagé” pour la deuxième fois en dedans d’un mois, à un autre étage, car elle n’a plus besoin le niveau de soin qu’elle recevait ces derniers temps. C’est une bonne nouvelle, bien sûr! Mais la guérison n’est pas assez vite pour certains dans la famille. Je comprends, mais je perds patience avec eux. J’avoue que ça me frustre…

Amidst the discussion of my Baba’s condition and questions we have for the doctors and decisions that need to be made about future care, a religious/philosophical debate broke out. About 3/4 of an hour were spent arguing over what “God’s plan” is for my Baba and which elements of her current condition are expressions of “God’s will” blah blah blah… Not to be disrespectful here, but… Guessing what God has in store for us? Can you think of anything more pointless about which to argue? I don’t believe in God, so this is a moot point to me, but I did find it interesting that so many in my family have this faith (to varying degrees) that “God’s will” shall be done, that He answers prayers, etc… but they display such a blatant lack of faith in human will and spirit. To me, a much more interesting question than, “what does God want in regards to my Baba?” is, “what does my Baba want for herself?” Personally I put more stock in my grandmother’s beliefs and wants and hopes and dreams, rather than the alleged and impossible-to-know-or-interpret plans of an abstract deity.

Aside from some mostly private skirmishes with the nursing staff (my family does seem to make friends *so* easily around the hospital – note the sarcasm…), it all went off without a hitch. Eleven of us were allowed into the IICU at once (just the immediate family plus spouses); we surrounded my Baba’s bed and sang ‘Happy Birthday’ as well as ‘Mnohya Lita’ (traditional Ukrainian well-wishing song). There were smiles and tears, and pictures too. Later, about 30 other family members crowded into the Visitor’s Lounge next door, snacking on homemade cupcakes, cheese and crackers, and fresh fruit, prepared by one of my aunts (the fruit trays were not nearly as elaborate as my grandmother’s are – she was becoming as famous for them as she was for her dill pickles and perogies). My grandmother had to put up with a steady stream of visitors for the remainder of the evening. The wall next to her bed is covered in greeting cards; there were so many, we ran out of tacks with which to hang them. And on the table at the foot of her bed, right in her line of sight when she opens her eyes, stands a vase of fresh flowers – bright yellow gerbera daisies, bunches of lavender, and pale yellow roses (her favourite).

Folklorama is a yearly festival spanning 2 weeks in August., a summer tradition here in Winnipeg. There are dozens of pavilions, each featuring one country or region’s cuisine and entertainment. Each year it draws around a half a million people to the city. I visit at least a few favourite pavilions every year, even if the whole idea of Folklorama is a tad simplistic. (Boiling down each ethnicity to a few traditional costumes and dances and some regional cuisine is somewhat stereotypical, don’t you think? But it is generally good fun.) The diverse ethnic communities in the city get to showcase their traditional food, dance, dress, religion and customs, and the general public seems to love it.

When you get into a tight place and everything goes against you, till it seems as though you could not hang on a minute longer, never give up then, for that is just the place and time that the tide will turn.
-Harriet Beecher Stowe

I have sometimes been wildly, despairingly, acutely miserable, but through it all I still know quite certainly that just to be alive is a grand thing.
-Agatha Christie

What lies behind us and what lies before us are tiny matters compared to what lies within us.
-Ralph Waldo Emerson

And my personal favourite at the moment (it could be my motto for this summer):

Et voilà. 7h22: je ne dors pas. Quelques heures de sommeil ce soir, c’est tout; je serai fatiguée encore une fois. Maybe one day I’ll learn to sleep again… An overcast but bright sky is heralding the new day. Jeudi sera l’anniversaire de ma grand-mère. Malheureusement, elle doit le fêter à l’hôpital. After the accident, before her heart stopped beating, she was already lamenting the fact that she would likely still be sore and injured for her birthday – and this was almost a month ago! Little did she know just how injured she would be. Ma famille sombre; je me suis rendu compte que tout le monde pensait que la guérison de ma grand-mère devrait être vite. Vu qu’elle est encore très malade, 3 semaines et demi après l’accident, mon grand-père, mon oncle, mes tantes deviennent très inquiètes, et déprimés. Ma mère semble un peu mieux qu’auparavant. As for me, I’m actually feeling a little better. It’s strange: when the family visits my Baba in hospital, that’s when they seem to get the most discouraged. It’s as if they’ve resigned themselves to the idea that this is “as good as it gets”. For me, however, it’s the opposite. It’s when I’m at my Baba’s bedside that I feel the most hopeful, the most positive. I see all the progress she’s made in the past few weeks, and while they may not be giant leaps, they are definite steps in the right direction, and she is leagues ahead of where she was 3 weeks ago. Nobody else seems to see this. Elle ne bougeait presque pas dans la salle de réanimation. Ses yeux étaient fermés presque tout le temps, et quand ils étaient ouverts, ils ne nous regardaient pas directement. Elle avait une fièvre, de la pneumonie, deux caillots de sang dans ses poumons. Son visage était obscurci et blessé par des divers tubes intraveineux. Elle avait besoin d’un respirateur. Now, she is moving her arms and legs and shoulders all the time, as though she’s constantly stretching. The pneumonia that she caught in the hospital has long since cleared up. The status of the blood clots are unknown, as they apparently don’t retest (how silly is that?), but she’s been treated for them since the moment they found them. She’s had 2 surgeries, which, along with her improving condition, have allowed for the removal of nearly all intravenous lines, and her face is now clear of tubes and tape, and is bruise-free. And while her eyes are still closed much of the time, she opens them more often, and she opens them wide and focusses on whoever is speaking to her. “Ne craignez pas d’être lent, craignez seulement d’être à l’arrêt.” (Proverbe chinois) Ce sont des petits pas, mais c’est du progrès, quand même. Hier quand je lui ai visité, elle a ouvert ses yeux, tourné sa tête vers moi, m’a regardé directement dans les yeux, et m’a offert un grand sourire. Comment ne pas réjouir de cela?

Alors, je mets une photo des fleurs, surtout parce que ces couleurs me font heureuse, mais aussi parce que j’achèterai des fleurs pour ma grand-mère pour son anniversaire. Flowers were banned in the ICU, but I believe that no such restrictions exist on the 5th floor. Now that my Baba’s awake more often, I want her to be able to see a burst of beautiful colours whenever her eyes are open.

It seems like such a selfish and inconsequential thing to say, when there is so much more going on in the world, so much suffering, so much seriousness… And I sit worrying about fatigue and an aching elbow? Mais je ne dors plus – seulement 3 ou 4 heures par nuit récemment. Et je ne mange pas bien du tout – un ou deux “repas” par jour, souvent de la nourriture peu appétisante du cafétéria à l’hôpital (sur la carte d’hier: macaroni au fromage et les “anneaux d’oignon” – quel repas merveilleux pour un service de santé, si nutritif et sain…). Si j’ajoute ça à ma déshydratation chronique (je vous jure, je ne suis jamais soif!), je me sens très malsaine ces derniers jours. Il va falloir que je me retire de la situation un peu. Which will be a bit easier, as things have progressed slightly. Yesterday my grandmother was moved from the ICU to the IICU – intermediate intensive care, a step down in care. Meaning she is stable enough not to warrant the critical care she needed before. Now the family is getting used to a new floor with new nurses and new protocols. There are only 4 patients in the IICU at one time, and 2 nurses, so the care is still very comprehensive, but there is just so much more breathing space, both physically and metaphorically. The beds are in one large, airy room, with curtains separating the patients. Each bed has a window, letting in natural light. The area is amenable to visitors, with plenty of room and chairs to spare – and visiting seems to be encouraged on this ward (unlike in the cramped ICU, where we more often felt like a nuisance). And also unlike the ICU, where there was always a dour, pessimistic mood hanging in the air, in the IICU the nurses speak of “when” – not “if”, and are eager to discuss future treatment plans – rather than refusing to talk about the future “in case there isn’t much of one”, or adding the caveat: “…but remember, things don’t look good.” The attitude is more positive, and I hope that rubs off on some of the family who have been worn down by the experience of the past few weeks. I’ve been one of the only ones refusing to “give up” on my grandmother and willing to give her all the time she needs to heal – which is odd, for a supposed cynic