Random Thoughts

 

We got home last night around 8 pm after driving for nearly two hours in the dark, during rain.  It was a black and not pleasant end to the trip.

I was (and still am) very tired.  I am trying to sum up the experience, without being too judgmental of what I did.  In the end, I did the best I could under the circumstances.  Nothing negative about the people I worked with - just the fact that my body is old, been rode hard and put away wet too many times.  And physically, things get difficult.  I could have done better, if I had been feeling better, but things are what they are and sometimes you just have to keep focused on getting stuff done.

I am beyond grateful for the team I worked with, and will continue to work with during the next phase - the post-production.  We filmed out of sequence in order to get everything done in a timely fashion, and the person who does the editing will have to go through all that footage and make chronological sense of it to create a narrative that will make sense to the viewer.  Then captions will be added for those who find them helpful/essential.  There are other production items that will need to be added that will also aid in the student learning what they want to know.  Hopefully I've covered the bases.

The bonus for me is that I get to interact with the students, if they wish, and provide follow up and guidance if I wasn't clear enough during filming.  One of the nice things about a crew who also weave is that they monitored what I was saying and demonstrating and if they felt I needed to add more context or re-do, we did re-takes.  They also understood without my needing to explain what needed to be seen on camera.  Hopefully we managed to get it all.

So on this thanksgiving, I have much to be grateful for, and I am.  

That doesn't mean I'm happy about my current state of affairs, and I continue to try and make my life simpler and easier, in large part because I feel I still have things I need to do.  I just have to adjust my expectations of what those things might be and allow my body the space to move more slowly than I'd like it to.

I'm grateful for friends who care enough to speak firmly to me when they feel I am going astray - getting caught up in negative thoughts.  It's especially challenging right now as I continue to isolate as much as possible and don't have those special moments where we can sit and share a cup of something, chat, and laugh over the absurdities of life.

As I continue to live with chronic pain, I think about my father who had 6 plus years of it, with pretty much nothing tamping it down.  Even after medical staff finally just gave him as much morphine as they could, he remained aware to the very last breath he took.  

I know other people dealing with chronic pain, and everyone does the best they can but some pain simply cannot be treated with ordinary pain killers.  

Not too long ago Canada passed legislation that allowed people with severe chronic illness to choose the day of their death.  Yesterday someone I know made that journey across the rainbow bridge.  They had been dealing with cancer for 20 years with pain growing ever larger in their life.  People with such pain do not medicate to be pain free - they medicate to 'function' - as best they can.  This person had reached the point where in order to control their pain they were effectively comatose.   They were tired.  Exhausted, from the effort to balance medications, keep functioning to some sort of quality of life.  There was no healing for them, no getting better, just day after day of 'worse'.  Like my dad.

They worked with a death doula, submitted the request for end of life, then set about organizing a celebration of life - *their* life - where people could come and say goodbye, share stories, laughter, gratitude.  

They chose this weekend - thanksgiving weekend - to acknowledge that their life had been valuable to them, but that they were tired.  They choose a good day to die.  After the public gathering, they went to a more private location where all was made ready, and during a fireworks display, they went out with a bang, a blaze of glory, having said their goodbyes, their thanks to the family and friends who helped and supported them for so many years.

Some people with disabilities are worried that they might be pressured into choosing this road when they don't want to.  I understand their fears and I hope they never will be under that kind of pressure.

But for my father, who spoke often about wanting to stop the pain, wanting to drive into a bridge abutment, wanted to be free of a body breaking down with no end in sight but more pain?  I wish he had had that choice.

When mom was told there was no more hope or treatment for her and all they could do was keep her comfortable, she was transferred to hospice where they could do that more easily.  At first she instructed me to tell her friends she would not have visitors.  I told her she had to let her friends and family come say goodbye.  It was the final stage in a life lived fully - to know that you were loved and would be missed.  And so she reluctantly agreed.  And then drank in the love to help her make the final journey.

Both my friend and my mother left this life grateful for having been here, but both knew they had reached the limit of what they could do.  I know not everyone will understand, but I do.

We don't talk about death much these days.  Maybe we should.  So I'm going to say, right now, everyone should have a will.  If you write it down, including end-of-life instructions, your loved ones will know what you want to have happen if you become unable to say it for yourself.  

Having a will means survivors will know your last wishes and hopefully there will be no arguments about who gets what.  No confusion if you really did want to be intubated to prolong your life.  Or not.  Organ donation, if you are in a position to donate part of your body and you would like that to happen.  Making your wishes known is an enormous gift you make to your family.

So this weekend, I reflect and think about  my life and all the things I have to be grateful for.  All the experiences I have had.  The places I've been, the people I've met.  I have had a full life, and while I do have some regrets, even my mistakes have been valuable.  Because each mistake taught a lesson and I can be grateful for the lesson.

I am not advocating for everyone who is in pain to rush to end their lives.  I'm just saying that sometimes we simply cannot know what another person is going through and choosing such an exit means there is the chance to say goodbye, hug, laugh, cry and go out with dignity, surrounded by your loved ones - those who wish to be there.  So last night when I heard the fireworks, I sent my thoughts to my friend who was going out under their terms, choosing to go amidst family and friends and their loving presence.  And knew that they were pain free, for the first time in years.

Today I will begin putting my studio back to rights, I have a warp ready to sley, and who knows, might even begin weaving.  Or just take it easy and get back to the loom tomorrow.

It is good to be grateful, yes, even the little things, even when the big picture is crappy.  Sometimes I have to dig very hard for the silver lining in the clouds, but if I try, I can always find something.  Like the sun shining on the autumn finery of the trees I can see from my kitchen window.  The photo doesn't do it justice, honestly.

So, in honour of thanksgiving, I opened my little book of gratitude and came across this by Kahlil Gibran:

Peace be with you, Life!

Peace be with you, Awakening!

Peace be with you, Revelation!

Peace be with you, oh Day, who

Engulfs the darkness of the earth

With thy brilliant light!

Peace be with you, oh Night,

Through whose darkness the lights

Of heaven sparkle!

Peace be with you, Seasons of the Year!

Peace be with you, Spring, who

Restores the earth to youth!

Peace be with you, Summer, who

Heralds the glory of the sun!

Peace be with you, Autumn, who

Gives with joy the fruits of

Labour and the harvest of toil!

Peace be with you, Winter, whose

Rage and tempest restore to

Nature her sleeping strength!