Saying goodbye to Eileen

A few months later, Paul and I were called early one morning when Eileen had another, even more devastating, stroke. She was uncommunicative. This time there was no argument - Paul, Eileen's doctor, and I were all in complete agreement about NO extraordinary measures being taken to extend her life.

We set up a rota of folks from St John's - Eileen was rarely alone. In the evening, about three days after that stroke, our friend Carole-Jean and I were sitting with Eileen. She became restless, and then it became clear to us that she was dying. We had the Book of Common Prayer with us, and Carole-Jean began reading the Commendation at the Time of Death. I have done this now for a number of friends as they died, and I find it so powerful. "Receive, Oh Lord, a lamb of your own flock, a sheep of your fold." Eileen began to bleed out from her mouth, which was not unexpected. I grabbed gloves and a towel from the bathroom so that I could keep her clean and comfortable. As she was dying, I was telling her goodbye, and telling her that I loved her -- and all the while, the solemn words of prayer were cradling her on this new journey. Eileen died after just a few minutes.

Carole-Jean and I finished the Commendation at the time of death, cleaned up Eileen, and then notified the nurses that she was gone. I called Paul, called St. John's, called the funeral director Eileen had requested. I stayed with her until they came to pick up her body.

We had the usual funeral service at St. John's -- received her body in the evening with prayers, had visting hours from 7-9PM (like a wake, but in the church). I hate open coffins... I find the custom meaningless, and for me an open coffin pretty much typifies the "american way of death." And this is the ONLY time I have ever said this... but Eileen really looked fabulous. She was almost 80, and had aged terribly in those last few months after her stroke. But the funeral director did her makeup and her hair just beautifully. After the wake, we closed Eileen's coffin and covered it with a pall, then all chanted Compline (Evening Prayer) at 9PM. For the next twelve hours, members of the parish took turns at the overnight vigil, sitting with Eileen and reciting the Psalms.

Eileen's funeral was fine, and I think she would have been pleased with her sendoff from St. John's. I did lose one argument - -I wanted "Abide With Me" as a hymn at the funeral, because those lyrics really spoke to me of Eileen's lifelong devotion. But the music director felt strongly that the old traditional hymn had no place in that liturgy ... which made me sad.

After the funeral, we processed to the back of the church... but no one was there from the funeral home, and the hearse was not there. We waited. And waited. And called the funeral home. And waited some more. It was really hard!!! And at one point someone made us all laugh by saying "Can you just *hear* Eileen saying 'Isn't this just like St John's!!!'") The hearse finally did arrive.

About two weeks later, we buried Eileen's ashes in the Memorial Garden at St John's, as she had requested. (Paul and I were surprised by how very heavy Eileen's ashes were... Paul joked with me and asked whether they might have also cremated her wheelchair... ) She is buried not far from our friend Rick, who had also been her friend.

Eileen was a feisty, funny, spunky old lady who had an amazing life despite, or maybe because of, her many many trials and tribulations... and knowing her enriched our lives immeasurably.

Eileen had a stroke....

After a couple of years of doing better... and VERY much enjoying being able to go to St John's for Mass a couple of times each month... Eileen had a severe stroke.

Paul and I were her healthcare proxies. We spent time with her at Beth Israel - she was unable to speak, unable to move very much, and unable to eat. The doctors wanted to put in a feeding tube. Paul and I argued that Eileen did NOT want that level of "extraordinary measures" - that feisty, independent old lady would hate the idea of continuing to exist in such a diminished state. The doctors really dug in their heels, saying that despite this catastropic stroke, the feeding tube would enable Eileent to enjoy many more months, possibly years, of excellent quality of life, When it became clear that we would end up in court if we continued to push back, we allowed them to insert the feeding tube.

Eileen was moved to a nursing home in nearby Brighton. After a couple of weeks, when it was 100 percent clear that Eileen would never be able to live at home again, Paul and I went to her little apartment and cleared it out, freeing that space for another disabled person. Not the first time I cleared out a living space... nor the last... but it's always an emotional and difficult task.

One day when I arrived at the nursing home, I could hear Eileen yelling all the way down the hall. She never regained much meaningful speech, but those yells were pretty eloquently conveying that she was VERY unhappy... and that was just not like our Eileen! So I looked into it a bit... turns out that the nursing assistants were unaware of, or not paying sufficient attention to, Eileen's hypersensitivity to touch, caused by her spinal stenosis. When she was at home, she dressed in as little as possible - usually just a very loose housedress - because she could not tolerate even the feeling of cloth on her skin. When the aides changed Eileen, they were handling her exactly as they would handle anyone else -- not roughly, but in a brisk "get on with the task" fashion -- and this was causing excruciating pain for her. When we engaged with the nursing supervisors and talked to the aides, we learned that they really had no idea - they thought she was just a cranky complainer. (NOT!)

Our concerns were effectively conveyed to the aides, and I did not hear Eileen yelling again. During that terribly difficult period, it did occur to us to wish that the doctors from BI could visit Eileen and bear witness to her "excellent quality of life."

One of the hardest things for me during this period -- Eileen seemed to lose most interest in her faith. Eileen was the most faithful of Episcopalians, and had just about worn out her old prayer book. But after the stroke, when we would bring her communion, she would allow the prayers, but not seem particularly engaged by them.

I could apply many labels to those months in the nursing home, but "enjoying excellent quality of life" would not be one of them.

Eileen and Rick

One day our friend Rick was taking Eileen somewhere in his car. He got her into the front seat, wheelchair in the trunk... then, just being cute and funny, he threw a handful of condoms into Eileen's then-79 year old lap. Eileen said "No, thanks, I have some." Rick was speechless.... it took them a couple of minutes to sort it out, and then they both laughed and laughed.... Eileen had thought he was giving her breath mints, and she already had some in her purse! Eileen told that story over and over again... she thought it was a hoot.

The following January, I came home to an answering machine with birthday greetings, including Rick's complete rendition of "Happy Birthday." About two weeks later, I received a phone call from a friend -- Rick had taken his own life. He was a handsome, smart, very funny man who had battled depression for years -- and who finally surrendered to that darkness. I talked to Paul, and we agreed to meet at Eileen's at 7:30 the following morning, to tell her in person about Rick before we went to work.

Eileen knew that something was up -- it was very unusual for us to visit her so early on a weekday. We sat at her kitchen table with our tea... and told her about Rick. The three of us sat there for a long time, telling stories and grieving for our friend.

We buried Rick's ashes in the Memorial Garden at St. John's. Eileen continued to talk about him, and continued to tell the story about the condoms in Rick's car.

Getting to know Eileen

I first met Eileen on Thanksgiving, around 1987. I had attended Mass at St John's (Episcopalian) and had helped with Thanksgiving dinner for the homeless. Our priest was taking a meal to several shut-ins, and I offered to drive her around. Stop #1 .... Eileen. Eileen had polio as a child, and was not able to walk unassisted.... she had been in a wheelchair for years. She was in her late 70s when I met her. I liked her very much -- she had a tremendous spirit, and a wicked sense of humor. So I asked if I could come and visit her again... and so we became friends. At that time, Eileen was also dealing with post-polio syndrome, and with spinal stenosis - both of which were very painful. When I would visit, she would be in good spirits... always interested in any scoop from St John's. She had been a member there for decades... I was a relative newcomer. She refused to eat lunch downstairs in her building - everyone in her building was elderly, disabled, or both - said she did not need that. So she would take care of herself in her little studio apartment.

Things went along like that for a couple of years - I would visit, we would chat. She had a couple of old stories that I had heard many times by then, but that was ok.

One night my phone rang, and it was Eileen - something had happened - I don't remember what -- she had fainted or was in more pain than usual, and she was frightened. I could not visit her that evening - and in desperation, called my dear friend Paul, who lived in the same town as Eileen. I asked him to go to see her. Paul was the most accomodating of men, but this time he balked - said he did not know her, would not know what to say to her, was not comfortable doing this, etc. I was very concerned about her -- it was *extremely* unusual for feisty, independent Eileen to ask for help. So I talked for a long time... told Paul that he would not have to worry about what to say, because after "Hello," Eileen would carry the conversational ball, no problem. And told him I was worried. We went around several times, and he finally agreed to pay her a visit.

They had a fine visit, and Paul got hooked too. He visited her frequently, taking her lunch on a Saturday, stopping by for tea after work. She knew that we were best friends - sometimes we would visit her together. One of my favorite memories - I picked Paul up on Christmas morning, and we headed over to Eileen's, bearing gifts. She buzzed us through the security door. When we got to her floor, she had wheeled herself out into the hallway, and greeted us with a loud and merry "Ho Ho Ho" - and she was wearing a Santa hat. We all had a lovely Christmas morning together - that year, Paul and I had asked a friend to take a roll of snapshots of the two of us. We had framed one of those shots for Eileen, and she was simply delighted with her gift.

In 1990, Eileen had surgery on her spine - very scary for her! The surgery was successful, and she had some relief from the excruciating pain of the spinal stenosis. After some time in rehab, she was back in her tiny little studio apartment, and doing well. Eileen had not been to Mass in years - the priests and lay Eucharistic ministers would bring her Communion regularly, but the social butterfly in the wheelchair missed the social time at the church. So after weeks and weeks of discussion and planning, Eileen prepared to attend Mass. I went to her apartment that morning - she was SO excited! (I was not able to attend Mass myself that morning - long story, but my then-partner and I were in the process of breaking up, and we had made an agreement to alternate Sundays since my being in church made her uncomfortable. I asked for an exception for Eileen's return to church - but my partner held me to our agreement.) So after church I was waiting at her little apartment, and she told me ALL about her wonderful day. She had quite the triumphal return to St John's ... during the announcements, they brought her up to the front of the church so that the community could applaud and welcome her home.

On Sundays when Eileen felt strong enough, one of us would pick her up and drive her to St John's. At that time, there was no handicap access to St John's. Eileen's body was damaged... but she was not small, frail, or lightweight -- three of us would be needed to pick her up, wheelchair and all, and carry her up the long flight of stairs into the church. During this exercise, Eileen would pray loudly and laugh the entire time. A previous rector had called her "the queen" - and she would laugh about how the Queen was being carried royally into the church.

Others from the church became involved... several folks offered to drive her to church on Sundays. Our friend Rick was a visiting nurse, and he first saw her professionally. But after a couple of visits, he was also hooked, and Eileen had another friend.

Eileen was one hot ticket.

Being a child in the 1950s - playing outside

When I think about my childhood, many of my memories involve playing outside. We got our first TV when I was around 7. My parents decided that we just would not engage in "Of course I have finished my homework and can watch TV" discussions, so the TV was off limits during the week. In the 50s, there were no video games or other electronic distractions; after school, I was right out the door to play. On Saturday morning after breakfast, I would head off on my bike - - and might end up in the woods building a fort, or down the street climbing the tremendous old apple tree (which was frequently a space ship for me... ), or playing soccer, or working on building and flying giant kites. My suburban neighborhood was expanding, and I particularly enjoyed climbing around the houses under construction, and sitting in the driver seat of the various pieces of big yellow construction equipment. I was outside until supper... and then outside again until near dark, when all of our parents would call us home.

Today I live in a suburban neighborhood, not very different from the one where I grew up. About two blocks from me there is a playground, and one side of the playground rises up into a wooded hill. We rarely see kids go by our house without a parent. In the morning, each corner has children waiting for the school bus .... each child accompanied by a parent, or watched by a parent in a nearby parked car. Only the high school kids walk down to the end of the neighborhood to catch their school bus.

I have noticed similar cautious behaviour in the ladies' room, where a mother and daughter will stay together, squeezing into one stall. For those moms, even standing directly outside the stall is apparently not safe enough, not close enough, not careful enough.

Over the past few years, there have been so many stories about abductions, rapes, murders of children. I don't know if there are *more* child-related crimes now, or if omnipresent media coverage has just made us all more aware. I do understand why the parents are worried. I also grieve the loss of freedom for our children, who are growing up in *such* a different world.