Barbara: My uncle sat recuperating in the front room of my first floor apartment. His sister, my mother, was sitting next to him. There were eight in the family. My mother was the oldest and Jim the youngest. In between them was the coffee table that had the pretzels and jelly beans on it. They are Turks. And Turks have an unusual way of remembering things. They write it all down in diaries, journals, index cards..... things like that. And they count things: tiles in a waiting room ceiling, people in the row ahead of them, and the amount of jelly beans and pretzels they eat every night.
As I approached the odd couple, a widow of 50 years and a widower of not quite a year to give them my night-time blessing the conversation began like this:
"Tell Jim how often you were at the hospital, he doesn't remember." I gasped, "you don't remember?" Holy smokes I was there all but one of the 8 days and he doesn't remember? Then Jim spoke. "Sometime could you tell me what happened in the hospital?" Another gasp, "you don't know what happened in the hospital?" He assured me that except for a few bits and pieces he had no memory of the stay.
Oh no no no no, this will never do. I'm not sure why I was so appalled at this. Part of it was I wanted him to know the death from which he narrowly escaped, but part of me also wanted credit for being like the "Jaws of Life" and rescuing him from this medical nightmare. I suggested we both write our memories of this experience—yes, I also am a "Turk."
Jim: I think this all started long ago but I shelved it as long as my wife needed me. Then last September 1998 as we were preparing for I.C. Church's Annual Event, strange things started happening.
If I walked any stairs, my breath would get labored, I had buzzing in my ears, and became dizzy. Throughout the day I would get like electrical jolts in my right temple, some strong enough to pull my eyelid closed.
As I was heading home to change for the evening I decided to stop at the emergency room of St. Joseph hospital. They kept me until Monday but could find nothing that would bring on these symptoms.
Barbara: He "decided to stop at the emergency room." That's my uncle all right! Jim never shows much on the outside and we in the family are never sure what exactly is going in inside of him. He is our good shepherd—almost everyone in the family can thank Jim for his kindness at one time or another. He was like a superhero who would suddenly appear at the scene of the disaster and save everyone involved.
When I was a senior year in high school I became seriously sick as a result of my period lasting over 21 days and almost doing me in. I still remember Jim carrying me down the front stairs and into a cab where I was taken to the Emergency Room of St. Joseph Hospital. That was only one of the many times he was there for me.
When he and Joan married after those few short months of "courting" we were surprised that the family bachelor would get hitched at 57; but very happy that Jim finally had that someone who would care about him as much as he cared about all of us.
His bride of only one year, however, discovered she had the most aggressive form of breast cancer and was given, at the most, 5 years to live. With Jim's loving attention and Joan's incredible spirit she lived every day of those five years. When she died it was a surprise to both Jim and Joan because she truly had not given up the fight but somehow I guess Life determined it was time and so she passed away with some of us at her bedside, in Room 925 of St. Joseph Hospital.
Jim: Between this time and February 1st I complained to my doctor that I could not sleep more than 1-1/2 to 3 hours per night, so finally she ordered a sleep study.
The night I arrived at Columbus hospital was chilly and by 10 P.M. I was ready for sleep. They wired the crown of my head, my eyelids, my lips, my arms, chest and ankles. They put a nasal mask on and told me to breath through my nose. They raised the head of the bed and said have a good night's sleep.
At 5:00 a.m. they woke me up, took all the leads off and said the doctor would notify me.
The sleep study showed that I had moderately severe sleep apnea, a condition found mostly in overweight people. My limb movements averaged 21 per hour, some violent.
They ordered a c-pak for me to sleep with. This machine forces air through your nose and into your lungs. Once I got used to this machine it was a blessing to sleep again for 5 to 7 hours.
On April 30 Dr. E came back and suggested I see a pulmonary specialist. On May 3rd I saw Dr. S and he ordered a C.T. Scan of the chest. (Because of referrals and scheduling, there was often a lot of lost time between the order and the test.)
On May 19th I went for the scan the doctor ordered. As they put me into the scanner they told me they would be injecting me with a dye.
No, No, I said, is this the same dye they use in the Angiogram? Yes, why? You can kill me with this dye, I quickly go into shock. It was then a scramble to find a doctor who could make the decision on what type of C.T. scan to take. I lucked out. I got out alive that day.
Once the pulmonary doctor saw the scan he ordered another x-ray because there was a definite spot that showed.
On June 9th I had an echocardiogram which showed an enlarged heart. On June 22nd I saw the cardiologist, Dr. C and he changed 2 of my pills, and gave permission for my lung Biopsy.
Barbara: Yes Jim had a very large and loving heart which now was broken. At first Joan's death was almost a relief because it became more and more evident that medical technology could not reverse her fate. While she wanted to live, she began to suffer more and more to accomplish that. All the care Jim gave her was now being replaced with hospital personnel and morphine, at first by shots administered every 4 hours, but eventually with a morphine drip which slowed her breathing to a soft snore that put her to sleep forever. The morning of her death she was very peaceful and with Jim by her side she breathed a deep sigh and then it was finished. Jim's partner, the angel he had waited all his life for, disappeared from his day to day existence.
He grieved, but he rejoiced, grieved, rejoiced. Then when the memory of all her suffering faded there was only the grief. He was again alone. Her 26 year-old daughter, Jennie, was the only thing that kept it from seeming like a dream. Jennie clung to Jim, and he looked after her.
But caring for Jennie could not distract him from his own symptoms of failing health. He found breathing, and then eating, a chore and often sacrificed both in order to make it through that day. Then one night he woke as he was falling out of bed. He hit the floor and was dazed, and I imagine from that moment on afraid to be alone. Whatever had caused this fall took place with no warning, and could happen again with perhaps more serious results than just a bump on the forehead and scraped knee. Jim was no doubt wondering what was to become of him in days to come. There were still a lot of things he needed to do, major things like selling their home on the south side of the city, far far away from his job at the IC rectory with an understanding boss/friend/priest; and also too far away from his family, and his stepdaughter who still needed him. He couldn't even consider the possibility of dying, and yet he was becoming too sick to continue living, at least alone. So he asked if he could spend the evenings and nights after work with us in our home. There are five of us here, all family, and we could watch over him until he knew what was happening.
Jim: On July 6th I saw Dr. B the surgeon who said this could be simple, 3 small incisions, or it could be major surgery, depending on what they found once I was opened. He wanted to have the heart checked out thoroughly before the lung surgery. He didn't want any surprises on the operating table. Neither did I!
On July 18, my primary doctor ordered a cardiolyte stress test but we could not get up to enough speed to get any heart test results.
On August 9th I went in for an angiogram, a rather simple test, except for me, because here again I am allergic to dye. A small incision is made in the artery in the groin area and a glass rod with a light and lens is inserted. This is worked all the way to the heart where they can see any blockages. All my arteries were clear except for the one that had been blocked twice before. It was decided to do an angioplasty with a "stent implant"
The "stent" is like a small metal wire sleeve that they expand with the plasty balloon. Each time they expand the balloon you have the start of a heart attack. They expanded 4 times, the pain was so bad they gave me .04 mg morphine twice. Then it was over. I can't remember much after that, I must have fallen asleep.
On August 13th I saw Dr. E and she said it was a go for the lung surgery but they wanted me to rest beforehand. I was now on constant oxygen during the day and the c-pack at night.
Barbara: Jim assured us this angioplasty would be routine and so went in alone and quite matter-of-factly. He left his car in the I.C. parking lot and was driven to the hospital by two parishioner/friends of his. He told all of us not to try and call him, that he would call us when the angioplasty was over and he was either in his hospital room, or ready to come home. So we all waited to hear from him. Jennie was going to go to the hospital in the afternoon and either bring Jim home, or if he was staying overnight bring us whatever personal items he had taken with him. She arrived here around 4:00 with Jim's briefcase and said that Jim's color looked pretty good. She didn't really know anything about what took place or his condition beyond how he looked. We assumed from the fact he was still in intensive care that he had more than an angioplasty, and that perhaps it had not gone well.
I decided to go into the hospital the next day and see what was happening since this was not the "plan" and we did not hear from him because there was no phone in his room. He had been moved from Intensive Care to the Telemetry unit (both on the 5th floor) where they monitor the patients with machines, but have less interactive nursing care. He shared a room with someone who was also being monitored. When I entered the room Jim was in bed and breathing with the help of plastic tubing that went around his ears and ended up in his nostrils. He said he was coughing up blood clots and performed that little trick for me a few times in the next hour. The cardiologist who came in to check his work of the previous day said he heart was pretty stabile and he could go home. Since the "home" he was coming into was mine I said "but he's coughing up blood and needs oxygen to breath!" The doctor ignored my urgent tone, dismissing it as the blood thinners he is taking, and said it would be all right. I wasn't sure how that might be possible (especially without that oxygen he seemed pretty desperate for) and so when any medical personnel came into the room I said "he can't go home now, like this, without oxygen, he'll die in the parking lot." That got me a lot of horrified looks, but no help.
His day-time nurse was wonderful and looked as puzzled and concerned as I was. Each time someone came in and told him he'd be going home I protested that he can't even walk without his oxygen so how can we take him home? Finally it was determined that he would be taken for a walk up and down the hall without the oxygen. The blood/oxygenation level considered borderline is 90. Beneath that number was considered a serious problem. With the oxygen tubing on he was barely able to hold the 90 number. So I walked alongside the nurse and Jim as they made they way down the hall. Before Jim even got out of bed the number had fallen to 75. About 10 steps into the hallway the meter (which they were wheeling next to him that attached to a clip on his index finger) was registering 54. The nurse turned him around and headed him back to bed where he could suck on some more life-giving air.
It was settled, he would be going home.
I stayed there until 7:00 p.m. when another doctor appeared in the room and asked if Jim had his c-pak machine (the one he used for sleeping) at home. He said no, it was at his house on the south side but he is coming to my house to recuperate. She asked if someone could get it for him so he would have it at my house. I verbally grabbed her by the neck and said his sleeping machine will do him no good if he's dies in my car on the way home because he can not exist without oxygen now for some reason. She kept nodding and saying "yes, I know that" but the concern was again, can you get his machine for him?
When it looked like we were going to come to blows she went out and made a phone call. Okay, now he would be staying overnight and we would get the machine for tomorrow, and yes, they would arrange to have a portable oxygen tank for him to take with him when he was out, and a stand-alone machine that looked like a cabinet for the house that would have a 50 foot plastic tube so he could get around in the house. Knowing he would have another night in the hospital using their air, I left and came home in shock over what almost took place.
That night Jennie picked up his breathing machine from the house and dropped it off at the rectory where Jim works. The next day Bob Fairman went to the hospital to pick up Jim, then they made a side trip to IC to get his c-pack sleep machine. Bob has an air conditioned station wagon so the trip home was fairly uneventful. Jim, however, was still white, gasping and shaking when he climbed the five stairs and sat down on a chair in the mom's kitchen. He spent the rest of the afternoon getting used to the portable oxygen caddy, and when the company delivered his cabinet unit, we set it up in the front room. I had rearranged my bedroom for him so he had outlets for his breathing machines and various other equipment.
He was very weak, but by the end of the first week he was able to get around much better and drive here and there. By the end of the second week he was ready to boogie. He had a Mass and Dinner to mark the one-year anniversary of Joan's death at St. Joseph's Hospital, the hospital Jim had just experienced himself.
The following Friday, August 27, he had a delayed 21st birthday party (really her 27th birthday) at a restaurant for Jennie and 19 of her friends. He went sans oxygen since so many of the people in attendance smoked and he didn't want to be the one "blowing out the candles." He looked pretty hale and hearty in spite of the lack of oxygen. Tuesday the 31st was the day of his lung biopsy,
Jim: On August 27th I went for a pre-op blood test, EKG and Xray. On August 30th I had to get a pulmonary function test, to test my breathing capabilities.
D-day, August 31st. I checked in at 9:00 a.m. Barbara was with me. We sat for about 45 minutes, then the nurse came for pre-op procedures.
Barbara: I drove Jim in to the hospital in what my son some time ago named The Deathmobile. It is a 1980 two-door Plymouth Volare that has been my dependable chariot for almost 20 years and saved my life when she was hit from the back at about 40 mph while she was parked. "She" was on another errand of mercy when stopped at a red light a woman behind me bumped into us. Since she was talking on her mobile phone at the time it would have been appropriate if Jim's oxygen had blown up and fixed her. On second thought........I'll let karma handle her. In the meantime I think Jim and I were both hoping this was not a sign of things to come.
Jim: I changed into a gown, booties and a stretch cap. They hooked me up to monitors and put an I V. drip into my right arm vein and an I V drip into my left arm artery. I laid like this for a while and then the anesthesiologist came in and started to drug me. Shortly, I was in la-la land.
Barbara: Not me!!!! I was painfully aware of all that was taking place. The surgery was scheduled for 11:00 a.m. but as if a sign of things to come the operating room was not available, and the tests Jim had done at a different hospital apparently had not been forwarded to St. Joseph's yet. Forms and more forms. Questions and more questions. The surgeon, Dr. B was in around 10:00 and seemed to indicate that this was no big deal, he said while they were getting a sample of the lung tissue for analysis (which was the main purpose of this little adventure in surgery-land he would snip off the little nodule on Jim's lung and biospy it to be sure. If it's malignant they would make a larger incision and remove it entirely. Still no big deal for anyone, including Jim apparently. When the tissue comes back from the lab in about 3 days the Pulmonary doctors (another team, another bill) would use that to adjust his medication, that's probably all it would take. His tone and manner was so nonchalant I thought, hey why not just snip a piece of Jim off with my fingernail clipper and be on our way..... until we hear from you. Kind of a don't call us, we'll call you thing.
After about 5 interruptions for more questions, forms, and procedures (white stockings for circulation later on?), the anesthesiologist came in and hooked up a host needle in his hand to begin the saline solution. She said the surgeon is still waiting for the operating room to empty. The surgeon, Dr. B had already read two entire newspapers and was getting impatient. No duh! At least he could be thinking about the money he was about to make to soothe him.
Jim and I talked probably more in those 3 hours than we had in our lifetime. I mean where was he going to go to escape my questions dressed in that gown and white stockings? Finally at 12:30 the surgeon came in and said they're ready. Judy, the surgical nurse came and wheeled him away. I went to wait in the patient's family's lounge where they had four round tables, a ton of chairs all hooked together, a TV and free coffee. I called Jennie, then Mom to tell them he just now went up to surgery and not to worry about the time, I'd let them know when I found out something. The surgeon had given me the impression it would be little over an hour because he wasn't expecting complications. Fine. I got myself a cup of coffee and started to read.
After an hour I heard "The family of James Turk??" and waited to hear the usual next line..... "you can go see (name) in the recovery room..... just go out that door, walk to the end of the hall and turn left." Mine was a different instruction. "Please go to the intake desk, the surgical nurse would like to speak with you." Oh no, I tried to imagine what I was going to hear, and then have to pass on to the family that was praying so hard for him at home by their phones.
Dr. B wanted you to know that Mr. Turk will be needing the more serious surgery and so it will be a while yet before he's done. She was about to hang up when I tried to stammer out a question of any kind just to hold her there. I knew she was standing there with Jim on the table probably next to her and I wanted to know exactly what went wrong. This was suppose to be a simple surgery for the purpose of research, or at least that is the impression I got. What went wrong in that short hour or so? I asked that question or something like it and she said "the doctor will have to discuss this with you." No, I need more information, I can't call people and tell them something serious is happening but I don't know what. So I asked another question: "so the small incision will now be a larger one?" Yes, that's right she said. But nothing more. And I needed something more to justify all the time being spent with Jim in that room.
I didn't know how to ask the next question so I just said a bunch of words hoping one of them would get me something to clear up the confusion I felt. I recounted what I was told two hours ago in that pre-op room: "I was told that there would be two small incisions in his side and that you would biopsy the little piece of the growth on his lung. Does this mean that the biopsy is back and it's malignant so you are going to do major surgery now?" She paused and replied very cautiously but compassionately: "you can assume that." Okay, at least I knew something, even if it was horrifying because of it's sudden seriousness.
I called Jennie, then Mom, then Millie. I needed to share the awful news with someone since Jim had no idea he may be celebrating Joan's anniversary in a very intimate way. But to each of the people called I told a variation of the story based on what I thought they could handle given that they were so far away from his bedside. Then I waited, and waited, and waited.
At 4:30 Dr. B opened the door of the surgical waiting room lounge and recognized me. He indicated for me to come with him. Everyone else was addressed in the room. Why was I being escorted into a private room to hear the news? Oh no, there is this huge family out there, people who care about Jim, people who Jim has helped time and time again. And now there was just me here about to find out ...... what?
He's in recovery now. (Phew, he's still alive!!!!! )
We removed the tumor. It was malignant but very very small. He is fortunate because a malignancy in the lungs is not usually detected until it's large enough to be seen on an xray so unless it's discovered by accident (like Jim's was) it's almost too late. So we removed it but did not remove the entire lobe because his lungs were so weakened to begin with. And this is the problem. The surgery will be difficult on him. That is our only concern right now—that he recover from the surgery because his lungs were very weak and a surgery of any kind is a concern because of the possibility of developing pneumonia. We still don't know what the problem with his breathing is but when the tissue samples come back from the lab the Pulmonary Doctors will be able to determine how to adjust his medication.
I said, so this is the end of the surgery for him? "Yes. There may be a few more tests but no more surgery."
Phew, I knew Jim would make it because I saw my uncle be at death's door twice before and very methodically bring himself back to health. So now if he can just survive the next few days, he will be out of the woods.
The doctor said it would be a couple of hours before I could see him in Intensive Care, so I made my calls to keep everyone informed, and then went down to the cafeteria to eat the cereal I had brought with me at 8:30 this morning.
Jim: I think it was Friday when I came to, hooked to many machines. There were things crawling all over the walls and webs falling off the ceiling and walls toward me. Everything in the room had a sticky sensation and a very bad taste, even the water. There were many songs playing all at once, fading in and out. I had no sensation of time, day, or date.
I stared often, trying to get my eyes and brain adjusted, the room was jammed full of equipment. Barbara came everyday but I couldn't tell if it was am, noon, P.M.. I wanted to know where Jennie was. I had forgotten that she was on vacation in Arizona (with my blessings)
I remember Barbara filling out my menus.
Barbara: Tuesday at 5:45 I saw Jim in his room on the 5th floor, Intensive Care Unit, room 520, the last room on the floor. When I walked in he looked like he was wired for an electrocution. There were tubes and hook-ups of every kind. Three meters and a video monitor were informing someone, somewhere of his state of being. Oxygen again flowed from the wall but this time into a mask he wore over his nose and chin. Bags hanging from his bedside collected all his bodily fluids, including blood which was draining from inch diameter hoses coming from his side. I approached his bed and asked if I could see the incision. He nodded okay and I lifted the gown on the side to see bandages, lots of bandages, and these two yellow hoses. There was a squiggly circle drawn on the bandages with a black marker. I assumed under all this was the incision.
Jim could hardly breathe and was pale and sweating. The monitor was registering his heartbeat, pulse, and blood oxygenation which was in the 50s somewhere. I looked through the little passageway between his room and the next and saw an old man with the same set up as Jim had. The numbers on his monitor seemed the same as Jim's, except for the oxygenation. The guy looked dead to me, and Jim looked like he was on the way to joining him. I stayed for about an hour and then decided to leave because Jim could not speak without gasping, and had nothing to say anyway since he was so drugged up. They told him he had morphine which he could administer to himself by pushing a little button on this gizmo hooked to his gown. And they wanted him to give himself a dose and then try to cough to make sure his lungs wouldn't fill with fluid. The morphine was to eliminate the pain when he'd cough. But Jim had no intention of coughing.
They brought in a tray of food but he wasn't hungry, and just as well because he couldn't have managed the spoon with all the needles and tubes and hoses, plus the clip on his finger registering the oxygenation level. And if he would happen to be able to get food to his mouth, his mouth was inside this mask, and without the mask he wasn't able to breath, talk, or survive. Wow, this guy is f-ed! I thought to myself.
I told Jim the results of the surgery in case he was worried (since I had no idea there was this 3-ring circus going on in his brain from the drugs and surgery). Then I told him I was going home so he could rest since he couldn't do much of anything else at the moment. I called Jennie, Mom, and Millie and informed them of his condition and said I was going home now.
The ICU desk wanted to know who would be the designated caller for Mr. Turk because they will only give out medical information to one person now, new rules to avoid misinformation/misunderstandings reaching the immediate family. I left my name and went home in shock wondering if Jim would make it through the night.
I got home and sent an e-mail message to the kids and some others in the family saying that "Uncle Jim was alive but probably wishes he weren't. If I understand the doctor correctly, his only life and death struggle is to survive the surgery. If he does, then some pulmonary doctor will "adjust" his medications to help him breath but I bet he will always need the oxygen tanks."
I fell into bed probably as unconscious as Jim, but in a helluva lot less pain, and breathing on my own.
Jim had parked his car in front of the house and Wednesday was street cleaning so I started my day trying to move his car from one side of the street to the other........without power brakes since his van is one that was in recall for that little flaw. Okay, after a lot of nervous sweating at least his car was safe. Now to see about Jim
I told Jennie I'd meet her in the waiting room on the 5th floor at 11:00 (beginning of visiting hours) on Wednesday. Jennie and Rick were going on a 11-day vacation to Arizona which had been scheduled a month ago before Jim knew about this surgery. She hated to be gone and wanted to see Jim before she left to make sure he would be okay. I tried to prepare her for what she was about to see. The nurse asked that we wait a while because they had a "open heart" coming up (whatever that meant). We chatted in the lounge for a while and then went into the room. She kissed him, and told him bits and pieces about her upcoming vacation, and said she would call daily to find out how he was doing. We then went back to the lounge since Jim could not converse with the mask and lack of oxygen.
We chatted for a while and then visited Jim again for a few minutes. One more trip to the lounge, one more trip to Jim's room and Jennie left. We enjoyed our conversation, but the time with Jim was very stressful for all of us I think. She said she'd e-mail me all the information how to reach her in Arizona and then left. I stayed for another hour or so, filled in Jim's menu for the next day, told Jim I'd be in later tomorrow because the guy was coming to clean the furnace between nine and noon. I told him he was on his own and would have to save his own life until tomorrow. I still had no idea how impossible this would have been for him because he still did not tell me about the music and the sounds, and sensations going on in his head.
Thursday : (from an e-mail to the kids, etc.)
The furnace guy finished up at 3:00 and I went to the hospital then. Jim said they almost killed him this morning. He said he thinks they gave him the wrong medication and he went into shock. He said he got so hot he thought he was going to catch on fire, then his legs started convulsing. Lots of people came into the room and they were all shouting back and forth at one another. That was the morning. Then after that someone came in and stuck long needles in his back but after several "sticks" they said it didn't work. Jim said he thought he'd go crazy from all the pain.
Okay, now I ask the nurse what happened this morning. She said he just gets nervous. Hmmmm I think I might get nervous also. I pushed a little more and got nothing. I asked about the needles in his back and she said they tried giving him a pain-killer directly into his lungs but he's so heavy it wouldn't work. Now don't they have eyes and might have realized that to begin with? So I asked to talk to the doctor. She paged him and I talked to him over the phone.
So I asked the doctor how Jim was doing, then mentioned the experience he had in the morning and asked him about the medication. Well, he might have had a reaction to a medication. F-in' A he did! (I didn't say that part). Then I asked him about the needles and he also said that was to inject a pain killer directly into his lungs so he would be able to cough more and bring up what was in his lungs.
While I was there with Jim a nurse came in (the one who said he just gets nervous) and readjusted his tubing. When she left I saw the meter going down from 88 (which is where it normally was (not normal but normal for Jim now)) down down down and when it reached 54 I said to Jim are you getting any oxygen? I followed the tubing from his mask to...... an empty bottle on the bed and nothing going to the wall where the oxygen was coming from. He was gasping and said the mask is hot. I quick got the nurse back and she said it's not connected. I asked Jim where his "call" button is. It's part of the mechanical stuff that runs the bed and the TV.... and it was on the floor. In a few minutes Jim would have probably passed out because he could not have had the energy to look for the call button, and even if he did locate it he would never have been able to reach it. And those machines that relay information into the nurses station? Why no one saw his levels dropping to 54..... I guess they were out to dinner. Good luck Jim!
After 4 hours of being in that chair he was tired of sitting so I went into the hall and told his nurse he wanted to be moved back into bed. She came in and asked me to please step out while she did whatever she had to do. When I returned to the room she was scurrying around putting probes on his chest and hooking still more wires into the monitor/machine next to his bed. I wondered what happened in that short few minutes but she didn't know. She finished whatever she was doing and left saying she was going to call the cardiologist. Now I was alone with Jim in the room. The monitor reading for his heart was going crazy. It went from 110 to 39 and then back up and at one point reached 0 and set off an alarm. The nurse came in, checked the monitor, fiddled with the ranges on the screen, gave him a shot, again mentioned calling the cardiologist (who never came) and left him with me.
His feet were making wide circles in opposite directions. When that stopped his legs were vibrating. I watched this for a while, alternately with checking the readings on the monitor and though maybe this guy is having some sort of convulsive fit. So I stepped to his bed and said "Jim do you feel anything in your legs?" He opened his eyes slightly and said "like what?" I said "your legs are going spastic and your feet keep making circles." He said "you mean like this?" and repeated the actions I just described. "Yah, just like that." He said "I'm doing that" and then did it again so I could see. I breathed a sign of relief and he said "I'm gonna give you a nervous breakdown before this is over."
Of all the things I heard from the people in this hospital, that is probably the only true one. It was getting late and I needed to get home to work on a job so I had to leave but before I did I told Jim that he's on his own now and will have to protect himself. I told him to make sure he doesn't just accept what they say or try to give him. I told him it was his job to stay alive until tomorrow when I see him at 11:00 again.
Friday : Friday morning when I came in, Jim was again sitting in his chair with his oxygen mask on staring out the window. He barely greeted me and seemed very down in the dumps. After sitting across from him for a while I asked him how he's doing today. He said "I'm so confused. What time did you leave yesterday?" I told him and he asked me a few more questions about day and time and a few other things that seemed odd to me. A minute or two passed and he looked even more despondent. "What's wrong Jim, is something the matter?" What he said next broke my heart. He said he was worried that he's going to get someone fired because he is confused and told someone this morning that they were trying to kill him.
Wow did I explode on that one. TRYING to kill you? They damn near did yesterday with the wrong medication and then the pain-shots to your lungs, and turning off your oxygen mask and doing who knows what that set your heart off, and then giving you a shot to calm you down that made you even more confused and jittery. Get someONE fired, they ALL should be fired.
Friday: (from an e-mail to the kids, etc.)
Uncle Jim's day in ICU was just as eventful as ever. He had gotten another one of his treatments (which I had witnessed the day before also). They would attach a bottle with two eyedroppers full of medicine onto his oxygen mask and I would see clouds of steam or vapor coming from the two holes in his mask. This was some kind of medicine that was suppose to lubricate and open his lungs so he could cough up some of the junk in their. This treatment however was not billowing out anything, in fact I didn't even see the normal flow of oxygen making the moisture droplets on the mask. I asked Jim if he was getting anything? He looked at me and said, YES!
Then the girl who hooked it up came in and I told her he's not getting anything in his mask and Jim said YES I AM. He had found his voice finally and used it to chastise me for implying that this bubbleheaded girl had f-ed something up. The bottle with the medicine had been steaming like crazy until she hooked it to the mask, then nothing. I merely commented on that and Jim, The Quintessential Turk of Turks insisted that he WAS getting the medicine and I couldn't see it because it was going into his lungs where it was suppose to be. Nah, I wasn't buying that but decided to let it go because I didn't want to be killed by a half-dead man who I'm suppose to be taking care of here.
When she returned and removed the medicine bottle from his dry mask it again began to billow out the vapor into the room. So now we were all going to get the treatment meant for Jim. By this time I was tired of being told I was nuts so I said, I think that is the medicine he was suppose to get. She said sheepishly that there was indeed a pinch left (and only a pinch and a half was the prescribed amount to begin with) and "Do you want this last little bit Mr. Turk? Some people say good to the very last drop." But Jim was sure that he had had enough. I know I did! And so refused the last drop (which would have constituted the entire dosage but hey, it's not my lungs). And besides I already got more of the treatment than he did.
I was going to leave at 3:30 but stayed until 4:00 and then called Fairmans and said someone needs to be here because he's scared and also he can't be left alone with what's going on. I said I hate to leave but I must. And then did. I didn't call Mom with this information because I was sure she'd start calling everyone on her list and insisting they go to the hospital. I figured if I called Millie she would share in the concern for Jim being left alone, and I wouldn't feel like I had walked out on my responsibility because now there'd be two of us who hated the medical profession (Mille and I) and knew that Jim was in deep shit! But since Millie and I don't dabble in doctor visits we'd be able to console each other if something awful did happen. And the awful thing that did happen was Millie and Bob met me on my way into the house (which was on their way to the hospital). I now felt awful about them driving in the heat in rush hour to be with Jim while he gasped for air and starved to death. But I was thinking that by this time Jim needed to see someone besides me at his bedside since I was beginning to annoy him with my constant litany on all the hospital is doing wrong.
This also included the guy in the next room from Jim, and also the doctor who was the patient across the hall from Jim. Both these cases were interesting and I kept an eye on them also. The guy in the next room was probably dead I figured since his eyes never moved and now more and more equipment was being brought into his room. His readings were still the same as Jim's as far as heartbeat (when Jim wasn't fibrillating or dying) and pulse, and temperature. His oxygenating levels were much better however. But maybe a dead guy breaths better than Jim was. These kinds of observations were probably a good reason for Fairman's to pick up the pace with him. Millie came home and said Jim was in pretty good spirits and ate a little dinner. She said she tried to help him with his food since his arms and hands are all taped up with needles and probes and tubing. He couldn't hardly reach his food without knocking something over. And since I filled out his menus with him I asked what was he eating that night. She said he had broiled whitefish that she squeezed the lemon (on his saucer) over. She was very pleased with herself until she realized that was the lemon Jim was very insistent and specific with me about......for my tea! Hahaha. Poor Jim, good thing he didn't really want any of it.
When I left that day I felt awful until I got to the parking lot and noticed the sign that said they are paving the lot at 5 and so all cars will be towed! Yikes, good thing I didn't listen to my heart. I'd have been searching for my Deathmobile somewhere. So when I saw that sign I felt much much better about Jim dying. At least my car was still where I left it.
When I got home mom subtly (and you know how subtle Mom can be) hinted, asked, begged, me to move Jim's car back to in front of the house just so she could feel better. I told her that I had no intention of moving that car again until I had a runway to move it into because I was not strong enough to stop that van without power brakes.
Saturday (again from my e-mail message to the kids, etc.) I took Mom into the hospital for a quick visit since Mike was going to be tutoring for a couple hours.
Well today Uncle Jim is sitting on a chair that really is too small for him, trying not to fall forward into his mashed potatoes. I tried not to laugh at the slapstick possibilities of what was taking place before me.
Periodically he pushes the button on a morphine self-injecting machine and then goes bye bye for a while. So why push the button when they just brought you your lunch one might ask, but I didn't.
In between these humorous highlights he is making those kinds of statements only a Turk in splendor can make..... right out of his ass and defending them as if they came from the Torah. The doctor came in and asked if he had any pain and he shakes his head and says "no, no pain." WHAT?! Then what is the morphine there for, to help him swallow his mashed potatoes? Holy smokes I almost flipped when I heard that. The next question was to find how if he was coughing. Jim said "yes, he's coughing up blood clots." WHAT?!!!!!! NO, NO, NO, Jim, that was last time you were in the hospital. This time you can't cough up anything and that's why you're still in Intensive Care and not in a regular patient's room. Oh wow, I wanted to chase that doctor down and tell him not to believe anything that Jim Turk says. Not only is he a Turk, but now he's a Turk under the effects of Morphine! A deadly combo.
I kept my mouth shut on both these answers because occasionally (now that he has a tad bit more energy) he tries to slam me with one of his remarks intended to insult my intelligence. But since he sometimes sounds like his recording of Alex the Christmas Mouse that pretty much defuses what he said, or thought he said. I don't know if it's the oxygen changing the tone of his voice or the panic he is feeling seeing me sitting at bedside barking out orders to the staff. Hey, this room is probably costing a few thousand a day so why not put on a good show for the crowd.
When his cardiologist (from the last surgery) came in just to say hello, and brag about his work ("Your heart held up very nicely for the surgery") I corrected him by saying "He had fibrillation yesterday and the meter went down to "0".... I thought they paged you?') He was all flustered and said, no, that he wasn't really on his case this time but he'd look at the chart at the desk. When he walked out Jim looked at me disgusted and said "keep it up and I'll never get out of here!" I thought to myself I will keep it up because if you're going to die somewhere it's going to be in this hospital and not in my car or frontroom! The air in the room was getting heavy!!!!!
About an hour into our visit I said "Jim, I just watched you take a piss" and then laughed very heartily and loud for an entire minute. Yes, the catheter that runs from him into this bag hanging off his bed rail lets us all see when he is urinating and how much, how fast, what color, and if we were medically savvy what condition he is in. He, by the way, just rolled his eyes but did not laugh. I don't know if his eyes rolling were in exasperation or impending death.
Speaking of that I checked on the guy next door and now he had turned a lovely shade of yellow. But the monitors and meters were telling the staff (at the front desk filling out paperwork) that he was alive and well and living on the shore of beautiful Lake Michigan.
The old man across the hall is a doctor who makes a very nasty patient. He is always barking and yelling and thrashing about in his bed so his naked parts are exposed to all the female nurses and aides. They go in and cover him up and he begins again to thrash around. The nurse on duty today tried to get him to stay covered, in bed, and not tugging at his IV tubing. She even put a tent across his legs to keep him covered. When all that failed she went in there with two syringes and in 10 minutes the nasty old goat was sleeping nice and quiet. Then she covered him up again and there he will stay until probably Tuesday.
Sunday we saw Joyce at breakfast and she said she would visit Jim today. That was the best thing that could have happened because I told her about Jim being so concerned about the fact he can't orient himself. On Saturday when I went in Jim was very depressed and looked even worse than he had been under the effects of the drugs. I asked him if he was worried and he said "yes." I then asked what he was worried about and he said "I'm worried about everything." Oh my God, a Turk actually admitting to being worried about something. That was a miracle in itself.
I then asked him specific questions and he answered honestly, as much as his oxygen mask would allow. The last admission was that he didn't know if he would be able to function anymore because everything was different..... the furniture, trays, everything felt so sticky, and there was this awful smell everywhere, and the food tastes like bandages, and he can hear sounds from down the hall as if they were being magnified. He said he finally identified a sound that was driving him nuts as being the stopper drop in the toilet across the hall. I didn't tell him there were no toilets in ICU because I figured he had enough problems with his mind, and my candid commentary on his experience.
He said he was trying very hard to concentrate on what was reality and what was the little show going on in his room. He asked if there was a clock behind him on the wall. Yes there is. Next question: is there a TV back there? No, this is the only TV in the room (and on it he was watching the Jerry Lewis Telethon as they were showing the pictures of all the people who had died of Muscular Dystrophy. I suggested he change the channel. The guy next door, by the way, was now looking out the window. Yes, his eyes were wide open and his color a serious yellow. A machine was recycling his blood (and that was probably the sound Jim was hearing coming from the dialysis machine next door. And his monitor read the same numbers they did all along. I'd say the guy was holding his own quite well, being dead for about 3 days now.
The drugged doctor across the hall was still sleeping quite soundly, even if Jim did insist vehemently that he had gone home last night. Okay Jim, then they must have cloned him (and the picture of his wife) because there's the same man in that room as I saw two days ago, and yesterday. Anyway, upon telling Joyce about all these little tidbits from Jim's conversations she went in and was able to reassure him that while he is definitely NOT okay, he is still strangely very okay.
She kicked it off by asking him if he's enjoying listening to his favorite songs or can she interrupt with some conversation. He was confused (a way of life for him since Tuesday) but then greatly relieved when Joyce was able to verbalize what Jim had been experiencing with great fear for his future well-being and sanity.
Joyce stopped at our house before returning home and filled us in on Jim's progress.
Monday (from an e-mail message to the kids, etc.)
Phew, the worst is over! Jim is in his own room, and out of Intensive Care. That means he has a phone and therefore is reconnected to the outside world.
Mike and I went in today from 10:30 until 2:00 and he was pretty down in the dumps (meaning worried).
I asked him if he's worried. Yes he said. What are you worried about.... and he said "I'm worried about everything." Hey, I think for the first time in his life he was honest. So then I tried to narrow it down to do some problem solving.
After a while, thanks to Mike (who could share his post operative symptoms) I think he felt somewhat better about all the music he hears in his head, and the streaks of light he sees. I suspect the drugs, especially the morphine has been messing with his mind. That along with the fact he's not getting enough oxygen to really allow his brain to think properly and therefore leaving him confused.
You can see his mind trying to put things together. He called Mom tonight around 5:00 and then Mom called others and gave them his phone number. The more he gets connected to the outside world and the people he interacts with in that world (like Fr. Pat) the more he will feel like he still has a life he can manage.
This is actually back to back serious/major surgeries within 2 weeks time for him. That is more than a healthy, thin, person with good lungs could take. So I suspect he's out of the woods..... and I can go back to a normal life for myself. Tomorrow if the street in front of the house is empty I will move Jim's car.
Fairmans were gone for the Labor day weekend but when they left on Saturday said they would again visit Jim during the week, and also that Bob would bring Jim home in his air conditioned station wagon. Phew that sounded real good to me.
JIM: The surgeon came in to remove the tubes and gently removed the bandage that was holding them in. Some of the skin came along with it. He told me he was going to count to 3 and pull the tubes and I should hold my breath until they put another bandage on.
(Guess they don't want the lung to blow out these holes.) I sure was surprised at the size of those tubes. But they really came out quickly. (The tube holes are taking longer to close than the incision.) They look like alien eyes on my side.
BARBARA: Mom had phoned Bill & Lydia and told them of Jim's condition. They said they would go in to visit Jim on Tuesday. I figured that would give Jim some good company for the day and figured I would stay home. Then I decided to just go to the hospital for an hour and see if I could connect with the doctors to get an estimated time of arrival, and see what his condition was like (maybe the lab work was back and we would know what was wrong with his lungs.
He was in room 1006 now and when I walked in all bubbly about the progress he had made, and also the fact that I was not his pipeline to the world (which probably pleased him as much as it did me) he said "I'm going home."
WHAT?!!!!! I acted very pleased and happy. Inside I was scrambling for logic in this. Last night he was in Intensive Care sucking oxygen from a mask and hooked up to all sorts of machinery. He said the doctor came in on Monday and removed the tubes and the bandage from his incision. I asked to see it. He directed me not to his left side but to his back. Hey, I thought the incision was suppose to be on his side. I looked behind him and saw a circular incision that would have made his right arm fall off if it were just a few inches longer. Holy Christ! And it was studded with staples every quarter of an inch. I guess that is what kept it in place.
His side had two deep juicy gouges with a silly piece of transparent 1/2 inch tape holding them closed. Yah right! Holy smokes now I was gasping for air. When the nurse came in I said, more like croaked "He said he's going home today?" Yes, he is.
Oh no! I had visions of trying to get him into the Deathmobile with no air conditioning and no pillow for me to sit on so I could reach the brake and gas. I never thought for a second that he'd be coming home but Jim told the doctor he wanted out. So now my hour-long visit would be until they got him ready to leave.
It turned out that he needed two pints of blood before he left—probably to get him out of the hospital alive! And his portable oxygen unit which was still at home. He no longer had his mask on, but was wearing that plastic straw tubing that wrapped around his ears. He also had not been out of his bed for more than a short trip down the hall and back with the help of the physical therapist. It appeared that in less than 10 hours time all the tubes, his catheter, the IV tubing, his oxygen mask, the bandage on his incision, all of this was gone and it was the same Jim I brought in a week ago...... only near death. And he was going home with me.
I decided to call Mike at work and suggest he and I return after work (4:30) with the portable oxygen unit and Mike's company car which was a four door and air conditioned for the trip home in the rush hour traffic. Oh god!
Tuesday e-mail message to the kids, etc.
What a surprise I had this morning. Bill and Lydia were going to visit with Jim in the afternoon so I was going to just pop in at 11:00 and see what his doctors were saying and then have a wonderful rest of the day.
When I walked in Jim said "I'm going home today!" I felt myself get all hot and then cold and start to compute what that really meant since he was just in intensive care a few hours ago wearing that mask giving him little morphine breaks. The first shock I had was realizing I brought him here in the Deathmobile but I had the seat all the way back to give him room for his oxygen tank and his legs.... and I was sitting on two pillows to be able to reach the brake and gas. How was I going to be able to drive home without my pillows. I stammered something about that being "great" and how he'd stand a better chance of recuperating at home, but I wasn't sure how I'd get him there. The pillows, the pillows, I needed those pillows. So I scanned the room planning my next move of swiping the pillow off of his bed, and maybe one from another room. Then he mentioned needing his oxygen tank from home. Okay, I'm going to be going home anyway. That solved that.
I stayed there for a couple hours, had Mom call Bill and Lydia and tell them not to come. And found out how long it would be for Jim to finish his 2 pints of blood they wanted him to have.
All in all it would be so late (and the nurse didn't think he should ride in my car that doesn't have air conditioning, and also I had to go back home to get his portable oxygen tank......so now when Mike comes home at 4:30 we will pack the tank and head back to St. Joes in the rush hour to bring him home (and then get prescriptions filled, etc.)
When I went to the hospital this morning they had removed his bandage and the scar is a very long and curved around his right "wing"..... it's from just below his neck to under his right arm and it's held together with a staple every 1/4 inch or less. Wow, that looks very nasty. What I thought was an incision was actually two deep gouges in his side (like alien eyes) and that's where the two hoses were coming from. They look deeper and more sore than the incision
And Jim is still out of it as far as the five senses go. It's like he was on acid because all his senses are heightened and he smells, tastes, hears, sees, and feels things at an exaggerated mode. He said everything feels sticky, and he hears things in the hall in magnification. It's going to be a long while. And it's 3 weeks before he can drive. I can't wait for this to be over and for Mike and I to be eating our nice dinner and then for me to have my drinks and go to sleep listening to the radio. I can't take much more of this because I, too, am a Turk and so I have been putting up a very good front but have been feeling incredible stress over what could happen to Jim because of the situation at the hospital.
By the way Jim said the guy in the next room in ICU died last night. He heard a lot of loud and angry voices yelling for a number 257 forceps, then someone pulled a huge blood clot from the guys throat, and then there were screams, and then that was all. I doubt that he died last night since he looked that way all along. And I also think there's the possibility that he starved to death since I saw them bring in his food tray (the same way they did for Jim) and leave it on his cart with the lids on. All that money wasted on health care and for what. Since he didn't have anyone there with him who knows what he really died of. But I'd say neglect might be a good first diagnosis.
Wednesday e-mail message to the kids, etc.
Milk of Magnesia, a digital thermometer, a box of alcohol swabs, and 6 prescriptions filled at Walgreens. That was today. Oh yes, and I had to switch him from my old room into the girls room because the night was awful for him. The bed was way too low and with him barely having the strength to walk or breath, it was a horrible first night home.
Then I went out for two hours and walked up and down the aisles of Jewels and Dominicks..... just needing to get away from the tension.
Jim is doing quite well. He is 500% better than he was yesterday afternoon at 5:00 in that hospital. I could not believe what took place there. He was in intensive care, then 10 hours later he was in a regular patient room. Apparently overnight a miracle took place because at 9:00 in the morning he was released. From intensive care to home. Incredible. And when we came to get him Mike stayed down in the car because we thought all we had to do was give him his portable oxygen tank to breath with.
He was in his gown, in the chair, looking like hell when they brought his dinner in. I had taken a container to bring it home so I did the "take home" thing. They had just given him a shot to take the water out of his system (and he feared he'd pee in Mike's new car). Then they brought in a ton of pills and said he can take them in the car but if he doesn't have food he'll get sick to his stomach. I said he doesn't have food, his food is in this container because he wants to come home not sit here eating. She then gathered up saltines, graham crackers, a half pint of milk, and two little cups of juice and said he can eat this in the car. Then she handed me a urinal bottle and said he can use this if he has to go on the way home.
His clothes were in a plastic bag. I put them on the bed and waited. Then we realized they were not going to help him, at least not until nightfall. So Jim tried to get himself dressed (after spending the past 7 days either in a bed or in a chair sucking on oxygen).
He took his gown off and held it in front of him but his hands were shaking so hard it was more like he was dusting himself off. He then hung on and tried to put his jockey shorts on. He got both feet in and had them up to his knees when I thought he was going to pass out from the strain. I told him to sit down.
I put his undershirt and dress shirt on. Then I put his feet through his slack legs and put his feet into his shoes. I told him to stay there until a nurse could lift him from the chair and pull up his shorts and slacks.
When she finally came back she helped him stand and they tried to pull his short and slacks up. Then he tried to zip his pants with hands that were shaking so hard I thought he was being electrocuted.
He tried to close the pants and hook the belt and neither one would meet in the middle. He said these were loose on me when I came in. No way. But he has been totally confused from the beginning with the drugs and morphine.
We then took him off the hospital oxygen and put him on his little portable unit, and into a wheel chair. By this time his entire body was shaking and he was pale and sweating.
Now we will put this big guy into a medium size car and drive him home through stop and start traffic during rush hour. He was breathing like a bull in heat and asked for some of the crackers as soon as we got in the car.
We got him home and Mike helped him from the car into the kitchen. Then he helped him get out of the clothes I struggled to get him into just an hour before.
He had a very restless night so today we switched rooms. He called for his prescriptions and was told he didn't need to be on the oxygen all the time so he took it off while he watched TV and just walked around the house. The last I looked he was doing incredibly well and looking forward to supper.
I think a hospital is only good for cutting things off of you that you can't reach yourself. After that, you are better off in your own home where you are safe from these ignorant people who do more paperwork and socializing than they do taking care of patients. And that old guy in the room adjoining Jim's died right after Mike and I left on Monday. I think he was dead when we were there and said so. I guess the hospital finally realized it when a few of his meal trays were not even opened. Or maybe he starved to death because no one took the lids off and fed him. Could be. Could be.
Late Tuesday night Jim was sitting in the front room in the rocking chair. He was no longer shaking or gasping and looked "in the pink" for the first time in a week. I went over to him and said 40 years ago you carried me in your arms to a waiting cab that took me to the emergency room at St. Joseph Hospital. You saved my life.
I gave him a high-five and said this past week I returned the favor.
He smiled and said "you're right."
It's good to be alive and a Turk. Sometimes those two things happening simultaneously are almost impossible.
JIM: I have read Barbara's comments and guess some of this actually happened as she says.
As far as the music went, even after I came home, every time anything made sound, i.e. the refrigerator going on, it played music. There was music and voices everywhere. I could hear Barbara in the hallway in the middle of the night talking to someone.
It took 3 to 4 days at home before things started to quiet down. The music and voices finally subsided but the god-awful taste remained for almost a week.
When I first arrived home, Viv made me a cup of coffee in a mug and to my great surprise I couldn't pick it up. I never realized I was that weak.
My body was so full of fluid, (thus not being able to get into my clothes) I felt like a water balloon. Slowly, thanks to the water pills, it started to disappear. I had lost 20 lbs in the hospital.
On September 15, Jennie took me to have the staples removed. The doctor asked her to come in with me. He looked at everything and said it was looking good and left. His nurse came in to take out the staples. I really did not feel very much and Jennie thought the removal was neat.
The day after I came home I went off the oxygen and have been off since.
Thanks to my 3 caregivers, Jennie, Barbara and Vivian I have been well taken care of and recovery is going great.
BARBARA: Only an observation, but I have a feeling the voices, and conversations Jim was hearing were things he "heard" while he was in the hospital and under the effects of those powerful drugs, specifically the morphine. Because his brain could not process what was going on, it just stored it and subsequently he was being re-visited by those bits and pieces he heard, only this time his brain was able to work more coherently with them..... because there is no way I was in that hallway in the middle of the night having a conversation with anyone!!!!! Or it could have been him hearing me talking during the day and him not oriented yet as far as what time is really was since he had no routine to match it up to. Hey these observations just might be more right than anything those doctors tell you, and they cost nothing.
JIM: Today, Wednesday the 29th, I saw both my primary and surgical doctors. The surgeon was surprised that I was doing so good and is allowing me to go back to work on Saturday. Yea!!!!!
The primary doctor, Dr. E sat me down to talk about the Biopsy. Her first words were, "Have you ever lived near a coal mining area?" "No" I replied to which she informed me that my lungs resemble Black Lung Disease. I guess my heavy smoking days, followed with dirty air, topped with photographic chemicals all those years that I sucked them in could possibly have affected my lungs. She agreed.
The tumor in the lung was malignant but still very tiny. They did not want to remove any bottom lung tissue so they took out as much of the tumor that they could. They believe they got it all but I will have to be going through x-rays, CTScans and blood tests in the future—joy, joy, just like my poor Joan.
My oxygen level is back up to 93, a decent reading for me.
Will I be getting any more medication—you better believe it—I'm seeing the pulmonary doctor on next Monday.
Over all, I am healing faster than normal, but will have to be checked every 3 months as in the past.
BARBARA: As he gets stronger, Jim is trying to close out part of his life and prepare for the rest. He spends half the week at the house he and Joan lived in for about 3 years, trying to determine what needs to be done. He can no longer be making the long drives back and forth, especially since his car is no longer that trustworthy and winter is fast approaching.
When he's not at Avenue L on the south side, he is at I.C. where he now has a "day" room ready to move his things into. He will eventually spend his days at I.C. where he is the overseer of the grounds, and the evening receptionist. He will continue his duty as sacristan, a job he first shared with Joan. And his nights (from 10:00 p.m. on) will be here on the first floor of 5621 Richmond where he stays in the extra room we call "the girls room"). I have removed all my things from that room so Jim can make it his as long as he wants to stay.
Since he is getting stronger, he is less fearful of being alone at night. So it will be up to him to determine his future. We enjoy having him here with us because he was an integral part of all our lives (Vivian, Millie, myself) and now we can be there for him as he struggles to recover from the loss of his wife, and his health, all in the same year.
When Joan died, I suggested that Jim write up the story of his life with her, and specifically what she sent through in her battle with cancer. He had jotted down notes as the disease became more and more a part of their lives. It's been a year now since her death, so I imagine much of the suffering has dimmed, leaving him only with the sadness over losing the women he first met and fell in love with. The women who could joyfully participate in the life they had planned together.
I am hoping that when he sets himself up in his day-room at IC, he will have the solitude and time to begin this story. It would be the tale of great courage, and Jim being part medic and part minister would do it justice. Then it will live on in our family's history long after we are no longer here to remember.
January 3, 2000: As an update (and also to explain the title of this story) last week, December twenty-something, Jim brought down the January Issue of Modern Maturity that has an article/interview of Dr. Andrew Weil who wrote the book 8 Weeks to Optimal Health. Jim brought it to my attention with the comment that this guy makes sense! He is our daughters Health Guru so she encouraged Jim to follow his advice. I got Jim the audio book from the library. So it's a tug of war (over Jim) between the medical profession and those of us who want to see Jim do it on his own with less invasive treatments (and this includes Jim, himself).
As far as the living arrangements. Jim stays here every night now. He is a wonderful addition to our group. We are all family in this building. Millie & Bob Fairman on the second floor. Mom and Jim on the first floor, and Mike and I in the basement. It is a wonderful mix of people and living styles.
Jim spends his days at I.C. where he works from 5 to Nine most days, and oversees the church and parish center from 10 a.m. until he begins work at 5:00 p.m. He arrives "home" at 9:30 in the evening. Tuesday is his day off and so he makes his renovation plans for both IC and also 5621 Richmond. In between all this he takes care of Jennie, his and Joan's daughter, and Uncle Ted, Joan's only uncle. We are very happy he has joined us and are benefitting greatly from his decorating and handi-man skills.... not to mention his love of the finer things in life........shopping, cooking, and eating. My kind of guy!
8 Weeks to Optimal Health
...NOT!!!
The Story of Jim Turk's Adventures with the Medical Profession
(as witnessed by his niece and anti-medical profession advocate)
Jim Turk & Barbara Garrison
January 2000