August 13, 2008 (From the old blog)
An update on where things are... Dad died last September, the 20th (which is of course the same day as Sadie's birthday, perfect)... I moved back to Calgary mid-October after spending an extra couple of weeks with my Mom; she and my brother really had a rough transition after Dad died. The memorial service was nice, fire and pizza and beer in the backyard, just what dad wanted. I'm sad he died, but accept that death is a part of life, so I don't dwell. I am happy to have my life to live.
Calgary was okay, but it just didn't fit any more. I was resentful for awhile to have been back home again, as I still wanted so much to be in Korea. Some days I still wish I was there, but most days I'm happy to be home and moving on with life. Living in Korea kind of meant that life was on pause... all things in the "real" world (back here in Canada) stay where there were mostly, and nothing moves until you come back. I had a hard time finding work when I came home, despite the fact that everyone was supposedly screaming for staff... overqualified, was the message I kept getting. Just because I workED management doesn't mean I want to do it anymore, but I had a really hard time getting into anything frontline. I tried a few part-time and short-term jobs, but nothing really stuck. I worked (ugh) retail, worked as someone's admin assistant (not something I should do with my life!), and then drove a CAT740 rock truck - awesome fun, driving around in those big trucks is like playing a video game all day. However, it also meant 28 days with no time off, 12 hour days, no time for anything but work. I enjoyed it while it lasted though!
In May grad school started. I didn't think it would be too much work, but I wasn't really sure what to anticipate. I have had all sorts of feelings about the program so far, but for the most part I've been really happy with it. It is a lot of work... Sadie complains about how little time we have to spend time together (my butt is normally in a chair with a laptop in my lap), but thanksfully she's patient. The courses have been really interesting so far, and though sometimes it feels overwhelming, I really am learning a lot. The self-discovery methods that they use drive me crazy sometimes (i.e. figure it out for yourself teaching), but I'm blown away by the amount a person learns that way! So overall, I'm happy with it. While I was driving truck I was working a 60-80 hour week and doing 2 spring intensive courses (where they squish a full course into 6 weeks). THAT was NUTS. I'm not planning on doing that again, what a time that was!!
Now, Sadie and I have moved to a small town, where the pace of life is slower, people smile a lot more, and I can hear the birds out my window all day while I'm studying. She is working at the hospital, and seems to have finally found a job that she loves and is great at, because she comes home sparkly and happy at the end of the day. It really makes me happy to see her find something she's great at that makes her happy; she was loving teaching in Korea and decided to come home instead of waiting her contract out, so I'm glad there's something extra for her here too! We have a great little 3-bedroom house (that we're renting); we moved out of a basement suite in Calgary, and I have just one word: WINDOWS!!! What a difference in quality of life, just to have the sun shining into our home!
Out pets are up in number again, and we are soon going to have to apply for an animal farm license! We have Sadie's cat Lotus, who has now been to Korea and back again; Nimma and Maggie, a maltese and mini yorkie who joined our family while we were in Korea and came home with us; Mila and Molly, the kittens I got from my brother's place when I first got back; Leroy - the kitten we rescued from beneath mom's neighbour's deck (he fit in the palm of my hand, and had no interest in being rescued, but after 2 days of warm milk and the fireplace mat we had him convinced!), and Neera - latest addition to the family, rescued from the Millet Animal Rescue Centre, she's an Australian Shephard/Heeler cross, and she's lovely! Like I said, soon we'll need a farm permit!
I just had a job interview at the hospital last week to work as a Psychology Assistant, and I think it's something I'm really going to love doing. I'm still waiting to hear back from them, hoepfully it will be today. My courses finish up this term on the 18th, and I'll have until the 8th of September before they start again (2 weeks off, WOOHOO!!!!), thank god! I'll go up and visit mom during that time, see how things are going up there.
Today is an exciting day - our first Godson, whose name is Nattan, is being born today!! His mamma is booked for a C-Section, he decided he was going to jump out feet-first, and the doctors didn't agree it would be a good idea, so here we are! It was scheduled for 11 this morning at the PLC in Calgary, but I know they weren't even in by 10:15, so it likely wasn't until later. I am *so* exicted to go down and see him, we are going to leave as soon as Sadie gets home from work. And, to top it off, we're going to bring Aidan back with us until the weekend when his mamma and the new baby are out of the hospital, which is also going to be wonderful, woohooo!
So all in all, things have been going well. I have 4 papers to write in the next 5 days, must go.
Wednesday, August 13
Thursday, September 20
The Day the Music Died
For all of you who have been in touch with me and my family over the past few weeks since my return from Korea... thank you for your love, support and prayers. They have helped us and comforted us, especially in some of the more difficult hours.
My Dad died this morning, September 20th, at about 2:15am. He passed on peacefully surrounded by his family. A service is still being planned for family and close friends. I will let you know more when things are settled. His care at the Boyle Hospital has been exceptional. The nursing staff were wonderful, and really helped Dad stay comfortable, and made us all "at home" in a very difficult time.
I will be in touch more again 1:1 when I am done dealing with some of the planning "realities" of the situation. Thank you again for all of the love and support you sent our way.
In peace, Shauna.
(she's pointing to his terrible socks)
We'll miss you Dad.
As dad wanted, we will have a small private family service. Following that, a celebration of dad's life will be held at Featherstone RV park, 2 miles east of Boyle on Hwy 663, at 7pm on Saturday evening. All of dad's friends and family are invited to attend.
He told me "I want there to be a big party, and it'll be 'on me'". See you there.
My Dad died this morning, September 20th, at about 2:15am. He passed on peacefully surrounded by his family. A service is still being planned for family and close friends. I will let you know more when things are settled. His care at the Boyle Hospital has been exceptional. The nursing staff were wonderful, and really helped Dad stay comfortable, and made us all "at home" in a very difficult time.
I will be in touch more again 1:1 when I am done dealing with some of the planning "realities" of the situation. Thank you again for all of the love and support you sent our way.
In peace, Shauna.
June of this year, just 3 months ago
Mom and Dad, goofing around (other picture with little D)(she's pointing to his terrible socks)
We'll miss you Dad.
As dad wanted, we will have a small private family service. Following that, a celebration of dad's life will be held at Featherstone RV park, 2 miles east of Boyle on Hwy 663, at 7pm on Saturday evening. All of dad's friends and family are invited to attend.
He told me "I want there to be a big party, and it'll be 'on me'". See you there.
Monday, September 10
Peace, Love, Patience and Fluidity with the Universe - The Last for Now
Dad really declined within that first week. The first 2 or 3 days were good, and then there seemed to be a daily decline. Suddenly he needed a chair in the shower; a cane; a walker; He practically stopped eating, and stubbornly refused to go to bed in his bed (instead of the recliner or the sofa), or to have someone else take over his medications, despite missed doses and the errors he was making.
Our family arrived starting on the Monday of the long weekend (Dad’s brothers and sister and their spouses, and his mom), and it was really nice to have them here. More laughter and food and conversation, we hadn’t seen most of them in years, some of them almost 10 years! I think it has been hard on dad, as he’s up a bit later, doing weird things with his meds because he’s trying to stay awake, and he’s not used to the level of activity. Despite that, I know that he is so so so so glad that they all came to visit and spend time with him and mom. It has been so good for her to have someone to talk to, since she is trying to be strong in front of me, for whatever reason. It’s been so hard on her, and it seems like every time she shows some kind of emotion, she feels like she is being weak, and I can’t seem to change her mind.
I haven’t cried a lot. I’m sad, but there’s work that needs to be done, things that need to be taken care of, and that’s what I came home for, so that’s what I’m doing. Maybe sooner or later it will come crashing down around me, but I feel alright so far… it’s oddly, strangely just happening, and needs to be dealt with. I don’t feel the need to scream and cry, or fight, or do much more than whatever is within my superhuman means to make it better or easier for my parents.
Today is a rough day, for lots of reasons… it’s a rough day for dad, he doesn’t have his strength, he doesn’t want to eat, and he really hasn’t woken up enough to have a real conversation at all yet through the day (and it’s almost bedtime now). I’ve taken over his medications (against his wishes), and put them into the “daily” containers, so we know that if he isn’t doing well it’s not because he’s gotten mixed up and taken too many sleeping pills or something. It’s going to be tough, making the call for when he needs to go into the hospital, but I have limits, I know that. I can’t do it all.
Despite my strength of heart, I know that I can’t be everything, or do everything that’s needed for him to get better. But I can do a lot. I would never be a home care aide, and to anyone out there that is one, I salute you, because I am *surely* not built for it. Like I said, if it weren’t my dad, I wouldn’t be doing any of it. Ultimately, the decision is up to mom, she’s the one that’s going to have to make the call, but when it's time I will walk her into the decision if she needs me to. As far as I believe, as long as he’s able (and willing!) to eat, can sleep, move about the house with his walker, and get to the bathroom on his own, he’s fine to be here in the house. If he can’t do those things we can’t really be enough on our own and he will have to go to the hospital. That's what I say now anyway...
Dad's appointment with the oncologist at the CCI isn’t until the 18th, that’s a week from next Tuesday, forever. I'm beginning to wonder if he wasn't triaged to the top of the list because his cancer is too bad. He is declining so quickly, I don't know if there's really anything that can be done. The doctor here isn't very helpful and he has the bedside manner of a wet sock, so I don't count on him for much. By the 18th I don’t know if Dad will still be home, or if he will be in a hospital somewhere. I’m dreading the day that comes.
Hadn’t saw this one coming. Wasn’t ready. My dad is only 56 years old. He just retired in June, built a campground with my brother, worked hard, dreamed big every day, loved his family.
Sucks.
Shitty.
It really.
Sucks.
It’s really.
Shitty.
I’m praying every day, for peace, for love, for patience, for strength and for fluidity with the universe. Every day. I am grateful for the prayers and well wishes sent in our direction, and every email and letter I get is another good thing I see in the world. As for me, I, continue to pray.
Our family arrived starting on the Monday of the long weekend (Dad’s brothers and sister and their spouses, and his mom), and it was really nice to have them here. More laughter and food and conversation, we hadn’t seen most of them in years, some of them almost 10 years! I think it has been hard on dad, as he’s up a bit later, doing weird things with his meds because he’s trying to stay awake, and he’s not used to the level of activity. Despite that, I know that he is so so so so glad that they all came to visit and spend time with him and mom. It has been so good for her to have someone to talk to, since she is trying to be strong in front of me, for whatever reason. It’s been so hard on her, and it seems like every time she shows some kind of emotion, she feels like she is being weak, and I can’t seem to change her mind.
I haven’t cried a lot. I’m sad, but there’s work that needs to be done, things that need to be taken care of, and that’s what I came home for, so that’s what I’m doing. Maybe sooner or later it will come crashing down around me, but I feel alright so far… it’s oddly, strangely just happening, and needs to be dealt with. I don’t feel the need to scream and cry, or fight, or do much more than whatever is within my superhuman means to make it better or easier for my parents.
Today is a rough day, for lots of reasons… it’s a rough day for dad, he doesn’t have his strength, he doesn’t want to eat, and he really hasn’t woken up enough to have a real conversation at all yet through the day (and it’s almost bedtime now). I’ve taken over his medications (against his wishes), and put them into the “daily” containers, so we know that if he isn’t doing well it’s not because he’s gotten mixed up and taken too many sleeping pills or something. It’s going to be tough, making the call for when he needs to go into the hospital, but I have limits, I know that. I can’t do it all.
Despite my strength of heart, I know that I can’t be everything, or do everything that’s needed for him to get better. But I can do a lot. I would never be a home care aide, and to anyone out there that is one, I salute you, because I am *surely* not built for it. Like I said, if it weren’t my dad, I wouldn’t be doing any of it. Ultimately, the decision is up to mom, she’s the one that’s going to have to make the call, but when it's time I will walk her into the decision if she needs me to. As far as I believe, as long as he’s able (and willing!) to eat, can sleep, move about the house with his walker, and get to the bathroom on his own, he’s fine to be here in the house. If he can’t do those things we can’t really be enough on our own and he will have to go to the hospital. That's what I say now anyway...
Dad's appointment with the oncologist at the CCI isn’t until the 18th, that’s a week from next Tuesday, forever. I'm beginning to wonder if he wasn't triaged to the top of the list because his cancer is too bad. He is declining so quickly, I don't know if there's really anything that can be done. The doctor here isn't very helpful and he has the bedside manner of a wet sock, so I don't count on him for much. By the 18th I don’t know if Dad will still be home, or if he will be in a hospital somewhere. I’m dreading the day that comes.
Hadn’t saw this one coming. Wasn’t ready. My dad is only 56 years old. He just retired in June, built a campground with my brother, worked hard, dreamed big every day, loved his family.
Sucks.
Shitty.
It really.
Sucks.
It’s really.
Shitty.
I’m praying every day, for peace, for love, for patience, for strength and for fluidity with the universe. Every day. I am grateful for the prayers and well wishes sent in our direction, and every email and letter I get is another good thing I see in the world. As for me, I, continue to pray.
Peace, Love, Patience and Fluidity with the Universe - Part III
Now I have been home for 2 weeks. The flight back on Air Canada was terrible (Tara was right, I should have co-signed her angry letter to the company!), but it passed quickly. I arrived in Vancouver with barely enough time to get through the million-people customs line, and sprint across the airport to the ‘Local’ departures area (stopping only to buy a watch so I could stop looking for airport clocks!). I made the connecting flight easily, and arrived in Edmonton only 25 minutes delayed, which I hear is pretty good these days, for Canadian flights anyway. My “little” brother (who has grown into a pretty exceptional man, and is now married with 3 incredible little ones and a wonderful wife) picked me up at the airport, fidgety and anxious to get back home. We waited awkwardly for my bags to come off the plane, and it seemed to take hours, though my 2 were in the first 10 that slid around. He didn’t handle the news of dad’s illness well, or easily. He and my dad had become best friends in the past few years, doing everything together from quadding and camping to working and renovating, and I can’t even imagine the pain that he was feeling at watching our father get sicker and sicker, but it showed on his face.
The 2 hour drive back in excruciatingly slow seconds which we passed making strange small talk, mini-updates about how things had been at home, how dad looked, how mom was doing, but nothing definite or deep. A quick phone call from mom had us turned around on a 15-minute detour picking up a couple of “ice-caps” from the Ft. Saskatchewan Timmy’s, because they decided they might both enjoy one, and Boyle doesn’t have anything like it. We arrived in Boyle, and of course for me, I felt like I had never left.
Gave Mom a hug when I walked up the steps, she was of course outside the second she heard the truck, and cried when I hugged her, and told me that she was so glad I was home. She said that dad had waited up for our arrival, so I went into the house to say hello. Greg zipped off home as he had to work the next day. I went in the house prepared for the worst when I saw dad, but I was surprised, and not as upset as I thought I might be. He was yellow, and Mom had warned me about the jaundice, so it wasn’t surprising, though I remember thinking “wow, that’s an interesting color, he looks a bit like he should be in some strange movie”! He was thinner, but his voice was normal, he boomed out a hello to me, and stood up to greet me. His eyes, though the yellow color of jaundice, had some spark in them, and he stood up to give me a hug when I came in. After that he was quiet, but that’s nothing new for my dad, I’ve always thought him quiet, at least around me. He was a bit chatty, he stayed up for a couple of hours after my arrival home, watching TV, and making light conversation. He walked around on his own, grabbed a drink or something to eat when he wanted it, and was a *LOT* better than I had ever dared to hope.
For the next 3 or 4 days, he was alright, kinda the same. We talked about his funerary plans, what I would have to help my mom with, what I might have to take care of if she couldn’t handle it. We ate together, watched TV together, hung out together. I was glad to be home, and I found that none of the anger or anxiety that had bugged me for the week previous had come with me once my plane landed in Edmonton.
Within the first week, I started to see the decline. First, about 3 days after arriving, he got the hiccups… they stayed for about 5 or 6 days straight, without ANY kind of a break. He even hiccupped in his sleep!! (but at least he could mostly sleep through them). The doctor said that it was because the cancer was forcing pressure onto his diaphragm, resulting in hiccups. His pain medication was “upped”, changing to Oxycontin because the other one wasn’t working. His sleep medication changed to Clanazopam (whatever the spelling), as he hadn’t been sleeping well in the past couple of days. Then of course his eating slowed down. Suddenly, he really wasn’t much interested in eating, where before he at least tried to eat a little. His referral was in at the Cross Cancer Institute, but when I called them, they told me it would be a week until his referral was reviewed after being triaged, and it would be between 2 and 6 weeks before he would see an oncologist. When she told me, I remember saying “Are you kidding!? Do you mean to say that it might be 2 months before he even sees a specialist!!? The Dr. only gave him 3-6 months! (There was that helpful old anger back again). She tried her best to explain their triage system, which I supposed made sense, and I took a deep breath (or ten). Okay. Not. Helpful. Next.
I drove to the CCI to get some information about the cancer, as we didn’t really know much, but there wasn’t much they could give me that would be as useful as seeing the Dr., so it turned out to be a bit of a waste. Dad’s best friend Brian visited for a day and a half on his way home to his family in Legal from Syncrude; He helped cut some baseboards with the meiter saw (which I now know how to use!) and sat on the balcony visiting with dad, who was almost himself for the day!! I stayed up talking with Brian about how difficult it had been, he had to explain to everyone at work that needed to be told, and had the constant reminder of dad’s absence since they used to work side by side. It was good to have him visit, even for the short while.
The 2 hour drive back in excruciatingly slow seconds which we passed making strange small talk, mini-updates about how things had been at home, how dad looked, how mom was doing, but nothing definite or deep. A quick phone call from mom had us turned around on a 15-minute detour picking up a couple of “ice-caps” from the Ft. Saskatchewan Timmy’s, because they decided they might both enjoy one, and Boyle doesn’t have anything like it. We arrived in Boyle, and of course for me, I felt like I had never left.
Gave Mom a hug when I walked up the steps, she was of course outside the second she heard the truck, and cried when I hugged her, and told me that she was so glad I was home. She said that dad had waited up for our arrival, so I went into the house to say hello. Greg zipped off home as he had to work the next day. I went in the house prepared for the worst when I saw dad, but I was surprised, and not as upset as I thought I might be. He was yellow, and Mom had warned me about the jaundice, so it wasn’t surprising, though I remember thinking “wow, that’s an interesting color, he looks a bit like he should be in some strange movie”! He was thinner, but his voice was normal, he boomed out a hello to me, and stood up to greet me. His eyes, though the yellow color of jaundice, had some spark in them, and he stood up to give me a hug when I came in. After that he was quiet, but that’s nothing new for my dad, I’ve always thought him quiet, at least around me. He was a bit chatty, he stayed up for a couple of hours after my arrival home, watching TV, and making light conversation. He walked around on his own, grabbed a drink or something to eat when he wanted it, and was a *LOT* better than I had ever dared to hope.
For the next 3 or 4 days, he was alright, kinda the same. We talked about his funerary plans, what I would have to help my mom with, what I might have to take care of if she couldn’t handle it. We ate together, watched TV together, hung out together. I was glad to be home, and I found that none of the anger or anxiety that had bugged me for the week previous had come with me once my plane landed in Edmonton.
Within the first week, I started to see the decline. First, about 3 days after arriving, he got the hiccups… they stayed for about 5 or 6 days straight, without ANY kind of a break. He even hiccupped in his sleep!! (but at least he could mostly sleep through them). The doctor said that it was because the cancer was forcing pressure onto his diaphragm, resulting in hiccups. His pain medication was “upped”, changing to Oxycontin because the other one wasn’t working. His sleep medication changed to Clanazopam (whatever the spelling), as he hadn’t been sleeping well in the past couple of days. Then of course his eating slowed down. Suddenly, he really wasn’t much interested in eating, where before he at least tried to eat a little. His referral was in at the Cross Cancer Institute, but when I called them, they told me it would be a week until his referral was reviewed after being triaged, and it would be between 2 and 6 weeks before he would see an oncologist. When she told me, I remember saying “Are you kidding!? Do you mean to say that it might be 2 months before he even sees a specialist!!? The Dr. only gave him 3-6 months! (There was that helpful old anger back again). She tried her best to explain their triage system, which I supposed made sense, and I took a deep breath (or ten). Okay. Not. Helpful. Next.
I drove to the CCI to get some information about the cancer, as we didn’t really know much, but there wasn’t much they could give me that would be as useful as seeing the Dr., so it turned out to be a bit of a waste. Dad’s best friend Brian visited for a day and a half on his way home to his family in Legal from Syncrude; He helped cut some baseboards with the meiter saw (which I now know how to use!) and sat on the balcony visiting with dad, who was almost himself for the day!! I stayed up talking with Brian about how difficult it had been, he had to explain to everyone at work that needed to be told, and had the constant reminder of dad’s absence since they used to work side by side. It was good to have him visit, even for the short while.
Sunday, September 9
Peace, Love, Patience and Fluidity with the Universe - Part II
When I left for Korea, there was a brief conversation about coming home if anything happened to my family. My maternal grandparents had both passed away, my paternal grandfather died before I went back to Korea, and my paternal grandmother is a strong battle-axe (and I mean that as lovingly as can be imagined) of a woman who may live forever. My parents were in relatively good health, and everyone else I knew and loved was pretty much strong and healthy. I never thought it would come to be.
First when I heard the news, I felt annoyed: I had plans, things I wanted to see and do, a course to finish, a couple of trips planned, a certain amount of money I wanted saved before returning home... the whole idea of coming to Korea the 2nd time was to make sure we came home with enough money to set up a house, buy a car, all that jazz. I didn’t want to come home to wiat for news about whether my dad was sick, how sick he might be, and what it all meant. Then, I felt worried: what if I don’t get home quickly and he dies? What if I don’t get home before he can’t communicate anymore, and he doesn’t even know that I came home? The I felt annoyed and angry again, I didn’t want to come home, to give up all of my plans, to come back for a purpose that wasn’t my own, to have so many things once again left undone financially. S and I talked it over, a lot. She told me that if it was her dad, she would probably have been on a plane already. I thought about it a lot. Was she right? Should I leave? Well?... Then, I had enough of torturing myself, and I knew I had to come home.
This all happened in the span of the overnight between Tuesday and Wednesday, between the 2 phone calls home... the first call, I was going to be home at the start of November. The next day, I was home on the first flight I could catch. Turned out I was home that Sunday at 5pm before I barely even knew that I had left. I said goodbye to my kids, a wonderful group of 5 and 6 year olds that I loved teaching; I said goodbye to the people I taught with, the 7 other foreigners in the strange world that is Korea… easily the best group of people I have ever worked with; I said an awkward goodbye to the Korean staff I worked with, rushed because of the lack of time, and uneasy because Koreans aren’t great with emotions outside of “happy.” I spent Saturday with S in Seoul, wandering around GyeongBeok Palace for the 2nd day, taking photos with our new cameras, just enjoying hanging out for the day, pretending in my head that I wasn’t having to leave the next day. Waves of anger, anxiety, sadness, worry, relief, nausea and anticipation cycled through me at 6,000rpm, despite the fact that I knew I had made the right decision…
First when I heard the news, I felt annoyed: I had plans, things I wanted to see and do, a course to finish, a couple of trips planned, a certain amount of money I wanted saved before returning home... the whole idea of coming to Korea the 2nd time was to make sure we came home with enough money to set up a house, buy a car, all that jazz. I didn’t want to come home to wiat for news about whether my dad was sick, how sick he might be, and what it all meant. Then, I felt worried: what if I don’t get home quickly and he dies? What if I don’t get home before he can’t communicate anymore, and he doesn’t even know that I came home? The I felt annoyed and angry again, I didn’t want to come home, to give up all of my plans, to come back for a purpose that wasn’t my own, to have so many things once again left undone financially. S and I talked it over, a lot. She told me that if it was her dad, she would probably have been on a plane already. I thought about it a lot. Was she right? Should I leave? Well?... Then, I had enough of torturing myself, and I knew I had to come home.
This all happened in the span of the overnight between Tuesday and Wednesday, between the 2 phone calls home... the first call, I was going to be home at the start of November. The next day, I was home on the first flight I could catch. Turned out I was home that Sunday at 5pm before I barely even knew that I had left. I said goodbye to my kids, a wonderful group of 5 and 6 year olds that I loved teaching; I said goodbye to the people I taught with, the 7 other foreigners in the strange world that is Korea… easily the best group of people I have ever worked with; I said an awkward goodbye to the Korean staff I worked with, rushed because of the lack of time, and uneasy because Koreans aren’t great with emotions outside of “happy.” I spent Saturday with S in Seoul, wandering around GyeongBeok Palace for the 2nd day, taking photos with our new cameras, just enjoying hanging out for the day, pretending in my head that I wasn’t having to leave the next day. Waves of anger, anxiety, sadness, worry, relief, nausea and anticipation cycled through me at 6,000rpm, despite the fact that I knew I had made the right decision…
Saturday, September 8
Peace, Love, Patience and Fluidity with the Universe - Part I
I never thought it was going to be easy. Honestly, and I mean this as kindly as it can be said, I don't really like being around sick people. I hate the smell of sickness and death. It is so hard for me to look into eyes every day that have lost their spark for life. I'm not a big fan of doctors, and I don't like hospitals. I hate things that can't be clearly defined in the medical world, of which there are many. I’m tired of trying to help people that don’t really want my help. If he weren't my dad, I wouldn't be here doing what I'm doing.
2 weeks ago tomorrow, I came to Alberta back from Korea after getting news that my Dad was sick... On that Saturday I talked to my Mom and got news that Dad was sick, going in for a CT Scan; The following Tuesday I got word that it was cancer, pancreatic cancer that had spread to cause lesions on his liver, and the doctors said he had 3-6 months to live... Mom said I didn't need to come home, to wait until we knew more about it, how advanced it was, that Dad wasn't doing too bad. I started making my changes of plans that night (I’m a planner, like to have an “outline” of a plan, if not a definite one)... I would finish my contract teaching in Korea a bit early, do the course I had planned in Arizona, go with S to a friend's wedding in Mexico, and then be home in the first week of November. That felt reasonable, unrushed. S and I talked about it, she said she thought maybe I should be going home sooner, I said I'd think about it...
The next day, Wednesday, I talked to Mom again, and I talked to Dad. He didn't sound too bad, a little preoccupied maybe, but not too bad... when I told him I'd be home at the end of October, and not to go anywhere in the meantime, he said "yah, I'll do my best I guess". I hung up the phone feeling sick to my stomach, replaying in my head that I'd just told my dad, who just received news he is dying within the next 6 months, that I'd be home "in a couple of months", certainly leaving the message that I didn’t think it was really important that he was dying... I decided that I had to go home then. I had already talked to my boss about leaving right before the Fall holidays, kinda like the Korean Thanksgiving time, and we had things pretty much arranged, he handled it with only a minimal amount of stammering and chart-drawing (like he is wont to do when he is stressed, or trying to make more time to think). I talked to him again on Thursday morning, told him I had new news that Dad was sicker than they thought, and I needed to go home then, as soon as he could book me a ticket. You can imagine how big his eyes got, and the way he stammered, trying to work out in his head how he was going to make that happen, but he was pretty good about it... everyone at work was really good about it. I felt really bad leaving so quickly, with so little notice, without everything wrapped up, but there wasn't a lot of choice for me. Family comes first. I wouldn’t have said that was the case if you had asked me earlier in the month; I would likely have told you that family comes next after whatever I wanted… it turned out the be something I didn’t realize was true for me, until this happened. Instead, it turns out, Family does come first.
2 weeks ago tomorrow, I came to Alberta back from Korea after getting news that my Dad was sick... On that Saturday I talked to my Mom and got news that Dad was sick, going in for a CT Scan; The following Tuesday I got word that it was cancer, pancreatic cancer that had spread to cause lesions on his liver, and the doctors said he had 3-6 months to live... Mom said I didn't need to come home, to wait until we knew more about it, how advanced it was, that Dad wasn't doing too bad. I started making my changes of plans that night (I’m a planner, like to have an “outline” of a plan, if not a definite one)... I would finish my contract teaching in Korea a bit early, do the course I had planned in Arizona, go with S to a friend's wedding in Mexico, and then be home in the first week of November. That felt reasonable, unrushed. S and I talked about it, she said she thought maybe I should be going home sooner, I said I'd think about it...
The next day, Wednesday, I talked to Mom again, and I talked to Dad. He didn't sound too bad, a little preoccupied maybe, but not too bad... when I told him I'd be home at the end of October, and not to go anywhere in the meantime, he said "yah, I'll do my best I guess". I hung up the phone feeling sick to my stomach, replaying in my head that I'd just told my dad, who just received news he is dying within the next 6 months, that I'd be home "in a couple of months", certainly leaving the message that I didn’t think it was really important that he was dying... I decided that I had to go home then. I had already talked to my boss about leaving right before the Fall holidays, kinda like the Korean Thanksgiving time, and we had things pretty much arranged, he handled it with only a minimal amount of stammering and chart-drawing (like he is wont to do when he is stressed, or trying to make more time to think). I talked to him again on Thursday morning, told him I had new news that Dad was sicker than they thought, and I needed to go home then, as soon as he could book me a ticket. You can imagine how big his eyes got, and the way he stammered, trying to work out in his head how he was going to make that happen, but he was pretty good about it... everyone at work was really good about it. I felt really bad leaving so quickly, with so little notice, without everything wrapped up, but there wasn't a lot of choice for me. Family comes first. I wouldn’t have said that was the case if you had asked me earlier in the month; I would likely have told you that family comes next after whatever I wanted… it turned out the be something I didn’t realize was true for me, until this happened. Instead, it turns out, Family does come first.
Saturday, April 21
Dreams and Visions
If someone asked you 'what is your dream, or your vision, for your life?", would you have an answer? I assumed that I did, but if I do, I can't seem to spit it out. A person should have dreams for their life by this point, right? Everyone has dreams for their life, don't they? I feel a bit as though I'm just living from week to week and month to month and deciding from that point what to do in the next point, with the dream of having a dream. I've lived life that way for a long time. How do you define dreams? Should they be huge? Should they be small? Should they be attainable, or should they be something that's always just a *little* out of your reach? My dreams have always been shorter-term kinds of things; broad things that I accomplish, and then wonder why I set them as dreams in the first place?
What about goals? If I answer the question 'What are your goals in life?', the answer would sound something like 'to have goals'. I can't describe it in any kind of a straightforward way, no sensible words come to my lips. It's as though I move through my life toward knowingly and acceptingly being what I actually, inwardly, am. I move, very slowly it seems some days, away from who I'm not, from being who I think or thought that I should be, who others thought I should be. And that in itself, who I actually am, remains a daily discovery as well.
My life is a search for self, a path of becoming. Most days, I wish that I had more tangible, measurable goals, like other people I have met. Come on, I'm rigid: I like having goals, things I can measure, lists I can check off; anyone who really knows me would definitely know that! But, at the same time, I know I could never be satisfied with a life where my goal was to get married, have kids, and retire at 50... to have a good job, buy a nice house, buy a nice car, summer at the cottage, and winter in the desert.... Don't those dreams start to feel empty for their dreamers? In our world today we have these crazy quests that result in a stockpile of material goods, and an empty feeling where accomplishment might otherwise roost. I remember having those dreams, thinking that if I could just get the "picture perfect" life, I wouldn't have this feeling inside that something is wrong, that something is missing... thing is, I don't think those tangible goals in life will ever help me fill that space.
My little brother is 26. He's married, has 3 beautiful kids and a beautiful, loving wife; he has a house, a car and a good job. He renovates, enjoys the outdoors, helps and visits with our parents, and likes having a cold beer at the end of his day. And he is happy. He is satisfied with his life. "What more would I want, Shauna?" My parents did things pretty similarly... They had the house up in Ft Mac, the 2 cars (trucks), the 2 kids; they had the summer house at the beach, and the lake lot for camping. They work, and work, and work; they garden, they have family dinners, they watch TV, they enjoy the outdoors, they are comfortable. And they are happy. My mom says that she is happy, as long as her kids are happy. My dad, he doesn't really say anything. When they die, will they feel like their lives were fulfilling? Will they feel like they did what they wanted to do in life, like they became who they were meant to become, that they lived up to the potential of who they could have been?
My goal of becoming, evolving, discovering how to be who I am leaves me with the feeling that I am pursuing a strange end, a self-reflective end which defies itself and is never-ending. My truest self is the one who is in search of herself. How can I ever truly be myself, when the very act of reaching to find myself puts it out of reach? My life needs to have meaning. How do I become the person I was meant to be? My heart's desire is to be a genuine person; to communicate authentically, with an open heart. My life is a search for meaning and integrity, for self-actualization, for becoming who I am, and who I was truly meant to be. The discovery of that piece alone is a daily pursuit... but is it a goal? Is it a dream?
Everyone in life wears masks. I consciously wear the masks of wife, friend, co-worker, foreigner, student, teacher, woman and daughter. Every mask gives me a different energy, a different point of perspective from which to engage with the world. Even alone, I wear my mask of self, being who I think I am, or who I think I should be in that moment. In no moment am I truly unmasked. I can be charming, engaging and charismatic. I can be calm, quiet and introspective. I can be silly, fun and adventurous. I can be serious, directed and disciplined. I can be sexy, alluring and seductive. I can be kind, gentle and friendly. I can be curious, analytical and filled with wonder. I can be sure, composed and confident. I can be loving, honest and supportive. I can be genuine, real and open. I am all these things, these things are all parts of me, yet I am none of them. I can be jealous, petty and whiny. I can be angry, mournful and morose. I can be insecure, uncertain and afraid. I can be fake, dishonest and insincere. I can be closed-minded, rejecting and cold. I can be mean, selfish and harsh. And again, I am all these things, these things are all parts of me, yet I am none of them.
My intention in life is to become on the outside, in every breath and every step, who I am deep within on the inside. I have talked about this before with the people I love. I feel as though I go through my life split: I am both actor and audience. I am always on stage, at the same time watching myself be on stage. It's ironic really. I know a deep desire for unity within, but still I live every day split, standing to one side, watching myself be myself, captive to my own ideas of myself. In everything I do, everything, it as though I am watching from the sideline at the same time that I am interacting with the world. For as long as I can remember in life, I have been constantly consciously observing and evaluating myself, as though I am of two distinct energies. I cannot remember one time in my life where I was fully *inside* myself, where 100% of my energy was devoted to being in that moment. Why is that? Even now as I sit here and type, I review and edit from the perspective outside of myself, that sits and watches what I write and what I do in each second.
Goals... aspirations... desires... ambitions... dreams... visions... for the future, for life, for myself... I still can't define what mine are...
What about goals? If I answer the question 'What are your goals in life?', the answer would sound something like 'to have goals'. I can't describe it in any kind of a straightforward way, no sensible words come to my lips. It's as though I move through my life toward knowingly and acceptingly being what I actually, inwardly, am. I move, very slowly it seems some days, away from who I'm not, from being who I think or thought that I should be, who others thought I should be. And that in itself, who I actually am, remains a daily discovery as well.
My life is a search for self, a path of becoming. Most days, I wish that I had more tangible, measurable goals, like other people I have met. Come on, I'm rigid: I like having goals, things I can measure, lists I can check off; anyone who really knows me would definitely know that! But, at the same time, I know I could never be satisfied with a life where my goal was to get married, have kids, and retire at 50... to have a good job, buy a nice house, buy a nice car, summer at the cottage, and winter in the desert.... Don't those dreams start to feel empty for their dreamers? In our world today we have these crazy quests that result in a stockpile of material goods, and an empty feeling where accomplishment might otherwise roost. I remember having those dreams, thinking that if I could just get the "picture perfect" life, I wouldn't have this feeling inside that something is wrong, that something is missing... thing is, I don't think those tangible goals in life will ever help me fill that space.
My little brother is 26. He's married, has 3 beautiful kids and a beautiful, loving wife; he has a house, a car and a good job. He renovates, enjoys the outdoors, helps and visits with our parents, and likes having a cold beer at the end of his day. And he is happy. He is satisfied with his life. "What more would I want, Shauna?" My parents did things pretty similarly... They had the house up in Ft Mac, the 2 cars (trucks), the 2 kids; they had the summer house at the beach, and the lake lot for camping. They work, and work, and work; they garden, they have family dinners, they watch TV, they enjoy the outdoors, they are comfortable. And they are happy. My mom says that she is happy, as long as her kids are happy. My dad, he doesn't really say anything. When they die, will they feel like their lives were fulfilling? Will they feel like they did what they wanted to do in life, like they became who they were meant to become, that they lived up to the potential of who they could have been?
My goal of becoming, evolving, discovering how to be who I am leaves me with the feeling that I am pursuing a strange end, a self-reflective end which defies itself and is never-ending. My truest self is the one who is in search of herself. How can I ever truly be myself, when the very act of reaching to find myself puts it out of reach? My life needs to have meaning. How do I become the person I was meant to be? My heart's desire is to be a genuine person; to communicate authentically, with an open heart. My life is a search for meaning and integrity, for self-actualization, for becoming who I am, and who I was truly meant to be. The discovery of that piece alone is a daily pursuit... but is it a goal? Is it a dream?
Everyone in life wears masks. I consciously wear the masks of wife, friend, co-worker, foreigner, student, teacher, woman and daughter. Every mask gives me a different energy, a different point of perspective from which to engage with the world. Even alone, I wear my mask of self, being who I think I am, or who I think I should be in that moment. In no moment am I truly unmasked. I can be charming, engaging and charismatic. I can be calm, quiet and introspective. I can be silly, fun and adventurous. I can be serious, directed and disciplined. I can be sexy, alluring and seductive. I can be kind, gentle and friendly. I can be curious, analytical and filled with wonder. I can be sure, composed and confident. I can be loving, honest and supportive. I can be genuine, real and open. I am all these things, these things are all parts of me, yet I am none of them. I can be jealous, petty and whiny. I can be angry, mournful and morose. I can be insecure, uncertain and afraid. I can be fake, dishonest and insincere. I can be closed-minded, rejecting and cold. I can be mean, selfish and harsh. And again, I am all these things, these things are all parts of me, yet I am none of them.
My intention in life is to become on the outside, in every breath and every step, who I am deep within on the inside. I have talked about this before with the people I love. I feel as though I go through my life split: I am both actor and audience. I am always on stage, at the same time watching myself be on stage. It's ironic really. I know a deep desire for unity within, but still I live every day split, standing to one side, watching myself be myself, captive to my own ideas of myself. In everything I do, everything, it as though I am watching from the sideline at the same time that I am interacting with the world. For as long as I can remember in life, I have been constantly consciously observing and evaluating myself, as though I am of two distinct energies. I cannot remember one time in my life where I was fully *inside* myself, where 100% of my energy was devoted to being in that moment. Why is that? Even now as I sit here and type, I review and edit from the perspective outside of myself, that sits and watches what I write and what I do in each second.
Goals... aspirations... desires... ambitions... dreams... visions... for the future, for life, for myself... I still can't define what mine are...
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