May 1, 2009
...
As sleep slowly takes its hold tonight I feel only amazement that the entire week has found me in Florida. I expected so many times to be called away yet am still left waiting. I have never been through a week like this one before. I have no idea how to do another. I suspect the majority of my family feels the same. At this point I have to wonder what my grandfather is holding on for.My college graduation was five years ago today. That winter my grandparents stayed with Mom and Dad as they had been doing for years, but they delayed their return home so they could be here to watch my sister and I receive our undergraduate degrees. She and I sat side by side on the stage as my entire family watched from the third row, and I remember thinking how privileged I was to have all four of my grandparents in attendance.
Sometime shortly before the drive from North Carolina my grandfather ended up making a trip to the emergency room after my mother saw him suddenly clutch the counter. I don't recall the details of the diagnosis, just that it was something with his heart that required what I can only assume was a simple procedure. When the medical staff gave the report they included the comment, "We know he has to be in Florida." I guess he worried he wouldn't make it.
Here we are five years later and he's apparently not going to make it in a much broader sense of the expression. Perhaps if November's hospital visit hadn't happened he and Grandma would have been in NC this winter, and maybe they would have stayed long enough to attend my brother's college graduation. As it stands right now my brother may not even get to go. I can't decide whether to try buying a plane ticket for it or not.
It's tough making plans knowing they may blow apart. I look at my next scheduled trip and wonder if the pause button on our lives will still be active in anticipation of Grandpa's passing. I wonder how difficult it will be to get back into the country on such short notice.
I really have tried to go on living as all of this has transpired. I held to my Saturday plans and told my Mom I wanted updates even if that meant calling in the middle of the Buffett show. I changed Sunday plans only to prepare things for what I thought would be a near-immediate departure. I went to work every day and failed at the illusion of being productive. I went to my sister's several nights for dinner and company so I didn't go crazy in this brand of silence. I'm not the one dying. I shouldn't live like I am.
But it's still hard. I'm ready for it to be over, yet I've felt like an awful person for thinking that way. I'm told one relative asked, "Can't we just put a pillow over his head?" Suddenly I didn't feel so bad. I guess it's tough for everyone. It's strange to imagine a world without my grandfather, but I really just want him to finally have peace. As selflessly as possible, I hope he gets it soon.
Captured At:2142
May 5, 2009
Plot Twist
It's hard to believe that just a week ago my mother called saying my grandfather had been turned over to Hospice care. The family had decided to take him off a course of antibiotics that failed to subdue the infection which had sent his body into septic shock days earlier. They would make him comfortable and let nature take its course. The final update could be as soon as 24-48 hours away.I wondered many things as I considered his catatonic state over the next several days. Did he have any level of awareness? Was his mind dark with time passing unnoticed like a deep sleep or had he stepped into a vivid subconscious world where he lived out days he didn't know were his last. Did he ever see white lights or hear angels? Was he being played back his life story to relive joys and regrets in tune with the sentiments his family shared as they prepared for his end?
During those days the final farewell was assembled. There would be a wake at night followed by a funeral the next day. The venue was known, the roles were assigned, the eulogy was drafted, last rights had been administered. We had everything except the body.
Thursday afternoon after much of the office had cleared out my phone buzzed again. "Your grandfather seems to have rallied," she said. Mom explained that he was the most active they had seen since he was admitted to hospital - but it was nothing to get excited about. His eyes, though moving, seemed to respond more to the stimulus of people shuffling about than actually follow them. His mouth moved, but no sound came out and there was no indication that an attempt was being made at forming actual words. If he had been admitted in the state he was displaying, they still would have believed he was a goner. It was likely a final burst of energy before he passed on.
By Saturday there was no real change in his condition but his organs were showing signs of shutting down. His body no longer needed fluids, so they took him off those as well. And then they began to wait for what could be another week. My dad flew back to NC the next day. While he boarded a plane I shopped for funeral attire, both frustrated with the task and appalled that it was now on par with a wedding or a prom. Would I really want to wear that shirt again knowing I bought it for when Grandpa died?
That night I imagined spending another week in emotional disarray and had no idea how I would make it through. I knew I wasn't alone. My sister lost her one free week between rotations. My brother was trying to complete finals and graduate. My aunts, uncles and cousins were all in limbo. And my grandmother, who had accepted her imminent widowhood days before, still had to wonder when her other half would actually leave her for good.
I told God I didn't understand how we could all keep doing this or why it was being dragged out so long. I asserted my trust that He knew the right time and asked that He be with my family until it came. I had gotten so lost in my fear and perceived grief that I never spent real time with Him to try settling my mind. The substance in any random prayers I had fired off was lacking. Finally I just handed it to him: do what's best and help us through.
When my dad called me at work the next morning it was the first I had talked to him since he told me he was going to New York. "I wanted you to know that we'll be losing your grandfather in the next 7-10 days." With everything taken away there was only so long the body could survive. "Now, if he sits up and wants a cheeseburger, they'll give him a cheeseburger, but that would be the closest thing to a miracle they've seen." But I didn't hope for a miracle, nor did I ask for or expect one. Much like the last time, I could only pray he not suffer more than necessary.
Two hours later the phone buzzed again. I saw my dad's number and knew the message about to be conveyed would be something I'd never forget.
"Well, your grandfather sat up, is receiving fluids and they're going to get him some ice cream."
"WHAT?!"
I was dumbfounded. The update felt like some sort of sick joke. It should have been some of the happiest news I'd ever heard, but I couldn't process it. My mind sputtered, coughed and gave up. I tried to talk beyond sharing the update and failed. My hands would move and my mouth would open, but no sound would come out. I had nothing. I think even Hallmark would have been rendered speechless.
I remain just as shocked by it all now as I was yesterday and, to borrow a term from my sister, am cautiously optimistic. The way the past 10 days have played out I could just as likely get a call an hour from now that says he's gone. It's amazing to me that days ago I wasn't sure what to do once he was dead and today I'm not sure what to do since he's still alive.
Truth is, I have no idea what to believe anymore. This man, who had been on his death bed in the opinion of every medical professional who looked at him, was now very much alive and talking. It just might be the closest thing to a miracle I've ever seen too.
Captured At:1905
May 11, 2009
Different Impressions of a Shuttle Launch
One of my coworkers wrote a Facebook post this afternoon titled "Impressions of a Shuttle Launch". I began to comment on it, but I quickly realized I had more to say than seemed reasonable to squeeze into a box beneath his entry. Some of what I say won't make sense without having read his comments, but I believe the important pieces will shine through.Our departure today was 45 minutes prior to launch. It had to be that early so we had time to drive to, park in and walk to an area where we could watch from 3-4 miles away instead of 6-7. The difference may not seem like much, but how many people are lucky enough to get paid to watch something that inspires them? Wouldn't I be a fool not to take full advantage of it?
I go where I do for launch because I love being closer to the crowds and where the action is happening. Launch day is the one time when it's impossible to ignore that what I struggle with day in and day out is part of something much bigger. It encourages me to keep pressing on because maybe one day some part of that fight will have mattered. Maybe one day I will actually succeed at giving something back to where I have received so much from.
His post (and I say this with no offense meant) was written by a true engineer. Launch is certainly a step by step process and things are very much how he describes. When somebody asks me what it's like to watch a launch from KSC, I suspect I neglect many of those mechanics in my answer.
But an experience is more than sights and sounds. It's emotion. And everybody is different in this regard.
What is it if you're me?
For starters, launch day is anticipation. You turn on the TV and refresh the news sites and watch a clock that can't move fast enough. First you wait for the crew and then, after you've cheered them on, you hope that if a scrub has to happen, it does so early.
Launch day is fear. You know the past and pray it isn't repeated before your eyes. You wonder what it's like to go through life with first-hand experience of a disaster imprinted on your memory and hope you never find out for real. You tremble a little for the people climbing into the vehicle and tremble a little more for the people they're leaving behind.
Launch day comes with a touch of jealousy. There are thousands of people out there who know more about what's happening than you do. You're still just a spectator, not the real thing. There are 7 people about to embark on an adventure you'll never experience. Somebody's viewpoint from the ground will always be better and somebody's pictures will always come out nicer. But you don't think too much about those things and they fade quickly because...
Launch day generates awe beyond description. The smoke puffs outward and the vehicle ascends to cheers of encouragement and approval from the crowd of observers. They provide the only soundtrack for the event's initiation until the sound catches up. It begins low, then steadily crescendos to drown out every other noise. It pops and rattles and crackles giving the impression that the sky is literally being torn in two. You can feel it in your ears, in your body, in your soul.
And launch day is humbling. Within minutes an object that reduces all near it to ant-size is a barely visible speck against God's celestial canvas. The enormity of it strikes you full on and you realize that the force just expended to leave the planet barely ripples the cosmos. You remember the privilege you've been given to freely walk the same grounds as those who made a task as challenging as human spaceflight look simple and routine. You hope you can live up to even half their legacy.
Then you walk back to your car. You return to the office where you sit down at your desk, check pictures you hope are worth sharing, and attempt to get back to work like nothing happened. Like it was any other day and you can be content with whatever task your sojourn on an LC-39 roadside interrupted.
And that's the view from this corner.
Captured At:2217
May 16, 2009
If I'm honest, the only real chaos is mental. My suitcase is almost entirely packed, everything else I need is laid out and waiting, and there really isn't much more I can do this point beyond show up at the airport and hope for the best.
I like travel. I really do. It's preparing for it that I'm not a fan of. The planning, the shopping, the packing, the wondering if somehow something has been left behind...
But hey, most things I can live without, right?
Truth is I've had a very difficult time getting excited about my first venture to Central America. I guess maybe I wanted the world to feel a bit more settled before I left. Work is as much as it can be, I suppose. The home life is still quiet and my grandfather continues to hang on for reasons I still don't understand. I've been told not to worry about it, but I still wonder what will happen if he goes while I'm away.
As I've tossed things in bags today I've thought of the trips where various articles came along for the first time. I recalled talking to the guy in radio shack about Germany while buying those white headphones and how excited I was to take my spiffy new lens to the UK with me. It's funny how I do more living when I'm about to leave than I do when I'm here day to day.
But, really, I'm just rambling now. I have good things ahead of me over the next few days if I can keep my mind open to experience them. I generally hope for any number of things with each big trip I take. I think what I'd really like on this one is peace. And if I find it and can manage to bring some home with me, all the better.
Captured At:2224
May 30, 2009
Accomplishment
I suspect that most people enjoy the feeling of achieving something. The drivers for it are different and the tasks vary in size, but there is little arguing that knowing something is done brings a large sense of relief and, depending on the task, pride. We've met a goal. We have something no longer hanging over our heads. We've removed some of the chaos from our lives. How could one not feel good?What's puzzling is that many of us will also delay our chances for that feeling. Laziness, apathy, fear, and blatant procrastination all keep us from that sense of having done something worthwhile. We chase so many other things that feel good. Why let this one slip away?
That's the question I'm asking as I laze on my couch this afternoon with a million things that need doing. I remember how good it felt two weeks ago as I crossed things off my mental pre-departure list and believed I was ready to go. I enjoyed the motions of doing and finishing even if I didn't particularly enjoy parts of the what they focused on. I wondered why I'm wired to not do when doing feels so good.
I guess part of the problem is that I don't collect accomplishments in a jar like spare coins. The good feeling is fleeting and the outcome often seems trivial. Take my Masters, for example. I worked my tail off to get through and I know I was pleased with some of my work, but when the diploma showed up as a sign of "yes, you really did it" all I could do was shrug and open the next piece of mail.
Then I think about work. I'm glad to see things done that needed to be done, but what few times a sense of accomplishment comes along there is no feeling of reward. X is taken care of. Great. But it generally doesn't feel as good as one might hope.
Yet there are other people out there whose accomplishments - no matter how small - are everything to them. They walk around full of pride from the vest of patches they've earned believing it gives their life meaning and justifies their existence. I don't know if their bar is that low or their self esteem is that bad or their ego is just that out of check. It's simply beyond my understanding.
I guess we all just have different ideas of what's important. And it's correctly labeling that important that is the real trick. If you feel like you're succeeding at it, discovering later that it wasn't actually important can be a very Earth-shattering revelation. And if you feel like you're in the failure column at what's important, it's obvious why you wouldn't feel good about getting the lesser things right and everything else would seem to be falling downhill.
I've realized I don't understand my own metrics anymore. That in itself is a worthy accomplishment.
Captured At:1308