it's not about me; it's not about you

John's memorial was absolutely perfect.  The soundman was able to get the videos to work, everyone who spoke honored John's humor, zest for life, and love of Christ.  There were so many people from each aspect of his life: childhood, school, business colleagues and property owners, church.  It was a great tribute to a great life.  The message resounded:  it's not about John or his illness or even his life.  It's about God and Christ's redemption available to us as fallen, sinful creatures.  Therein lies our hope.

The other night I stared at the stars and wondered where heaven really is.  Having seen the documentary on the Hubble Space Telescope and the eons of universes out there, it makes heaven seem almost impossible to find.  How can a person take one breath on earth and their next be in heaven?  These are questions I've pondered before, but now that John is there it is more urgent to me to find answers.  Of course there is a whole lot of trust needed in these concepts.  After the memorial service I voiced my 'where is heaven' question to a very good friend with whom John enjoyed talking about God.  My friend thinks heaven is another dimension.  I can wrap my mind around that.  good answer

The Whataburgers at the reception were a hit, especially with the guys.  And talk about grown men crying.....it was touching to see the expression of emotion for how deeply John touched others.  My school went above and wayyyyyyy beyond in supplying food for the reception.  Even the church ladies were surprised.

I'm sure I'll be processing the memorial for a while.  It was amazing once again how God orchestrates events to perfection.

remembrance table

take note

No luck on my video.  Couldn't get it to transfer to another program, so I totally redid it on John's computer. Stayed up until almost 2 a.m.  It saved it, played it, but when I tried it today, it was lost.  I'm going to set up his computer in the lobby and show just my pictures as a slideshow.

I finally found the video John made.  And boy, am I glad I watched it before the memorial service.  He didn't let me see the ending, and I knew I'd better.  There are three versions.  The first is incomplete.  The second and third are the same song/pictures, but John put a different written message at the end of each.  The one I'm using tomorrow says, "I love you, Laura.  Remember, God is a personality."  He would always remind me that God is real with a real personality and character, not a spirit out in the milky way somewhere.  The other ending was, "I love you, Laura.  I will be back for my body some day."  That phrase may be a little freaky to some at the memorial, but we had long talks about how those in Christ will come back with him one day and our bodies, somehow in some form, will be restored.

Today, our classmate, Roger, posted a fabulous video he made with a lot of the same pictures I was using, so we'll try to use it in the service.

Wednesday night, I searched a lot of places looking for "things" to put on the remembrance table at the memorial.  In my search, I found several more sticky notes from John.  One was in a drawer I hardly ever go in.  I stuck it to the outside of the chest of drawers.  One was in a tin of his that contains foreign money and other trinkets from his past.  I can't figure out what he wrote.  It says, "sinc cupper   xxxoooxxx   Love, John". 

The best find so far, though, was in with the digital camera and flashdrives John put pictures and writing on.  He took a small flip calendar from his bank and circled his birthday, and wrote the x's and o's, and John Cogdill.  On a whim, I flipped to my birthday.  Sure enough.....well, almost.  On the September page, he wrote my name at the top, circled the 24th instead of the 28th, and "Love, John ooooxxxx".  In the picture for my month, he wrote his name twice and more x's and o's. 

Uncle D.C. and Brian got here from Macon.  They're staying with my parents.  Haven't seen them in over 10 years.  I think there's going to be a crowd tomorrow.  Lots of people helping make it a special, special day. 

in the tree stand

so many plans

Walked around the neighborhood with Betsy yesterday and my hips are sore today.  Can tell I've been sitting on my behind for a month. 
This morning started with a meeting with Pastor Bob to plan John's memorial service.  Enjoyed talking with him and remembering times John and I shared.  I think the service is going to be a great tribute to a wonderful, full life.

Mama and I had lunch in Havana.  Sarah came over and Gwendolyn soon joined her.  Randi and Jessica came later.  You know how it is when a bunch of teachers get together.  We do what we do best:  talk.

Pastor Bob suggested I have a scripture verse on the back of the service program.  There are quite a few I could think of and wanted to find which of them meant the most to John.  I got out his Bible and first checked his notepad stuck inside.  Guess what I found.  Another sticky note from him.  This one said, "Love ya! John  oooxxxooo   12-1-10".  It got me searching the pages for more.  On the dedication page he wrote, "John & Laura    Love ya!"

One of John's favorite scriptures to read and to have me read to him was John 12-17.  It wasn't until December that he told me why it was so special to him.  It was the passage he was studying the night he had his first seizure, and since then, he wasn't able to read and study it to the extent he desired. 
At the top of the page of John 14 he wrote, "Love Laura xxooxx".

John took a photograph of a flower in our yard soon after he quit working and I got him the digital camera.  I kept the picture on my computer lapboard.  He hid the picture in his Bible and wrote on the back, "John  ooxx".

The scripture I was leaning to most for the program was John 3:16.  On that page was another sticky note.  "Laura, Christ is Jesus      John xxxxooo".   Definitely the passage we'll put in the program.

Now to get the slideshow to work.................

note of the day

Today I found one of John's notes in my Bible while searching for a particular
scripture for his memorial service. 

His obit was in the Democrat today.  Looks really nice.

This picture was taken a few years ago at my parents'. 

hidden messages

For several months, John has hidden love notes to me all over the house.  I found a couple of them months ago but put them back to "find" another time.  Just found a new one in the basket by my bed, which is filled with pens, note pads, a Bible, lotion, flashlight....all those handy bedside items.  In it, John had hidden a sugar packet from Circle K and on it he wrote
"sugar xoxo  John". 
how sweet

He wrote a few notes even when he could hardly spell or write.  He showed some of them to my sister.  She told me not to get rid of anything, even books, without going through them first.  He told me he was glad he made the notes as far back as he did because he could write then. 

here we go

I'm finally by myself.  No one else here.  It's not the quiet I notice, it's the stillness.  No extra noises in the other rooms.  No footsteps through the house.  I lived alone for 12 or 13 years.  John lived here only 8 months.  It's not like couples who lived together for 50 years and lose a spouse.  But it's still obvious John's not here.  Such a void.  It's more than just the noises, it's him that's missing. 

I know now why people try to borrow home health/hospital equipment.  It's probably different for long-term needs, but in our situation, you need something immediately and only for a short time.  When John needed a bedside potty chair, we needed it that day, and didn't use it but for a couple of weeks.  Borrowing it, thank goodness, was possible. 

Sharon spent the night and we both slept hard.  We rearranged my bedroom last night and adjusted other furniture.  This morning we did something scandalous:  went through the Burger King drive-thru in our pajamas.  Sharon actually got out of the car to get a paper, in her jammies and slippers.

We knew people would be coming later.  Mama came mid-morning, Daddy for lunch.  My sister-in-law's family brought tons of food.  The Grandmas did, too.  I felt so bad because one of my old friends, who now goes to church with us, called to see how John was doing.  She felt ashamed when people at church asked how we were and she didn't know.  I apologized to her for not keeping in touch the last few weeks and told her about John.  One of our neighbors brought a bouquet of camillias from her yard for me and John.  She didn't know either.  I assured her we hadn't told people.  It happened in the middle of the night and used these days to rest.  She and her husband didn't know John well but they liked him and could tell he had a sense of humor. 

49 and one hour

Early Friday morning after I gave John his liquid meds, I tried to reposition his head a bit because he had started to lean over.  I put the head of his bed down some, and he began to gag and cough, although not aware of what was going on.  Mama grabbed me a mouth swab, and I raised the bed.  It all cleared up, but I was scared.  What if it happened again and I "killed" him???  The next dose I gave slower and kept a close eye on his reaction.  Our home health aide arrived to bathe him and I was hesitant to put John through it.  I was afraid he'd gag again or his arm/hand would be hurting.  I was exhausted.  Getting up every hour, half-hour, hour and a half was getting to me.  I'd sleep hard between doses but with lots of interruptions. 
His breathing was loud and close to sounding like his normal snore, and yet not.
The aide felt of John and thought he had a fever.  Sure enough.  His head was hot and face flushed.  The thermometer read 102.  Our nurse walked in and found me in flux about his bath.  They both said it would help John feel better and cool him off.  All went well until they turned him on his side to wash his back.  He stopped breathing and when he was trying to breathe, it sounded like he was choking.  I was a nervous wreck!!  They worked quickly and got him on his back.  He breathed better.  They repositioned him with a pillow under one side and ice packs in six places around his body.  His temp was now up to 103.  We continued to wash him with cool water.  His cath emptied 500 ml again.
The Hospice ladies could tell I was stressed and at my limit.  The nurse said she would try to get me a crisis care nurse/continuous care until the end.  Since he had a fever, his heart rate was 179, and very little air was actually getting into his lungs, she could justify constant care. 
She couldn't claim "caretaker fatigue" as a reason for continuous care.  The nurse's job is to get the patient comfortable and then leave.  They can't just stay and stay.

John was breathing clearly since they repositioned him.  I stayed in the room with him all the time now.  Mama and Sharon were with me.  A little later, we got the call that a crisis care nurse would be here at 4 p.m. and be relieved by another at 7 p.m.  The second nurse would stay all night.  We counted and verified pills and ml's of meds.  John's breathing was hard but regular.  Heartbeat/pulse 120+.  Nothing in the cath.  Temperature coming down.  You could see the rapid heartbeat vibrating in his midsection.

John's brother sent him pictures of the kids for his birthday.  The package came pretty early this morning.  I told him "happy birthday" several times during the day.

I ate in the kitchen while the nurse sat with John.  They will now dispense meds, wipe him with cool rags, monitor everything to give me a break.  It was a weird feeling of freedom.
The second nurse came and the changing of the nurses took place; counting meds, giving info.  They both told me there was a chance the request for them to be there would be denied.  She would definitely stay for the night, but tomorrow could be a different story.  After much discussion, we decided John's insurance would cover their service.

I dozed in bed while the nurse sat at the foot of my bed and used her computer.  I hope she was playing cards or something fun.  She said that people in John's condition with a few imminent symptoms could go for days.  But I can't.  I can't imagine days more of this for him or me.
Mama had been with us for about a week, and everyone was exhausted.

Midnight came and went.  It was officially the day after his birthday.  His breaths dropped from 16 per minute to 11.  Around one a.m., the nurse said, "Here we go."  John's breaths slowed, became more shallow, and I could hear gurgling between breaths.  The sound came from deep within him.  It was awful.

1:15  Mama came to the doorway.  She got Sharon.  The nurse started packing up her computer, notebook, and paperwork. 
fewer breaths

I started counting John's breaths at some point, and made it to 65.  I had my left hand under the back of his neck but I couldn't look at him.  Every breath was with effort.  I thought for sure every breath was his last.  At 1:24, she pronounced him gone.  There was one sharp breath that startled me.  I yanked my hand away and maybe laughed....not sure...at my own jumping.  What a jokester to the end. 
I asked the nurse if she was positive that was the last breath and she assured me it was.  His body may keep making noises but his heart had definitely stopped.  John's biggest fear was for them to think he was dead but he really wasn't.  He must have seen that episode on 'House.'  He wanted me to be absolutely positive he was gone when they said it.

The nurse told me to do what I said I was going to at this time, and that was to go to the other end of the house while she took care of everything.  I was shaking all over.
Mama put on a pot of coffee while Sharon talked more to the nurse.  The funeral home was called and they said they'd be there within 30 minutes.  small town service
The nurse closed the bedroom door and did her thing.  A little while later, Sharon came out with a garbage bag.  It had the catheter, bag, and bedpad.  I told Sharon I'd take it to the outside trash can.  The funeral home guys arrived, dressed in suits and ties, looking a little sleepy.  I had to walk around the hurst to get to the trash.  surreal.  It was here for John.

I could hear the nurse telling Sharon and Mama to take care of the linens so I wouldn't have to deal with them.  She brought in the left-over meds and destroyed them in kitty litter.  We again had to sign to verify the count and that they were destroyed.  Sharon bagged and trashed the linens.
A couple of cups of coffee later, I went to the extra bedroom where Sharon had been, and she and Mama slept in the living room.  I slept hard, and when I woke up at one point, a heavy, heavy feeling set in on my chest when I 'remembered.'  But I went back to sleep.

The day has been weirdly quiet.  It's like everyone knows to be silent.  One phone call, no visits.  Sharon and I went to the funeral home to finalize paperwork.  Daddy saw Sharon's car there while on the way to my house so he stopped. 
John should be taken to Gainesville on Monday, and they'll let me know that he made it.  Eventually he'll be taken to FSU for research.

We got lunch at Harvey's Deli.  Mama finally went home after how many days here.......??.......Sharon is spending tonight.  I called John's parents first this morning.  Gave Tim an hour or so because of the time difference. 
Sharon and I talked about the memorial service and wrote the obit.  Facebook has a lot of wonderful posts about John/Dennis. 

I'm sure I will think of more details and I'll add them.  It's still very weird and unreal.  I'm ready to be by myself and process.