Cruel and Unusual

My father-in-law passed away this week.  I only knew him for 5 of his 70 years but I knew he was a good man.  I intended on being strong and just being there to support Mr and the boys and the family.  That’s not so easy really, unless you are without compassion.  But I care.  I care that he was a good man who spent 50 years with his wife and their children.  (I didn’t even know there were four!)  I care that he spent a big part of his life in pain – his own and his daughter’s physical pain and his family’s emotional torment. 

He served 20+ years in the Air Force, and it was Vietnam that ultimately killed him.  Now I don’t know much about what happened there or how the defence forces provide for the returned servicemen, but I do know that they still don’t accept responsibility for the suffering of the servicemen and their families, caused by the chemicals used in Vietnam.  And I know that that hurt my father-in-law very much. 

I hadn’t known Mr very long before his sister died, but I was with him and his parents that night.  I saw how much they all hurt.  They were open in their grief.  She had suffered for a long time in her short life, having been conceived after Vietnam, thereby being exposed to the chemicals that caused the cancer.  And my father-in-law, I think, blamed himself a little and he was rightly angry that the defence forces wouldn’t accept any responsibility.  I never heard much more about that issue in the years after, but I still wonder if anyone is fighting the fight for those that have suffered so much for the service of their country in Vietnam.

We visited infrequently at the start of our relationship, but we watched Mr’s father getting gradually worse and worse.  And we never talked about it.  That’s Mr’s way, I guess.  He sorts things out in his head with himself.  I don’t know where that comes from, but it makes it hard.  I suppose I do the same thing, because I dealt with my feelings about Mr’s father somewhere in my head.  But I was scared for him and for Mr and for his mum.  How were they dealing with it?  What were they feeling?  I had no idea.  Each visit was just a visit with general chit-chat and never about what was going to happen.  But then, the cancer was always there and so I guess it was inevitable what was going to happen.  Just had to deal with it as best we could – each in their own way.

He was in a nursing home with little independence and less dignity at the end.  It’s shocking to watch someone suffer like that.  And Mr and I have made it clear that neither of us want to have to live like that.  My father-in-law should never have had to survive that.  And his family should never have been made to witness it.  I know absolutely that if he had had his choice, he would never have gone as far as the nursing home.

My grandma was in a nursing home at the end.  She had Parkinson’s / Alzheimer’s / dementia which meant she could no longer take care of herself.  Over 70 years raising a family and gaining independence and surviving what life had thrown at her, and she was reduced to a ghost in a wheelchair, unable to care for her own basic needs or to recognise her own children and grandchildren.  I thought then that it was cruel to keep her alive like that, and my father-in-law’s awful death reinforced that belief. 

It’s the idea that they are trapped in their bodies, their mind knowing what is happening to them but not being able to do something about it.   Not having a choice.  It’s awful and it’s no way to live.  You couldn’t even call it survival.  Modern medicine provides a way to ease physical pain, but nobody can say whether or not somebody suffering at the end of their life knows what is going on around them.  We should all have a choice in deciding when it is enough.  They should have had the choice.

I know it’s still fresh now, and that we are still dealing with his passing each in our own way.  He told me after our last visit to the nursing home that he was angry about his dad suffering like he was, especially after watching his sister go through the same thing not so long ago.  That was a big thing for him to share with me and it helps me see a little of what he’s dealing with.  He’s not an emotional person, so it’s hard for me to connect with him, and to know how he’s coping.  The best I can do is just be here for him, to support him and to deal with my emotions as best as I can without upsetting him.  And I’m trying.

For Me

It’s been kind of difficult to write.  So many things going on – good and bad and indifferent – but there’s the question of what to write about.  After some talking with Mr, I was reminded that Inner Turmoil is about me, for me. 

I’ve been so worried about hits and what people think and what they might say that I forgot the purpose of writing here.  Probably more reason to keep the writing private (i.e. in a diary).  But typing is easier and just remembering this is my outlet has made it easier for me to deal with things.  Knowing there’s an outlet for the times when I can’t talk to someone about things.

And I have things to get out.