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Tag: death

Moving, and moving on

Sometimes it takes leaving the familiar, moving, and moving on with life.

My dearest friend, I call her soul sister, she is part of my tribe, chosen family.  I’ve known this amazing womyn for 15 years.  We have mentored each other throughout.  Neither mother, sister, or daughter by blood but all three we have been to each other.  Almost three months since being diagnosed with incurable brain cancer she still gifts us all with her presence.  Yet it becomes more difficult every day.  No pain.  Just sleeping a lot.  Increased difficulty with motor skills and memory when tired.

Last week I had to do one of the hardest things in my life.  We hugged, we cried, and we said goodbye as she boarded the shuttle to the airport.  Yet there was relief and the knowledge that family will spend time together.  We will continue to chat and text.  Her blood family lives in Portland, Oregon.

Sierra cat shed porch Berta's Yarnell ArizonaNow I am owned by a cat.

Berta & Gaelyn Yarnell Arizonalousy selfie with Berta 6-14-17

Even though I have spent 12 winters living in Yarnell, Arizona I never really socialized much.  I do love the landscape, climate, and small sized community.  Yet I really came here because of Berta.  And through her I’ve met just a few special people in town.  A few weeks ago I attended a local talk about the geology of the boulders in Yarnell.  They are granitic plutons that look much like those in Joshua Tree National Park and the Alabama Hills in California.  I went as a stranger, not even thinking anyone would know me yet had to talk to several people about Berta.

The inevitable Southwest spring winds were rocking the camper and fortunately keeping the temperature down to 80°F so I didn’t need the AC to survive.  Mostly I sat at the computer for the last several months brainlessly following social media while labeling over 22,000 photos so far this year.  I’ve actually completed 2017.

Berta looking hot Prescott ArizonaBerta at NOAH’s thrift store Prescott AZ

Berta and I first met at a fleamarket over a beautiful vaz I was trying to sell and I asked her to look it up for me online to determine it’s value.  Turned into a $12 vase.  We’ve liked each other ever since.  There will be more stories.

I returned from the shuttle feeling drained and exhausted.  Sierra (my new cat), sat on my lap keeping me in Berta’s chair for almost two hours.  I needed that.  She might have too.  Berta encouraged me to make her place home.

inside house Yarnell Arizonaone big room, no curve, ~55 x 15 feet with a bathroom added on (crappy phone panorama)

I stayed in my camper that first night then spent most of the next day making the house livable for me.  Although not packing everything Berta I did move a few things to make room for a cardtable-desk where I can see out the door and windows.  Paid for that later with very sore shoulders and back.  I love to look at Berta’s eclectic collection and like every piece even though it is not the way I would decorate.

door view Sierra yard shed sign Yarnell ArizonaPart of me wants a vacation, yet I don’t want to go anywhere at all.  Nor can I really afford to.  But it does sound appealing to catnap Sierra and take a little journey.  Find out if my new owner likes to travel.  She does like to go outside and knows her local neighborhood.

trees boulders sunset Yarnell ArizonaI still don’t have a job but at least I have a place to live (three places really) and food in the fridge.  For a gypsy like me it seems unusual not to be rolling down the highway.  Instead I have to start moving on with life.  Yarnell is a perfect place to be, at least for a while.

shed yard garden house Yarnell ArizonaPardon me, it’s time to feed the birds and water the flowers.

 

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Living with life and death

There is life and death in this little community of Yarnell with a high percentage of retirees, seniors, aging boomers, and almost centurions.  And let’s face it, death is not the part of life most of us want to think or talk about.  Thus I am struggling with this and why I haven’t posted in a while.  Death has been on my mind lately and I have been talking about it.  My best friend Berta is dying of cancer.  There, I said it.

fence camper trees clouds Yarnell ArizonaThe camper is parked in Berta’s yard and I am helping wherever I can.

Beginning in mid-February Berta noticed difficulty writing and walking in a straight line the direction she wanted to go.  I took her to Prescott hospital some 40 miles north of our rural little town in preference to the much smaller Wickenburg 25 miles south.  Tests and scans were done.  Weeks later a second opinion at Mayo Clinic in Scottsdale with a biopsy confirmed lung cancer metastasized to multiple brain tumors.

Western medicine tells us brain cancer is incurable, yet there is still a push for radiation treatment followed by chemo.  And doctors don’t know if either really help a person live longer.  Five minute full brain radiation treatments are daily for 2-3 weeks with a long drive so even though presumably not painful would be exhausting.  Berta did a lot of research regarding these suggested treatments, natural alternatives, and change in diet to reduce inflammation.  For a couple weeks ideas changed almost daily.  Yet during this time steroids and anti-seizure medicine have been helping immensely.

Berta’s daughter came down from Portland for two weeks during the zaniest of doctor visits.  Her second week here I took the opportunity to get away for a few days and visited with friends volunteering at Casa Grande National Monument only four hours away.

Berta's side yard Yarnell ArizonaSide yard view

The big question is “How long do I have to live?”  And nobody can tell us that.  Her daughter, SIL, grandchildren, friends, and I are not dealing with this anywhere near as well as the patient.  We will feel the pain of her loss, she will be set free.  She is not in pain, just looking to increase the days, weeks, months, or years.  Did you know there are no pain receptors on your brain?  This is about quality of life.  If I could feel good and go about my life, I believe that would be my choice.  Sometimes I think that ignorance is bliss.

I selfishly think of who will take care of my mail.  Will I have an address or excuse to be in Yarnell?  Where will I call home base?  Who will kick my butt when I’m stupid and hug me when I’m down?  Who will laugh at the antics like repacking the Toyota at a yard sale five times to get it all in?  Really, you had to be there.

tree boulders Weaver Mountains clouds sunset Yarnell Arizonabirthday sunset

The end of March came.  After weeks of me doing a lot of nothing, labeling photos, spending way too much time on Facebook, driving to town, and being available, on the morning of my birthday when I’m happily answering FB birthday wishes, I ignore multiple phone calls until a text comes through that Berta has been stung by a scorpion.  OMG, I’m on the run as she’s been stung before and experienced anaphylactic shock.  But this time she’s OK with Benadryl and ice.  We actually went out for an early dinner that day.

A couple days later Berta fell outside and I didn’t hear her calling.  The 7th day Adventists were driving by, saw her, and notified me. She lost her balance and had a “wake-up call” to use the walker.  Scraped arm, don’t think she bumped her head.  Scary that I didn’t hear her.  Does this mean someone around 24/7?  The idea scares both of us.  She begins to wear the car’s panic button which I would surely hear, along with the neighbors.

I am scared.  I’m loosing my best friend.  I feel broken, and fragile.  Thank goodness for a few people in town that help me ground and get out of the pity pot.  I move past the sorrow and become more realistic and positive.

Berta and Sierra Yarnell ArizonaBerta, for the most part, is happy.  Maybe sleeping more and running around less, but still sharp most of the time.  When she’s fatigued, forgetfulness occurs more frequently and motor skills are not the best.

Her daughter and SIL come for another visit.  For now, Berta wants to be in her home.  Yet we all know a time will come when we are not able to help anymore.  I will stay for her as long as I am able.  Right now, life is one day at a time.

boulder moon rise Yarnell Arizona

“Because we don’t know when we will die, we get to think of life as an inexhaustible well. Yet everything happens only a certain number of times, and a very small number really. How many times will you remember a certain afternoon of your childhood? Some afternoon that is so deeply a part of your being that you can’t even conceive of your life without it? Perhaps 4 or 5 times more. Perhaps not even that. How many more times will you watch the full moon rise? Perhaps 20 and yet it all seems limitless.”
–Paul Bowles from The Sheltering Sky

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Memorial to Carsondog – bears, bones, & balls

My Carsondog, oh how I’ll miss him.
Carson was diagnosed with a tumor pressing on his esophagus. There may be more. I believe it’s called lymphatic cancer. Nothing can be done, and it’s only a matter of time. I brought him back home Wednesday knowing I’d have to take him back, when I decide too. So that’s today, Friday, at 4:30pm, when I set his spirit free.

Carson at the Wind River Fleamarket Carson Washington Summer 1997Summer 1997 Carson, Washington

It’s been an amazing 11 ½ years. I’m so glad Carson picked me out of a litter of nine. From the spotted puppy wearing a beret and sleeping with a stuffed teddy bear bigger than he was. The watchdog in training who wanted to greet every person that came his way.

Carson at Fleamarket Carson Washington Summer 19971997 Wind River flea market Carson, Washington

Fetching a ball or stick until my arm wore out. And always wagging his tail so hard that his whole body wagged along. The first time he went to the desert and walked from shade bush to shade bush, or sat in my shadow. He’d shiver and run into the bus when the coyotes howled. Or sometimes he’d sit between Dale and I out at the campfire. I don’t know who was protecting who. Smart enough to teach himself how to sit up and beg.

Gaelyn & Carson Vicksburg Arizona Dec 20042004 Me & Carson Vicksburg, Arizona

Singing with the harmonica, recorder or ocarina, a D dog. Frolicking in the snow, pouncing on snowballs or gingerly carrying them back to me. No, he didn’t always come when he was called. But he did always come eventually. Motsy and he running together, sometimes both carrying the same stick. The adorable nine puppies they produced.

Motsy and 1 day old puppies Eagles Cliff Washington Sept 19981998 Motsy with 1 day old puppies

Carson at Crater Lake National Park Oregon Sept 2007Carson’s always been a traveler

“Get in the truck,” and there he’d be sitting in the passenger seat. Or the driver’s seat if it was empty. Nose prints on all truck windows he rode in. Asking to sleep on the bed when I was in it and treating it as his own when I wasn’t. Never chewed anything that wasn’t his. Knew the difference between my bones and his. Only once made a mess in the house and he was sick so couldn’t be faulted. He could hold urine for 12-14 hours, and then pee like a race horse. How he howled and cried when he ran into a pickup truck causing the pancake right rear foot. And when it got cold outside he’d run ever after with a hitch in his giddy up. Only in the last year did he learn to walk semi-nicely on a leash. And that with the help of neighbors and friends who walked him more than I did. So my fault that he’d tug and pull on the leash and one time pulled me to my knees to chase another dog.

Carson at Cave Creek Oregon Aug 20072007 Cave Creek campground Oregon

And how he loved to swim and chase sticks in the water. Even trying to pull roots out of banks that were underwater bubbles rising up from his nose. But he’d only go in the water if he could walk into it not jump. And he didn’t like the ocean. How he’d shake and cower during fireworks trying to hide in a space smaller than himself. Bumping his butt on anybody and anything, trying to scratch his g-spot. Looking at me in the mirror to ask permission to go upstairs into the bedroom. Playing fetch side by side with Kaley. Digging a hole in the earth under the trailer, his dog house. Wrapping his rope around trees, poles, stumps, rocks, even clumps of grass and undoing it when I wasn’t home but barking for help when I was. Whacking the empty water or food bowl to just remind me. Rolling in poop and dead things when he was young. Eating huckleberries right off the bush. Meeting a cholla cactus with his nose and patiently letting me pull out the spines.

Carson at Antilon Lake Washigton May 19991999 Atalon Lake, Washington

Chin on couch and sad eyes looking for attention. Laying still and quiet watching the birds. Slowly creeping forward on his belly when told to lie down and stay. Bringing toys to greet visitors at the door. The thump he’d make as he jumped off the bed when I’d come home. The crunch as he chewed on a bone. Barking at every dog that goes by. Stinky farts and “the look” that went with. How he held a pebble in his teeth to scratch his foot, then sit it down purposefully between his feet, wash and pick it up to do it again. How he cocked his head listening. His mixed message of back hair standing up in a stripe while tail wagged.

Carson Oct 2005 Yarnell Arizona2005 Yarnell Arizona

Those big beautiful soft gentle brown eyes. How he’d jump up and down but not on you. Well maybe your toes. I almost named him Tigger for that jump. All stuffed toys were bears and all toys began with a “b”: bones, balls or bears. A dog treat every morning after his first trip outside. Going to bed before me and getting up after me. Getting stung by bees after digging up a ground nest. Sniffing smoke: cigarette, campfire, diesel, smudge. Breaking his clothes-line rope and staying within his boundaries with two feet of rope dangling from his collar. Light brindled as a puppy, darkening as an adult and lightening back to gray as a senior. Snoring. Letting me wipe his feet. Scratching the door to go in or out. Learning how to lick his lips from Duece, Cyindi’s Rotty. The Vet gave him a shot to calm him and now he’s lying outside half in sun and shade sleeping, peacefully. The unconditional love. He never knew when he got a shot. Does he know he’s dying?

Carson enjoys the Yarnell Arizona spring sunshine March 20082008 Yarnell, Arizona

Rolling on his back, belly to the sun. Not eating 2 ½-3 days when I’d go away. I got a man in my life so I needed a dog in my life. Carson was around twice as long as the man. Gray brows. Someone to talk to, my companion and partner. Stepping over him and usually missing. Dog hair, my hair. Hair everywhere. It’s so hard. I really don’t want to do this again. My house will be so empty. Circle, circle, circle then lay down. Tripping me with his rope. Little kicks and murmurs when he’s sleeping, maybe dreaming of a big chase. Wearing my old Forest Service belt made into a collar. The yawn talk. Such a good boy. Silky ears. My labby mutt. Little woofers. Snapping at flies, afraid of bees and knowing the difference. Best friend. Bed warmer. Funny boy. Nose bumping my arm to get scratches. Laying touching my feet. Hiking………..

Carson at trailhead East Rim viewpoint GRCA Arizona June 2008Summer 2008

I dug a grave where Carson can watch the birds. I buried him with bears, balls and bones.

His spirit energy simply took on new form within the universe. But oh, how I will miss this simple form of mass covered with silky hair, tail wagging, and those brown eyes staring into my soul.

“And can it be that in a world so full and busy, the loss of one weak creature makes a void in any heart, so wide and deep that nothing but the width and depth of eternity can fill it up.”
                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                 –Charles Dickens
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