July 1st, 2019 Lowell and I have arrived in Huntsville, and talked to each of the kids to let them know that Grandpa is not doing well, and we don't know how much longer will live but do know that his health will likely decline rapidly. I especially want James to know this, as he is scheduled to leave for a missions trip to Kenya on July 3rd.
They are able to come to Huntsville and visit with Grandpa Lawther and surprisingly he is awake. His eyes are open, anyway. This is the last day I remember him being awake for any amount of time. After July 1st, he sometimes flutters his eyes open with little recognition.
July 4-6 Mark, Barbara, and I alternate times sitting with my dad. He still isn't eating or drinking of course. It is my nature to want to try and feed him some broth or at least try to get him to sip something, but modern medicine has determined that this actually causes fluid build up that can lead to pneumonia. Waiting and doing nothing is the hardest part. It is my nature to want to fix things, or at least try and do something about them. That won't be possible this time.
We are waiting to get word from my sister Alison to see when she will come and visit Dad. She has to get a flight from Austin, Texas. Flying on a holiday is tricky and expensive. She is able to visit with my dad on July 5th.
July 6th, 2019 My dad passed away in his sleep early in the morning. Barbara was by his side. She calls the house to let Mark and me know. I am able to go to Whitesburg Gardens in time to see the funeral home come and take his body away. Being in the room with death (or rather a dead body to be blunt) isn't something new to me. I sat in the room with my Nanny for a small amount of time after she passed in 2005 at Northport DCH. I wasn't by her side when she passed away, but received an early morning call from the nursing staff there. I wonder what it is about this time of the morning? Possibly that as humans we experience some of our deepest and most peaceful sleep? The Hospice staff at Whitesburg told us that many deaths occur during the "wee hours," 2AM-6AM. Barbara had told me that she woke up early that morning and knew that she needed to go on and visit with my dad.
Anyway, back to being in the room. It is a strange feeling, especially after you have sat long hours watching someone slowly fade from this earth. Upon looking over at the hospital bed, you tend to look for the rise and fall of the chest, the physical sign of breathing. You listen for one last gasp or attempt to speak. Death in its finality doesn't give us those things. It is a final rest. It leaves behind sorrow and grief yet there are those that rejoice because their loved one is no longer in pain My dad was a changed man in his later years. I believe he has found his rest in the arms of our Heavenly Father. I believe he was able to give my mother Jerry a long overdue hug, whatever that might look like in Heaven.
I wouldn't describe my relationship with my dad as super close or even always loving. It was a struggle at best. He disciplined me with a stern German hand and personality. I often found it hard to measure up to his expectations. My response in the teen years was silence and rebellion. Rebellion against the many rules that my dad and step mother had for me. When I married Lowell in 1989, I was happy to leave and cleave. However, our first years of marriage proved equally as difficult as our dating years. My dad...always watching and listening and offering advice that I really didn't want. It was a struggle. Now, why share this little bit of information? Because as I look back through the years I realize that this is how my dad knew how to love. He truly did love his little girl in his own way. He loved me through his discipline. I began to understand this when I had my own children. It is true that you see things differently when you become a parent yourself. And I also say this to explain that though there was grief, for me it was minimal. Don't get me wrong, I have some wonderful memories of my father, but I am now 30 years removed from his house and have a family of my own. Time has a way of changing all things, sometimes for the good and sometimes for the bad. So I grieve mainly for those left behind, my kids who knew him as Grandpa and especially for Barbara who cared for and loved him deeply.
On July 9, 2019 my dad Werner Krethe Lawther was laid to rest. Here is a link to the obituary for the purpose of documentation Obituary The graveside ceremony included a Naval tribute for his service and was very meaningful. It was a HOT July afternoon.
On July 10th, I would return to Tuscaloosa for my first visit with Dr. Gross, general surgeon. He explained to me the results of my previous mammogram and the need for a further biopsy.
July 17th, 2019 I had a stereotactic breast biopsy, which is guided by a mammogram image.
Somewhere around four days later, the week of July 22, I received the confirmed diagnosis of DCIS. Ductal Carcinoma in Situ. Non invasive. Stage zero. Treatable. These are the words that I remember. I also remember lumpectomy and radiation. And MRI. Dr. Gross really wanted me to have an MRI because I "deserve one." Thanks, insurance companies, for including me (who is high risk for cancer) in the deserving category. I am now here to tell you that if you deserve an MRI, don't rejoice. You can, however be thankful for that aspect of modern medicine and all that it affords in the area of diagnosis and treatment.
On July 31, 2019 I had the MRI. I won't go into detail here. I will carry that forward to August, because there is oh so much to tell along with it and this post is long.
Blessings,
Monica
Psalm 107
