It seems so long since last checking in here; digests have accumulated over the last couple of weeks I can never catch up with, so off to archive with them. Since a week ago Saturday I have spent almost every waking moment at the hospital with Melanie.She died Saturday night.Those of you who have been here since the early days, at least back when I was the "mayor" of Childfree Village, will remember that we almost got married. There were a lot of conflicts and problems, may of which we communicated about, and eventually I called off the engagement. I did it because I felt I had to for my mental health; we were simply not a possible couple, for a lot of reasons.
But I didn't want to lose her; through efforts we stayed friends and still did a lot and talked a lot together.Last August she was diagnosed with incurable cancer of unknown origin. I promised to see her through it, no matter what. She tried an alternative therapy which didn't work (hydrazine sulfate, see this link for a pretty appalling story of medical malfeasence in the NCI), and finally had to give up because the diet was so restrictive she was starving. I thought I was going to lose her then.After she got off the therapy, she got connected to the Oregon Health Plan, the best insurance for low-income people in the country. She connected with hospice, but got kicked off after she signed up for radiation therapy, even though it was declared pallitive-only by the doctor. Damned medical bureaucrats!During the fall months she got her affairs in order. She got the paperwork needed, arranged for cremation, talked to hospice people, investigated the assisted-suicide option Oregon has and was very glad to have the choice.Ultimately she rejected that choice, and it was a good thing because if she had chosen to die any sooner she wouldn't have reconnected with her family, with whom she had some serious disagreements. When I met them in the hospital on her 3rd-to-last day, they seemed to have put aside all their differences and were all there for her.Her father had come through with money to help her cover rent and such, but all along she continued to work and do astrological charts for people, but could no longer update her daily projections on the Cosmic Clock, her online column pages. To see the pages now, visit http://www.spiritone.com/~egg/ and be sure to check out the Kelli Michaels link, her nom de net, for the astro stuff. (No longer on the Net - mp) Mark, her son (31), who is a fantastic guy, jumped in to help her too, taking much of the load off of me. While she had a number of friends in this town, and many close friends in Flagstaff and northern California, where she lived from the '60s up to 1994, it was me that she depended on, and Mark.Realize that I still loved her a lot, and that grew even more because no longer was there a reason for the conflicts and arguments that plagued us before.After the first week of radiation therapy she had to go into the hospital for a related problem and it looked like she would get out once she got "unplugged" (caused by the pain pills) but took a turn for the worse on Tuesday. She went back into intensive care and almost left us then. But she improved and after two days got moved to a regular room where her family held a mini-Xmas party for her. By then she was sleeping 18 hours a day and had to breathe through an oxygen mask. She refused a breathing tube because she didn't want to prolong life that way - it would make her unable to speak. If you knew her you'd know that was simply not an option. "There are things worse than death," she said, and losing the ability to speak at all while being conscious is one of them.By this time I was staying with her all day, every day, time out for a couple of clients on Monday and Tuesday and going home to sleep only after being sure she was stable and would live through the night. Mark was there even more; leaving later and arriving earlier and getting maybe 2 hours of sleep a night. Blackus, my 17-year-old cat, went a bit neglected during that week, and the poor thing has only a few more months left himself due to a failing liver.The rest of the family got there on Thursday, including her older brother who accomplished the near-impossible task of getting a plane out of Mexico, during this Christmas season, in one day. Carol, her best friend of 20 years, arrived Saturday morning; she simply could not get a flight at all and just drove the whole way. Fortunately Melanie was able to wake up and recognize her and smile. Melanie had told her "Don't go driving all the way up here, now!" Carol has debilitating disorders and it was an heroic effort to make it. After seeing Melanie, she went to a motel to shower and planned to come back later that day or Sunday.The family, except for her older brother, had to leave Saturday afternoon so we said very tearful goodbyes. Mark asked me if I could sit with her from 6pm until 10, so he could get some sleep right in the room on a day bed that the hospital provided, and then leave so he could be alone with her all night and say his goodbyes. Of course, I said, and those last 4 hours I listened to her breathe and sang to her and talked to her and thought about a lot of things and what she meant to me over the years, and how much I wish I hadn't hurt her so by breaking us up last year. I kept thinking, I should have tried more, harder, something else. Counseling hadn't worked.I woke Mark up at 10 and kissed her goodbye when Mark went for some coffee. I went home to feed Blackus and go to bed, planning to get back in the early morning. At 12:20 Mark called to tell me she had died. He too sang to her, and told her how much he loved her and how she could let go now, it was all right. She was not in pain and was sleeping all the time. He told me that after he said that, a tear formed in her eyes, and one closed as she sighed one final breath. He called the nurse in and then called me. I jumped out of bed and made it down there through the freezing night. I am so glad she wasn't in her hard-to-heat loft during this cold snap.I ran into the ward so fast no one saw me and I went straight to her room. There she, or rather what used to be her, lay, no mask any more, no breathing, gone. I lost it. I'm crying now as I type this. I wailed like the people you see in news reports. Now I know what it feels like to lose someone you love; I now know how widowers feel even though we hadn't gotten married and built a life together. I still loved her so much anyway; she was my number one person and I had not even tried to date or find someone else since we broke up because I didn't really want to. We were still connected in a deeper way that I couldn't explain as just friendship.Mark was phoning people in the nurse's area and I went to him and we hugged and cried together. It was the first time he really cried afterwards because she went so well. She was a trouper, cliched though it sounds, to the end, and she let nature take its course. She allowed intervention only in the sense of oxygen and catheters, and IV. She didn't go until all the important cycles were closed, and then she just went.Mark said he would take care of packing so I called Carol at the motel and drove straight over there. We talked for a couple of hours and I learned more about Melanie and her past life than I had ever learned from her directly. Melanie has made a real impact on a lot of people over the years, and a lot of people love her. If I had only known... but I know to avoid the "if onlys." It was from Carol that I learned that Melanie just loved the fact that I was there for her; she said it "restored her faith in men." That made me cry too, because I hadn't done much for that faith when breaking us off.I got home at 3:30 and sheer exhaustion put me to sleep but I woke up pretty early still. I had a lot of people to tell and the first was a mutual friend Dinah, the only one I could talk to about this over the months. I went over there and she fed me and let me cry and talk, and we went shopping and I just hung out. I called some more people from her phone. (I had told Mark I would take care of letting everyone outside of the family know.)I never told you guys during this period, because Melanie was very private, and did not want what was happening to her known by people she would still be seeing while she was up and around. Not like me; when I had my heart troubles I put it out to all and sunder. One of her friends is here on the list so I respected her wishes.Mark and I still have a lot to do now. We need to take apart the loft and move things to his apartment; set up her Mac in his place and replace the one he has. (Any of you want to rent an artist's loft with a wonderful view of downtown Portland? Things could be arranged.) I have to finish fixing her site; moving her domain happened just as she entered the hospital; the new host doesn't support .shtml so all the pages need to be changed and eggfeathers.com is returning a "no DNS entry" message. The site needs to be converted into a memorial so people won't think she is still in business.I now have a new friend in Mark, and a connection to her family I never thought I would have, or even want. And now a new chapter in my life begins, with Blackus along for just a little while longer.I know this is long, probably an entire digest, thank you for listening. I am all right but will be in mourning for some time.Michael
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