Parallel Aquatica

Yesterday afternoon arrived far too quickly for Craig and by 3pm, we made the executive decision that Boulder was just out of reach. In line with the hospice folks' assessment on Thursday, Craig has grown increasingly tired, having further difficulty waking up, talking, and interacting. That's no bother to us apart from the obvious distress of watching Craigery's "system" slow down, but he indicates a level of disappointment and anxiety not having more energy. Every now and then, he'll indicate how perplexed he is of the growing fatigue and somnolence. While helping him with his shower late last week, he mentioned how he has virtually no upper body strength anymore, not enough to fiddle with cumbersome water faucets and the like. Taking off and putting on his shirt is a chore and pulling up his boxers is a recently declared impossibility. I helped him with his shower yesterday when he called "girls?" and mentioned his executive decision to require help. One could easily hear the effort it took to come to the decision of letting go and letting his little sisters pull up his boxers after powdering his buttocks, forevermore. What he may not recognize is that there is a natural turn-taking system established among the girls -- not in an effort to avoid the responsibility of helping him, but to ensure that all of us have the opportunity. It's a gift; a profoundly tender, "heart aching with love", "begging for more time" gift to help him, to be with him, to share space and time with him. We stand post, reluctant to leave his side for that very reason. 

Despite the downward inertia of his disease and subsequent decline in strength and energy, he harbors the notion of "just need to's"  to reclaim equilibrium:  I just need to do physical therapy; I just need to rest a little bit; I just need to exercise. As we've learned from the hospice folks, Craig's body is to a point where his heart is working overtime to protect his vital organs. Like hair in a drain, the cancer has overwhelmed his nutritional status -- namely protein -- creating a plugged tub effect in Craig's extremities and belly. This extra fluid burden makes moving around that much more exhausting, that much more onerous a task. He's to a point where performing those "just need to's" won't bring his muscle strength or energy level back to normal as was his wish last week (at least in terms of strength).

When we saw that his fatigue had the winning hand yesterday, we redirected the disappointment to bolstering a "green" mindset -- energy conservation! We suggested he rest up and hit a local hotspot in the evening, instead of run on fumes to Boulder. Flexibility is paramount to Craig, and being flexible is one of our well-worn tools in diverting attention from what he "can't do" to the neat alternatives he "can do".

What better way to spend the evening than the Denver Aquarium. Steve, Emily, the sisters, Dad, and Craig loaded the cars for the short ten minute drive to the aquarium. Mom had an affinity for aquariums and enjoyed a visit to the Tulsa aquarium during the early part of her disease. As we navigated from fish tank to fish tank, from overhead view of sharks to the petting zoo of sting-ray fish, I couldn't help notice the parallels between our outing and Mom's, and couldn't help envision that unforgettable picture with her hands dangled in the water. I wasn't there with Mom but the photos captured a similarly peaceful and unhurried departure from that 'other' reality. From time to time, Craig rose from his wheelchair to gain a closer view and, without warning, launched into brief lectures on how bizarre sea horses are in the world of sea creatures. I remember a time pre-cancer when what he said wasn't always that important to hear. But, each time he found the energy to speak yesterday, we'd huddle around him and dip closer to his mouth in order to hear his frail voice. The many other visitors touring around us seemed like shadows on the wall; they faded into the periphery from our pod of 7. (Except, of course, the inescapable Mr. Tommy Van Talks-A-Lot, who had Jill take a picture of him and the tiger...while talking to the tiger?? or talking to the still photo camera?? Who knows.) And, perhaps at times our pod blocked folks from appreciating the view, but we didn't move until Craig was ready. They could just go knit a sweater until he was, as far as I'm concerned.

Of course no aquarium outing is complete without the thrilling possibility of verbal sparring and a little authentic teacher scolding. As Diane ushered a tired Craig towards the elevator, the rest of us stayed back to "pet" the sting rays. One elementary aged kiddo forgot the two-finger rule and molested a sting-ray with a greedy full hand grab. This wasn't a job for just any of our motley crew of "Mystery Men" superheroes. No, it called for our teacher-hero, Ms. Emily Jensen. Emily sauntered up to the sting-ray ring and closer to the young boy. She watched his move, waiting for an opportunity to gently correct his behavior.  I regretted for a moment not having brought my lounge chair and popcorn. How would it end? The suspense built as each sting-ray passed by, too far from reach from the little boy's hand.  Missed. Another one passed. Missed again. [This is a shout-out to Jill and Diane who, by now, would recognize the drama felt at the "hair-raising" Universal Studio's Jaws exhibit when the lady took aim at Jaws and "missed"  (cue faux shotgun re-load), "missed again". Mom was with us. One of the best times of my life]. But, Emily and the boy (good book title, Emily! So long as you further specify the topic, of course! Otherwise, yikes! ;) ) was turning out to be a close 2^nd. Until, a curly haired Johnny-come-lately finished his coke break and interrupted the drama with a vague "use only two fingers" statement. Where's the scolding? Where's the humiliation? It was as disappointing an ending as the movie "Paranoid Park".

Still, our day at the aquarium, walking beside Craig, and with Mom in a way, stands as one of the best times of my life. ~ E