Posted in N&V

THE EXPERIMENT CONTINUES — READ ME AGAIN!

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THE EXPERIMENT CONTINUES

For the next one or two months the editorial team of The Complement will provide trial posting of VIEWPOINTS, an online resident discussion forum .

For our second VIEWPOINT, we move away from the theme outlined in the following paragraph.  Pratibha Eastwood’s essay War!?  Not Again is extremely personal, and insightfully addresses racism, war and politics.  It is more than we want to handle in the Complement, but not more than we think deserves a forum at RVM.  Comments and contributions solicited.

The intended topics started out as RVM community issues involving residents, Residents Council, and Administration.  These are normally considered taboo – to be ignored because of the potential for divisiveness or disruption.  We believe that a community of adults with undeniable common interests should be able to identify and work toward constructive resolution of issues of community concern.  In the interests of civility and accuracy the discussion is moderated and all contributions subject to editing.

RVMlist discussions and resident input to the editors have suggested a need for this kind of forum.  However this goes well beyond the role envisioned for The Complement, so we will see if the trial can develop an independent identity.

For VIEWPOINTS to continue beyond a trial period, we will need to have:

  • Significant participation in the form of contributed articles or substantive comments;
  • Expressed approval at least comparable in magnitude to expressed disapproval; and
  • At least two individuals willing to serve on an editorial board that provides selection of topics and moderation of discussion.

Comments on either the basic idea of the discussion page or the specific contents of the articles presented may be submitted by either of two pathways:  The Reply forms at the end of each posted article, or by email to myinforvm@gmail.com.  We will periodically summarize and post results; although we prefer signed communications we will honor requests for anonymity when we publish results.

The first topic is transparency in RVM/PRS decision making.  Mark Edy has initiated RVMlist discussions on this topic more than once.  The editors considered his submitted compilation reasonable, respectful, and indicative of as much effort to find answers as could reasonably be expected of an individual resident.  We worked with him to produce a briefer summary of the issues he presented, and have added brief notes from the RVMlist discussion of the freeway off-ramp project, and a brief history of key actions with respect to that project.

Please let us and your fellow residents know your views on this online forum experiment and on the issues raised by Mark Edy’s and Pratibha Eastwood’s essays.

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The Manor Mart is Open!

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ANNOUNCEMENT

The Manor Mart is now open for business on the lower level of the Terrace building, across from the Clinic, where the Pharmacy used to be. It serves RVM residents and employees between 10 am and 3 pm Monday through Friday.  The Manor Mart comes close to being a necessity for some of our residents, and can be a convenience for all of us.  We want it, we need, it and we should support it by using it when we can.

Historical perspective, Questions and Conclusions

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. . . about the I-5 offramp construction project

by Connie Kent

In his broadcast talk to residents on Friday 7 May, Stan Salmonson, RVM Executive Director, offered some background information to help clarify confusion over the freeway offramp construction project at the southbound I5 exit at Barnett. Hoping to gain some historical perspective, I consulted Faye Isaak’s Vision with a View: How Rogue Valley Manor Evolved Through Grace and Gumption, published in 2015.

In his talk, Stan explained that in 1992, RVM bought the properties on Ellendale north of the Annex. According to Isaak’s book, Tom Becker was the Administrator of RVM at that time, serving from 1978-1991 (Isaak 77).

In 1997, he said, RVM submitted a PUD* request to the City of Medford. Co-administrators of RVM at that time were Patricia Kauffman and Brian McLemore (Isaak 78), while Tom Becker had become CEO of Pacific Retirement Services the year after it was formed in 1990 (Isaak 49-50).

Finally, in 2019, Solmonson explained, RVM submitted an update to the PUD, in order to “increase the trip count.” Sarah Lynch was then the Executive Director of RVM, and Brian McLemore was CEO of PRS. Since that time, Sarah Lynch has become vice president of administration for PRS.

According to the Mail Tribune article of 23 April 2021, “. . . obviously (Rogue Valley Manor) is wanting to expand and the reason for this project — it’s part of their mitigation for some of the development that they’re planning on building on their property.” Quoting Sarah Lynch, the article goes on to say, “The Manor has a stake in the project because it owns a property at 1020 Ellendale Dr. That piece of property is up for sale, Lynch said, and is only part of a commercial village, which the Manor is planning to develop.”

Sarah Lynch adds, “The trip cap applies to the entire commercial village, not just that property.”

Communications Advisory Committee minutes of May included this: [Sarah Lynch] explained that RVM’s request to change the zoning of the property it owns on Ellendale – from “10‐unit residential per acre” to “commercial” – brought with it a requirement by Oregon Department of Transportation to increase the trip cap traffic by more than double. She noted that the property, which RVM has on the real estate market, is more valuable if zoned for “commercial.”

Apparently because development of the property on Ellendale would be enhanced by less congested access from the freeway, Oregon Department of Transportation required RVM to pay for the off ramp upgrade.

That’s the historical perspective. Here is what I wonder about. There seems to be a clear pattern in this series of events: the relationship between RVM directors and PRS leadership. Is there any significance to this pattern?

I would like to learn more about how developing property for commercial purposes jibes with RVM’s status as a not-for-profit entity. On the surface, there would seem to be a disconnect. I don’t know enough about how this works.

My tentative conclusion is that since the property value has undoubtedly increased since 1992, RVM will benefit financially from having acquired the property almost 30 years ago. And maybe that sort of transaction is part of what has allowed RVM to continue on a sound fiscal path for the last sixty years. Thus, despite potential inconvenience to RVM residents in terms of traffic congestion on E. Barnett and Ellendale, we, the residents, benefit from living in a community that is financially stable. I realize that this conclusion doesn’t address all my questions. But it’s a start. And I trust that more information will become available. 

* PUD stands for Planned Urban Development, a real estate development that integrates residential and commercial buildings with open spaces in a single project. It can be loosely considered as a planned unit development (PUD), which uses the same acronym and for all intents and purposes is interchangeable (Investopedia).

 

Sources:

Investopedia. https://www.investopedia.com/terms/p/planned_urban_development.asp

Isaak, Faye. Vision with a View: How Rogue Valley Manor Evolved Through Grade and Gumption. 2015.

 

Confusion over Freeway Offramp Construction

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by Connie Kent

A Medford Tribune article, published on April 23, 2021, caused confusion among Manor residents. The article claimed a single-payer construction project was being undertaken to widen Exit 27, the South Medford I5 freeway exit for traffic coming from the north, so that, during peak hours, traffic on the off-ramp won’t build up to the point that it interferes with the fast-paced traffic on the interstate.

The single payer is reportedly RVM. One wonders, naturally, what’s in it for RVM? The article attempts to explain: the project will “mitigate” some of the development planned on the empty lots at 1020 Ellendale Drive (near the two Hilton hotels), which are owned by RVM, and which, according to Sarah Lynch, are to become part of a “commercial village”.

A number of comments were posted on the RVM listserv, expressing everything from puzzlement and concern, to alarm and distrust.

“. . . not enough has been explained.”

“The article in yesterday’s MT brings more questions than answers.”

“This change will increase the traffic onto E.  Barnett.” “ RVM population traffic that tries to make a left turn from Ellendale onto East Barnett. . . already has to wait up to five minutes to make that turn, and very few vehicles can make it through that light on one light cycle.”

“How can RVM develop a ‘Commercial Village’? [It] is a non-profit CCRC and cannot be in the business of selling or providing items for a profit. That is the reason the golf courses are leased to a sub-corporation for profit of PRS as RVM cannot offer golf play for a fee.”

“I am unsure as to the overall benefit to RVM. Possibly I do not have enough information.”

“It is amazing what the RVM Board approves without the residents being aware???”

A skeptic summed it up: “I think the fundamental question is about what it means to live in a retirement community that happens to be operated by a corporation whose primary objective is real estate development.”

Surviving Surviving

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By Joni Johnson

Becoming suddenly single through the loss of a loved one is not an easy thing to navigate. There is, of course, the paperwork, which I understand is quite an adventure.  But in addition, all of a sudden you are faced with a whole new world to maneuver.  Who are my friends?  I used to be a couple.  What am I now?  How do I play?  Where do I eat and with whom? So many questions while at the same time you are grieving for your lost love and the comfort and habits of the past and worried and uncertain about your expectations for the future. . . .

And yet, there are many here on campus who arrived at RVM as a “solitaire”- either because they have always chosen to be single or because they have chosen to remain single after becoming widowed or divorced. In many ways, they have faced the same questions, but without the same pain attached, and I thought it would be interesting to learn how they have managed to enjoy their life as a single person.

In writing this article, I interviewed men and women who had lost their significant other while living at the Manor as well as men and women who had come to RVM content in their single status.  This is what I found.

One thing that made a difference for those who have come as couples is how dependent each one was when they were a twosome.  If the suddenly absent partner had specific jobs in the family like doing the finances or maintaining the household, the suddenly single partner might be required to learn all sorts of new skills. In some of the cases I interviewed,it meant learning how to cook, getting the house ready for the cleaners, how to wash the clothes, learning the computer, taking the dog out, learning how to do the taxes. For some, that meant needing extra help at the beginning. Where once they could rely on someone else, now they had to do it alone. And all these adjustments must take place at exactly the same time one is grieving. It can be overwhelming. Luckily, at the Manor, there is guidance and support if one looks for it. There are people here to help with taxes and computer skills and all sorts of other advice.  It just requires asking for it. People to Contact for Help at RVM

Oddly enough, when I talked with those who have come as “solitaires”, and I asked them what they liked the most about being single, they said it was that they felt empowered to make decisions on their own. They didn’t have to worry about what anyone else thought.  They could go where they wanted, travel where they wanted. They loved being on their own.

In a sense, the biggest issue seems to be establishing a new self-vision. That is hard to describe and is more easily explained in how one navigates the new world that used to be the terrain of “couples”.  All of a sudden, one’s partner for dinner is gone. Going to plays and concerts is now different.  One has to sort of reinvent who one is. And that usually means going way out of one’s comfort zone.  If you were lucky and were a member of a religious group or a bridge group or a dog group or the Hawaii crowd, you were fortunate because some of your work was done for you. Such people were often scooped up and taken care of by a group that they were already a part of. That might mean being invited to lunches or dinners or other events.  However, it often depended on the person him or herself to branch out and invite others to an event which might include a meal or a play or concert.  And that certainly was more difficult.

Some people used the friendship tables to get to know others.  That will be changing in the future since friendship tables may be disappearing.  In the future, when reservations are no longer required, RVM restaurant hosts will be asking guests if they would like to have others join them or if single members would like to join other tables. This might make it easier for those who are alone to dine with others without making arrangements ahead of time.

Another loss for those new to the single life was being alone at night when typically one had someone to talk with and share the day.  That is hard to replace.  It just takes time.  In my discussion with those who have made peace with their loss or who chose to live as a single, it doesn’t seem to be an issue.  Somehow, life just takes over.  It’s when one watches TV or reads or writes.  And if one has something important to discuss, they find someone to call or Skype or Facetime with.  It just doesn’t seem to be a problem any more.

For those who traveled a lot with their spouses, all of a sudden, there are travel groups.  In fact, I know of several people who have found friends they love to travel with through these groups, so that feeling of loneliness just lasted one trip.

What people tell me is that the bottom line to “surviving surviving” is really up to you. There are all sorts of ways to get help with the grieving process.  Counselors like our own Linda Bellinson who provides private sessions and groups, Father Joel (and his soon to be successor), Chaplain Anya and outside counselors and groups are wonderful resources to help newly singles move through grief to the other side.  Friends, especially those who are newly or long-time single, are wonderful resources for activities. My interviewees say,  “Don’t wait for them to invite you.  Invite them! Join activities, especially now that Covid is moving away and we are rejoining the human race again.”

Those who have chosen to be single have the same issues.  Who do I eat with?  Who do I play with?  How do I spend my time?  They solve them the same way.  They ask people out on dates!  They are the masters of their fates.  And that is what they love about being single!  And they say, so will you. Just give it time.

Life’s End Comments

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Comments received regarding “One Life’s End”

(author identifications removed)

Why Share These?

As Daphne and I went through the process described we discovered that there was much more interest than information in the RVM community.  Improving that situation is up to the residents — Death with Dignity and related subjects are “controversial,” and since PRS and RVM are interested in appealing to the broadest possible market, they will not risk being associated with something that might disturb some fraction of the population.

Recognition of the breadth of interest and support is an important step in bringing the information to the interested — and potentially interested.

Bob Buddemeier

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Thank you for writing and sharing this story.  I’m glad Daphne was able to die in the way she chose. Always a smart lady.

 

Thank you for “One Life’s End”.  My wife and I started our new life here at the Manor on xxxx, 2020.  We will be participating in DWD when the time comes.

 

A million thanks for bravely writing the article about Daphne’s departure.  We have been staunch supporters of Death with Dignity since we watched Xxxx use it with such ease and, yes, dignity; but we have since seen so many people shy away from any conversation about the process.  Your article is a huge step forward in letting people know what really happens and how it is not something to be feared or a topic to be avoided.  Again, many thanks.

 

Thank you for sharing such a personal, touching and oddly comforting experience.

 

THANK YOU for your wonderful, thoughtful Essay.  I did not attach a public comment — but I wanted you to know how much I am in agreement with all your ideas/attitudes, (and have been since my 40’s).  I also think it is so helpful that you bring it (possibly) to the attention of the broader RVM community.  When we first moved here 11 years ago, RVM administration types would not engage in ANY discussion of such, even though it was the law of the land — happily, they are gradually coming around….

 

Bob and Joni, thank you for sharing Daphne’s view on life and death.  I’m with you, Daphne, and you’re still with us!

 

I just read your article on Daphne.  So nicely written.  Thank you for sharing that.

 

Your article about Daphne in The Complement was powerful and moving.  Thank you for writing it and sharing it.

 

What a remarkable tribute to a remarkable woman.  You and your wife have given the rest of us a clear-eyed, courageous view of what we all must face.  Death with dignity, indeed.  Thank you,

 

Thanks for your well written piece on Daphne and DWD.  What you wrote resonated with me.  I give you and yours high marks for being better prepared with a support system than Xxxx and I were.

 

Xxxxx and I read the article.  Very well done!!  I cried the first time and I cried the second time. How incredible to be surrounded with so much love and support those final moments!!  Thank you for sharing.

 

Thank you so much for this reassuring and inspiring piece about Daphne and how she (and your family) handled the process/progress of death with dignity.  Death seems (to me) to be something of a 4-letter word here at RVM. No one seems to want to register that it is happening except with a photo in a wall display case when it’s all over.  I needed a role model for when my time comes and I don’t think I could do much better than Daphne.

 

I do wish to thank you for your generosity and openness to write and share.  My mother lived for 15 years with advancing dementia, and I don’t believe she would have appreciated her final years.  I do wish the laws would allow death with dignity not just for terminal patients but for those who do not wish to have a decline of increased dependency and loss of cognition.  Your comment about how we deal with the death of our friends here is mostly upon us.  However, when a precious friend here died last October, I was so gratified that YANA recognized that close friends suffer a deep sense of loss, sending a card and flowers to her friends.  Daphne was special and brave.  As are you.

 

I appreciated so much your piece in the Complement describing Daphne’s journey. In my personal experience, almost never has someone been so open about revealing such intimate details about a loved one’s death. Thank you. Daphne affected my life in special and positive ways, one of them being so open herself.

Big, Borrowed, or Both — May

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Sometimes we come across interesting things that have been produced elsewhere or don’t quite fit in our format.  Why should that stop us?

 

Susan Ball keeps us up to date on RVM-relevant happenings appearing in the external press.  She recently circulated an interesting piece on the position of CCRCs in the rapidly changing retirement industry:  Entry-Fee CCRC Model Seen as Less “Endangered” than Before Pandemic  

 

3550: The online quarterly magazine of the Portland Mirabella (also a PRS CCRC facility), it is an open internet publication.

 

The Mirabella Monthly newsletter of the Seattle Mirabella is available in PDF format by (free) subscription: email jaredcurtis@icloud.com   To download the May issue, Click here

I am Not a Racist, They are!

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by Asifa Kanji

Asifa Kanji

This is an excerpt from Asifa Kanji’s new book, Behind Many Masks, which will be published later this year.

I read the opinion piece by Christian Cooper, Why I have chosen not to aid the investigation of Amy Cooper. It changed my life.

Christian Cooper, an African American, is the Harvard-graduate-birdwatcher who was accused of assault in Central Park, when all he was trying to do was asking the dog walker to leash her dog in the bird sanctuary. He is emphatic that he does not want to participate in Amy Cooper’s (no relation) trial for filing a false police report. Mr. Cooper says that “focusing on charging her, lets white people off the hook from more pressing questions about the more toxic racial bias that she tapped into. . .They can scream for her head while leaving their own prejudices unexamined. They can push for her prosecution and pat themselves on the back for having done something about racism, when they have actually done nothing, and their own Amy Cooper remains only one purse-clutch away in the presence of a black man.”

My conscience prickled as I read Christian Cooper’s letter.

I remember so well when I told my mother that when I grow up I wanted to be white. I was seven. My face burned for hours from the smart smack I received for thinking such a vile thought. As an Indian child growing up in the British Territory of Tanganika, seeing whites act and be treated like royalty, I envied their privilege.

At my elite British boarding school, I tried hard to emulate the whites, their manners, their accents, their dress. I badly wanted to be one of them. I married a white man and moved to America, specifically to Berkeley. I was thrilled, and thrived in America’s egalitarian culture. The color of my skin was irrelevant until the day when. . .

. . . someone slammed their shopping cart into me at Costco. I turned around to see a white middle-aged, bearded man looking me in the eye. “Go home,” he said, and then scurried away.

. . . the immigration officer at O’Hare put me into a tiny windowless room, having taken my passport and luggage, just because I was born in Dar-es-salaam, profiling me, as goodness knows what – a terrorist? An undesirable immigrant who had acquired her green card through illicit means? Who knows?

. . . when I am followed at a department store, like a shoplifter might be.

In those instants, I catch a glimpse of how the world sees me – a skinny brown immigrant woman who cannot be trusted and doesn’t belong.

Once, my father-in-law ranted and railed against the coloreds to me. When I reminded him “I am not exactly white,” he put on his boyish smile and with a tinge of flirty naughtiness, he said, “but you are one of us!” Was that the ultimate compliment, that I was accepted as a white person? If so, why was I so aggrieved, like I had joined the wrong club?

My own father-in-law never took the time to find out who I was and where I came from. I didn’t say anything, because after all he was my father-in-law and quite honestly, I liked him. He was a witty man. But that night, the racial scar on my soul deepened, even though I am guilty of laughing at racist jokes, guilty of feeding into ethnic stereotypes. Christian Cooper is right. I can push Amy Cooper’s prosecution and pat myself on the back for having done something about racism, but even as a brown woman, I still clutch my purse at the sight of a black teenager walking towards me. I have not examined my own prejudices and the sham I have been living all these years.

The more the ugly faces of white privilege bubble up and go viral on Social Media, the more I am emboldened to reclaim my identity, strength and wisdom as a woman of color and as an immigrant. This time of COVID quarantine has been a time of deep self-reflection. I am beginning to be proud of the stories of my ancestors and my unique heritage. I am learning to tell my stories, not because I want sympathy, but just to raise awareness of the daily indignities people of color have to endure.

I tell a friend about the COSTCO episode. Right away I’m sorry I opened my mouth. She’s all over me with hugs and apologies that I really don’t need or want. “I am strong and used to weathering these insults. I want us to have the hard conversation about examining our prejudices,” I try to explain.

“I must be color blind,” she tells me. “I don’t see the color of your skin.”

Does that mean she does not clutch her purse when a black man approaches? Is she even aware of the privileges she has because she is white — all the things she can take for granted? I am not sure. She changes the conversation really fast. I feel as bad as I did as when the white man came up against me, fists clenched, ordering me to “Go Home!”

The core of me understands why Mr. Cooper doesn’t want to participate in Amy’s trial. In itself the trial doesn’t change the toxic racial bias within us; neither does it fix policing and the criminal justice system.

As an American citizen, I owe it to the country that has given me so much and to those who will come after me to do something, but what? What could I have said or done to the white man who ordered me to go home, or my color-blind friend? Am I willing to risk sticking my neck out? I do need help from my friends. Together we can search for ways that allow us to examine our prejudices.

Thank you Christian Cooper for articulating what I have felt and making me “see” systemic racism and hidden prejudices that I had long accepted as the natural order from my upbringing under British colonialism. I’ve spent too much of my life being like them. You have given me courage to be like me — and like you.

 

Editor’s notes: For a transcript of the recent listserv discussion on racism, see https://thecomplement.info/2021/04/03/racism-outrage-and-solidarity/

If you would like to contribute to the discussion, please consider adding your comments below.

One Life’s End

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The Well-Planned Departure

of Daphne Fautin

by Robert Buddemeier

 

Foreword   This story is about how my wife (Daphne Fautin) thwarted the unlovely aspects of a terminal diagnosis by pre-empting with medical aid in dying, and about how she implemented the process.  It’s written in a continuous care retirement facility – Rogue Valley Manor — in which death is ever-present, but rarely addressed other than briefly and euphemistically.  That is understandable, but not necessarily conducive to either pre-mortem preparation or post-mortem closure.

This account is intended to be about Daphne, but there is no way to avoid presenting the process as I saw it, experienced it, and participated in it. I write it partly as catharsis, partly as reflection, and partly as advice/information/instruction for those interested in a possible approach to something that all of us will do.

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Death – Part 1.  Background, attitudes, and approach – When we moved from Kansas to Oregon in 2015, both of us had been strongly conditioned by our observed death experiences.  Daphne’s father committed suicide; his wife had died, he was on dialysis, and was losing his sight.  Her aunt died in a Medicare-accepting nursing home, deaf, blind, and largely immobile. In my case, 3 of my grandparents had died either in pain or after prolonged disability.  Together, Daphne and I experienced my sister’s 2-year process of death from leukemia, which included a failed bone marrow transplant.

An even larger part of our mutual death experience inventory was my mother’s protracted decline and ultimate death from Alzheimer’s Disease. Mom had always insisted that she would not go that way, but would kill herself first – she was a member of the Hemlock Society (and took Daphne to a meeting with her).  She was also positive and independent, and she kept going until the AD outflanked her and took away her executive function before she realized that she needed to act.  In one of those occasional lucid moments that AD patients have, she asked me to kill her. I didn’t.

We also had major health problems of our own before we moved – Daphne had heart and spine issues, and I had a neurological condition that produced symptoms similar to Alzheimer’s.  Before my problem was diagnosed and arrested, I was practicing the procedures of suicide 2 or 3 times a week in hopes of avoiding being ambushed as my mother was.

Given our lack of enchantment with the natural death processes, it’s not surprising that one of the factors in our decision to move to Oregon was the Death with Dignity law (although we thought that I would be the first to use it).  As soon as we arrived I went to the RVM library and asked for information on DWD.  There was none available, so Daphne volunteered to assemble and keep updated a binder of information on the law and the process.  She then followed up by updating and expanding more general information on death, dying, and end of life choices.

The RVM Library compilation on DEATH and preparing for it is contained in a white 3-ring binder on the bottom shelf at the west end of the bookshelves between the reading room and the main library.

In early 2019 Daphne’s primary provider spotted white blood cell anomalies in two successive lab tests.  Hematology said leukemia.  Bone marrow biopsy said a rare, aggressive kind, curable only by bone marrow transplant, if at all.  Daphne said “no, thank you.”  She got two second opinions (no difference) and looked for experimental studies that might enroll her (no luck).  Although she had a 3-5 year prognosis at that point, she sought out a DWD attending (prescribing) physician, and made sure that her oncologist would serve as the consulting physician.

Daphne’s condition remained stable for much of the next two years, during which she continued to read about death and dying, and to prepare for her own.  Part of that preparation was familiarization with End of Life Choices Oregon, represented at RVM by Jan Rowe.

End of Life Choices Oregon (EOLCOR — https://eolcoregon.org/) is a volunteer organization that provides information, advice and support to Oregonians facing end-of-life decisions, including assistance in navigating the DWD process.  Jan Rowe (541-857-6131; jurowe96@gmail.com) is the EOLCOR representative on the RVM campus.  It’s an outstanding organization; use it and support it.

 

In the Fall of 2020 Daphne’s blood cell counts started rising, and she began taking a drug that suppressed cell formation.  In spite of blood abnormality, she remained active, and experienced no pain or disability.  However, by the end of the year, cell counts had started rising again, and it appeared that the first drug was losing effectiveness.

The oncologist recommended going to the next phase of drug therapy, which until recently had only been available by infusion.  Daphne asked how long she would have if she didn’t go on the new therapy.  Six months, the oncologist said.  He also said that she would be very likely to “stroke out” – to die from a stroke, or a series of them.  After reflection, she declined the treatment, asked the oncologist for certification of the 6 month prognosis and re-contacted the prescribing physician. By this time she was experiencing occasional fatigue, but still no pain or significant disability

She also applied for hospice admission – a recommendation made by EOLCOR – and was accepted into the Asante program.  Hospice provides medical and personal support to the patient and family with a team of nurses and social workers – and also handles death certification, so you don’t have to have an ambulance and a fire engine visit the house.  In addition to regular visits and contacts, Daphne was provided with both pain-relief and anti-anxiety medications, and the social worker spent time with both of us going over the post-mortem actions that would be required.

Within two weeks of Daphne’s decision, a bottle of the lethal prescription arrived from a compounding pharmacy in the Portland area. According to the statistics, a substantial number of people who get the prescription die without taking it – apparently, the knowledge that they possess the means of choice and control provides what they need to go through the unaided dying process.  Daphne kept it with her when we made a trip to Corvallis for a “beforehand” visit with her brother and sister.

Let’s jump back up a couple of paragraphs to engage with the social and community aspects of dying.  From the time of her initial diagnosis, Daphne made no secret of her condition. Both of us tended to be fairly open about such things, so most people who knew us well (and some who didn’t) were aware both that she had a terminal disease and that she planned to use DWD.

As she entered the final phase, she worked to set a date, as well as to continue and complete her preparations.  She wanted to be sure to exit early enough to minimize the risk of a stroke that might compromise her ability to act independently, and I think it was also important to her that she leave as she wanted to be remembered.  March 12 turned out to be a time when both her brother and her sister could join us, so that became Death-Day, the target of Daphne’s information campaign.  Her volunteer activities, book groups, anyone that might expect or depend on Daphne, were notified of D-Day (When invited to an event on March 14, she replied “I can’t; I’ll be dead then.”).

Reactions?  A few people (with successful treatment experiences) urged her to reconsider.  A few more suggested that she wait until she wasn’t doing as well – but I think the image of that stroke loomed large in her mind.  In any event, most people, including those who initially urged some other action, treated her decision with regretful acceptance.  As the word spread, community support grew, and with it, the gratitude that we felt for such positive responses.  Notes, flowers, letters, food – all so much more meaningful while the recipient is able to appreciate them.

 

Death – Part 2.     The end game — 2 weeks before D-day.  The support team is in place; hospice people, Jan and a second person from EOLCOR, friends in general and specific subsets. Fr Joel is checking in, Rabbi David is organizing a virtual vigil at Havurah Shir Hadash to coincide with Daphne’s departure.

I tend to think of the physical and mental approach to death as a process of deceleration. My grandmother went oh so very slowly from ambulatory to rocking chair to wheelchair to hospital bed to cemetery plot. Daphne never slowed – she walked and recorded distance in her walking log.  She read and recorded books in her reading log.  She worked hard at resolving issues, making arrangements and notifying people.  She attended meetings and participated up to the end.  And she took her prescription meds and supplements up to her next-to-the-last day.

As the time approached, Daphne acknowledged feeling some anxiety, and took the medication provided by hospice.  It worked, and took the edge off of her tension.  In the last 2-3 days she went on a regular regimen of the Lorazapam and remained generally calm and composed.

    left to right, Daphne, Charlie, Donna

On Wednesday (March 10), Daphne had her hair cut (and got another stamp on her frequent-haircut bonus card).  Brother Charlie, sister Donna and sister-in-law Susan arrived.  Charlie is an RN, MPH health professional, and provided welcome expertise to the rest of us throughout the buildup as well as the event. After a brief period of awkwardness, we settled into a routine of take-out food and pleasurable reminiscing, through the rest of Wednesday and Thursday

Friday, March 12.  Daphne gets up early, takes her anti-anxiety pill (and I think for the first time does not take her vitamins), does the usual catwork, and settles down to do the newspaper puzzles.  We shower, dress, get set up – towels on the couch; she is worried about losing control even though the experts say it’s unlikely.  I make her a cup of tea and she goes back to the puzzles until family arrives.  Then she takes the advance meds – anti-nausea and sedative.  Jan’s co-worker arrives, and I ask her whether it’s better to mix the lethal powder and the apple juice by shaking or whisking.  Whisk, she says.  I mix the potion while Charlie prepares to give Daphne mango sorbet to quench the bitter taste of the prescription.

The Rabbi arrives, as does Jan.  Reb David knows that none of us are conventionally religious.  He reads some poems; we do the last in unison.  Then he asks us all to say something to Daphne – of gratitude, love, blessing.  It is so very hard.  Then he asks her to say the Sh’ma —  the appropriate (Hebrew) last words for a Jew. She does so calmly, and picks up the cup. Jan asks “Daphne, do you know what will happen if you drink that?”  “Yes,” she answers “I’ll die.”  And she drinks it.

Susan gives her two spoonfuls of sorbet to take away the bitter taste of the medicine.  She leans against me and I start massaging her scalp – something she always liked. She asks for another spoonful of sorbet, and then drifts off at about 10:15. I take her glasses off and hand them to the Rabbi.  We wait, talk a little, and the Rabbi plays on his phone some of the vigil that is being held at the synagogue.  It’s on Zoom, so people are participating from all over – my daughter in Australia got up at 4 a.m. to be there.  I have yet to watch the video, but people tell me it was beautiful.  After a little longer we recline her on the couch, well-padded with pillows.

Her breathing is audible, but she remains completely motionless.  Time goes on.  It’s clear that Daphne is not going to give up quickly, no matter what her intentions were.  We excuse the Rabbi and the EOLCOR team – there are enough of us to keep each other company, and Charlie has any medical knowledge that might be needed.  I take off Daphne’s earrings – little anemones, hand crafted by a fellow marine biologist to look like the one we discovered in Papua New Guinea that she named Anthopleura buddemeieri when she published the description.  Without any conscious organization, we take turns sitting close to Daphne, at her side or by her head.

The hospice nurse calls just before shift change time, and suggests that since Daphne is taking longer to die than is typical, we might want to put another towel under her.  We do that, and the movement seems to trigger some sort of internal reset.  Her breathing shifts from slow and shallow to rapid and shallow – and at 5:15 it stops.  Charlie checks for the pulse that we know is not there.

We cry, text the Rabbi, and call Jan and the hospice (which notifies the mortuary), and then wait, with the now-silent body on the couch.  I take off her wedding ring – it’s tight over the knuckle, and Susan applies some liquid soap.

Post-mortem, pre-mortuary.  “Do you want to spend some time alone with her?”  No.  The meaningful time has all been spent.  That poor dead thing is not Daphne – life was her definition, and vice versa.  I had been afraid that the departure of the body would be wrenching.  It isn’t. It is a relief to see her remains start the journey through fire and back into water – however after-the-fact, a re-experiencing of energy and motion, ultimately leading to a place where life abounds.

Loss, seasoned with relief. Everybody drained.  Light the candle, lift the wine glasses, have a snack, collapse.

Next day, we start through her list of who should have what.  Daphne was the family packrat, well-organized and dedicated.  In addition to all of the artifacts out in the open, there are about 8 trunks of written material, photos, records, and memorabilia dating back to the 1950s.  Much of it had come from overseas to begin with, and had been maintained through many moves.  There were many exclamations of recognition and discovery as things that I had always thought of as “Daphne stuff” turned into heirlooms or treasured mementos before my eyes.

On Sunday, two cars-full depart; Charlie will come back with a rented van later to pick up the trunks and a few pieces of furniture.  And there will be plenty left to remind me of Daphne.

 

Note: A website has been set up for people who would like to know more about Daphne, since there is nobody familiar with all of her diverse experiences and accomplishments:  https://thecomplement.info/daphne

To download a pdf of this article, Click Here

 

Moving the Gardens:

/in

Judy and Damon Simpson

Saw it All

by Joni Johnson

Damon and Judy Simpson

Damon and Judy Simpson moved into their cottage right above the old garden which is now the Memory Center. A year later, they took on the job of Garden Coordinators thinking they could look down on the venue from their living room and patio.  Wrong.  A year later, Greg Tuman and his crew began the slow and arduous task of moving the entire garden from its flat 50 or so beds to the three-tiered 107 bed location it occupies today just below RV parking. In fact, the three-tier design was Greg’s idea. First they had to move the two tool sheds and the gazebo.  The tool sheds were moved to the bottom and middle level and then a new larger one was built at the top level which includes a bathroom (something which I am sure makes everyone very happy).

Because the move originally meant more available gardens than gardeners, the decision about who would get what garden was based on a first-come first-serve basis with a few basic rules needing to be observed.  For example, Raspberries and other berries with the exception of Blueberries are quite invasive so they were not allowed in the upper level. Trees were also moved to the lower level as were grapes.   Other than that, people got to choose their spot.

As the pandemic hit, gardening became a much more popular pastime and now there is actually a waiting list for available garden plots.  Gardening was a place you could see friends, have something to do and something to get passionate about.  It’s the green version of cats and dogs.  Something to love.

Being Garden Coordinators has its joys and tribulations.  Of course, one of its great joys is the chance to get to know so many avid gardeners.  Damon and Judy don’t see themselves as master gardeners. They don’t see their role as advice givers but more as making life in the garden work more smoothly.  They say that oddly enough, the old gardens were much messier than the new ones and that people are now much better at keeping their beds cleaned.  The only big issue is WEEDS.  Most people are good about weeding, but sometimes, they have to be reminded to keep their gardens from encroaching on others.

A big part of the job besides getting to know everyone and dealing with individual issues as they come up, is ordering fertilizer and maintaining a good computerized system of who has which plot, keeping track of the assigned cubby holes, what needs to be done when, etc.  People in the gardens are wonderfully supportive of one another. Sometimes people fall ill and can’t take care of their gardens and people try to help. But there does come a time when we have to help them decide if it is time to let others take over their spot.

As Judy and Damon put it, “We loved our six years on the job but we are excited to let Mike and Vicki Rugg take over.  We look forward to seeing where they will take the gardens during their time as Garden Supervisors.  It’s always nice to have new ideas and new directions.”