Donald "Bud" Plemitscher 1931 -2001

I got the phone call as I was driving into Indianapolis traffic on Tuesday morning. Bud's nurse said that he was "actively dying," and would probably pass within the hour. He died at 9:46 AM CDT, as I was exiting for the airport.

I had said my goodbye the night before. In his darkened room, as he lay dozing, I whispered to him that I was leaving in the morning; that I would take care of Bill and Carolyn; that it was okay for him to lay down his burden, and there was nothing to worry about.

I am glad he went peacefully, and without the gruesomeness of an artery blowout. Amy said that he went to sleep without regaining full consciousness.

Bill and Carolyn are handling it well, having expected this for a long time. Bill wrote me a sweet note, saying that who could have imagined that the California girl his father met in Maxie's trailer park in Broussard, Louisiana 30 years ago, would be his last visitor as he lay dying.

Here is the obituary I wrote for my father-in-law:

Donald "Bud" Plemitscher
1931-2011

Born in Springfield, IL, the third of four children of George Sr. and Frieda (Kluge) Plemitscher. Served with the First Marine Division in the Korean War, earning 3 battle stars. Upon discharge from the U.S. Marine Corps, he married Elsie Anne Valentine of Greenfield, IL in 1954. They were married for 55 years, until Anne's death in 2009.

Bud worked as an auto mechanic at several dealerships in Greenfield and Jacksonville; at Carnation in the maintenance department; freelance welding and refrigeration work in Central IL; and as a Journeyman Electrician in California, Texas, Florida and Louisiana. Bud and Anne then ran My Place (a food concession trailer) at Illinois fairs and festivals in their "retirement."

Bud survived throat cancer in 1987. People who met him since then will remember that he spoke with a prosthetic larnyx. His cancer returned in 2009, but he continued to enjoy life--playing music, spending time with family and friends, and riding his motor scooter around Jacksonville.

An accomplished musician, Mr. Plemitscher played electric bass and guitar, banjo, and especially accordions, many of which he electrified. He attended Grace Methodist church, was a member of both the VFW and American Legion, and served on many funeral details for fellow veterans.

He is survived by a brother, Robert (Nadine) of Long Beach, CA; a sister, Louise, of Florrissant, MO; his children, Carolyn (Scott Neilson) of Arvada, CO and William (Pamela Sink) of Rogersville, TN; his 3 grandchildren, Juliana and Alex Plemitscher, both of Seattle, WA, and Claire Neilson of Arvada, CO. His oldest brother George Jr, predeceased him.

Donald and Anne's ashes will be interred together at Camp Butler National Cemetery, and a graveside service is planned for a future date.

Rest in peace, Dad. You fought long and hard, and now you are with your beloved Anne.

Now is the hour of our discontent

The furniture is gone, except for 2 mattresses on the floor of each room to sleep on. The boxes and bins and bundles are all staged in a rough layout for the truck bed. I've started to stash small items under the seats and in the door pockets of the truck.

The laptop is sitting on top of a box--I am seated on a pillow in front of it. We eat with paper plates on our laps. I look at every remaining item with an eye to whether it will fit into the plan--or go out to the trash.

I've started gathering cleaning supplies and Kerne has been sweeping and vacuuming. We're eating leftover chicken, leftover pizza, leftover tacos, leftover broccoli. Today, after hauling furniture into the truck, furniture out to the curb (FREE!!), and furniture out to the storage shed at Gail's farm, we splurged and went for celebratory ice cream cones at Dairy Queen, then came home and collapsed into afternoon naps.

Tomorrow, we load the truck!

Light at the end of the tunnel--or is that a train?

I'm starting to see an end to this house-shoveling nonsense. We are reaching the tipping point of living here versus going to a hotel. Complicating matters is the "Fall Festival and Steam Show," in town this weekend, clogging the motels. But I did manage to get a room for our last night here, Monday, September 26.

Tomorrow, Kerne and I will run some errands, do our laundry (we're at critical mass, the time to either hit the laundromat or start turning our respective underwear inside-out), drop off boxes of charitable goods to charities, go to the post office and send boxes of stuff into the hinterlands to far-flung relatives.

We're selling furniture at the rate of about two pieces per day now, and only a few things are left. We need to buy a tarp, and rope and other supplies, and figure out a way to get the scooter up into the truck bed. Then it's just a matter of wedging in the rest of the boxes and furniture that are going to TN. Oh, and the other 4 accordions we found. (We're up to a total of 18 now).

We've been staging everything in the laundry room, which is roughly the size of my truck bed. I just hope it all fits.

Not too long now, and Oz and I can go home to our mountain.

If you write it, they will come...

My email to the extended family about Bud's "anytime-now" prognosis has prompted reaction. I am so glad my sister-in-law Carolyn flew in yesterday. She and I immediately went over to see Dad, who was absolutely thrilled to see her.

Bud's sister-in-law Nadine called. The health of Bud's siblings prevents any of them from seeing their brother. Bob and Nadine live in California and Louise lives in St. Louis. Apparently, Louise "wants her music back," but I have not been able to help her with that--I never found it in all the paper in this house. Even if I had, she has no way to come and get it, and I'm not going back to St. Louis again on this trip.

Today, we are taking Bud's storage stuff out to Gail's, along with his little Focus. Carolyn will drive me back to town in her rental car. Denise is going to teach me how she orders Bud's Ensure from the VA, so I can arrange for them to start sending it to him at the nursing home. I need to check on the status of his application to Quincy Veterans' Home. I need to touch base with Vanessa for what the homeless shelter needs and when they will pick that up.

We made about $400 at the impromptu yard sale on Saturday. The big stuff is still here, and I have listed the remaining major pieces on Craigslist. Someone is coming to look at an amp today.

I have to call Amy the Hospice nurse today to arrange her visit tomorrow in the morning, so she can talk to Carolyn. Carolyn is leaving around 10 am to go back to Denver. I need to get to the bank today too. Bob and Shelley from Indianapolis will be coming on Tuesday afternoon.

Busy, Busy. But I can finally see that there is going to be an end to this project, probably at the end of this week.

My life in Jacksonville, IL -- 30 years later

I am assailed by memory in this town. Everytime I turn around or drive down a street, I think of something in the past. I first came here in 1981, a full 30 years ago, at the end of a long motorcycle trip, and at the beginning of a relationship that would result in marriage, children, and a whole lifetime of memories.

And here I am again, adding on more memories for the future. I am a witness to my father-in-law's final journey, the last step of an 80-year life. Bud and I have always had a "prickly" relationship. His lifestyle and attitudes are so antithetical to what I believe, it's not been easy to forge a friendship with him. But I am here, the adult in the room, so I will get the job done with a clear conscience as my husband's proxy.

Yesterday, the Hospice nurse told me that we are very close to the end. She now knows the "how" of his dying, though not the "when." She is seeing visible signs of arterial degradation. With the cancer in his neck and jaw growing wildly, the inevitible end will come when the carotid arteries break down and rupture. He will bleed out rapidly and expire within 1-2 minutes. The nurse has begun preparing the entire staff with a plan for when this happens. As of last night, he is being given a mild tranquilizer morning and evening. When the rupture occurs, he will quickly get an injection of Versed (a fast-acting sedative), and go to sleep. There will be no pain or panic as he bleeds out.

This is really tough stuff.

In the meantime, there is the accumulation of a lifetime to deal with. Bud moved to this apartment last year. 380 square feet doesn't seem like it would hold much in terms of cubic storage space, but I can tell you that it holds about 100 garbage bags worth of paper. I have come across Christmas cards from the 1960s to the present. Birthday cards, Mother's and Father's Day cards, get-well cards, bank statements for the last 30 years, magazines, news clippings, letters and postcards, and about 2,000 solicitations for charitable donations. Thankfully, Bud didn't respond to any of these. Unhappily, he never threw any of them away. Just when I think I've reached the end of the paper, I find another bag, box or barrel chock-full of more. Last night, I found neatly tied plastic bags under the sink, full of bank statements from the 70s, 80s, and 90s.

I'm going to say this once again: Seniors, please don't do this. My new motto is "If in doubt, throw it out!"

Today is Yard Sale Day. I have decided to flaunt the apartment complex rules and have a yard sale anyway. What can they do? Throw me out? Please.

Last night, I sold the washer and dryer. Today, hopefully the rest will go in bits and pieces at pennies on the dollar. Whatever is left will go to the homeless shelter early next week, into storage, or the dump, later in the week. If I sell the sofa today, Ozzie and I will go to a motel. I'm planning on loading up my truck (I love my new truck!) a week from today, and heading home, back to my real life.

There is still the cleaning of the apartment to be done (which will be easier when the stuff is out), and some details to attend to. Bill's relatives are starting to flock into town for their last goodbyes to Bud. Aunt Millie and Cousin Roger are coming today from Alton; Cousins Shelley and Bob from Indiana are coming Monday or Tuesday. People need connection with each other to process. They'll need to be fed. I am the hostess at this impromptu, lengthy wake.

Selfishly, I hope that Bud departs from this life peacefully and soon. He has fought for so long, and if he continues to fight, he only prolongs his pain and suffering. In his dying, he has shown so much courage--more so than in his living, I dare say. He deserves a serene and swift conclusion.

Shopping for Trucks, Back in the Swamp Zone

I had a nice drive up from Lexington yesterday. I even had time to stop and shop for trucks. At the first dealership, the woman who was helping me was really no help at all. Nothing on the lot fit my needs at the price I wanted to stay under, she hadn't bothered to read my email or do any research or prep for my arrival. Ergo, she really didn't want my business enough.

At the second, I actually drove what I thought I wanted (2011 Suzuki). But then the salesman treated me like an idiot. When I asked about the $2500 cash back, he said they had already accounted for that in their "sale" price (full MSRP minus the cash rebate). Then, he offered me $4,000 less than dealer trade in price for my cars. So let me get this straight--you're charging full price for your car and giving me much less than wholesale for my trades? Is it because I'm a woman, or do you just think I'm stupid? And I really didn't like the truck all that much either.

I took Ozzie out to the Canine Camp. He was not impressed.

When I got to Jacksonville in the early afternoon, I decided I really couldn't fume for the rest of the day. I needed at least one positive experience. I drove a Chevy. It felt like a monster truck and I couldn't really get a handle on where the boundaries of my track were. Then I drove the Dodge Ram--what a difference! It handled like a car, was smooth and easy to drive--sharp and responsive. Even the brakes were acceptable. And an 8 foot bed. But alas, no room for the dog.

I'll keep looking. I went out to the nursing home to see Bud, but he was sleeping. I stopped by the Straders', but they weren't home. On to the apartment, the sad little apartment. I started going through the dresser drawers and the piles of paper.

I found still MORE bags of loose coins. Cash in envelopes, long forgotten. Pictures and scrapbooks and memorabilia went in one box. I overheated the paper shredder with piles of Social Security notices from 2001-2007. I finally collapsed around 10 pm.

Now I'm up and ready to go for coffee. I'm hoping to take Bud out to the park this morning for an outing. Then I will be back, diving into still more paper and the sad remnants of his sad life.

Back to Illinois tomorrow

There are post-it notes and lists everywhere. Cardboard boxes, rolls of paper, tape and markers. I've done the laundry, packed my bag and checked the fridge for things that might rot in my absence. I'll work today, pack the car tomorrow and head back to Illinois for the big job of clearing out and cleaning up Dad's apartment.

I wrote Dad a long letter, letting him know that I wanted to sell his cars. I wanted to give him a few days to get over his initial "NO!" before I got there on Saturday. This is such a delicate dance between telling him what needs to be done, and letting him have some final semblance of dignity in directing his own future.

I got the first bill for the nursing home yesterday, for 9 days in August and 30 in September. More than $6,000. Stunning.

I think I'm over my initial creepiness of going through his stuff, sorting and discarding. I'm ready to get the job done this time. The apartment needs to be empty by September 30, and I want to go in and whip this thing into shape ASAP.

Then I can come home to my mountain and my knit shop, and get back to MY life.