Death Becomes Her

"How do you feel, honey?"

No response.

I squeezed her hand even harder and glanced at my watch........2:30 pm.

"James, maybe she needs more morphine".

I pushed the button on the device that dispensed the pain killer through an I.V. into Brendi's arm. Her face was expressionless. I pushed it a couple extra times for good measure.

Here it was...January 16, 2006. This was our third day at hospice. Marina and I were with her pretty much 24/7 watching as our loved one slipped away. Just the three of us. Except for the occasional doctor and nurse, we didn't allow anyone else to see Brendi. That's what she would have wanted.

I remember thinking to myself that any minute now she would snap out of this. She would open her eyes, sit up, pull all the tubes out of her arms, and say: "I feel great...let's go get a sandwich". Instead, nothing.

By now her breathing had become extremely labored. The nerves in her face would occasionally contort it into unusual expressions. I wondered what the hell was going on inside her head. Could she hear us talking to her, or were these just signs of her body continuing to shut down.

God I felt helpless. Death was not new to me. In the past I had been directly and indirectly responsible for taking it. Almost like God, himself. However, it was different now. This was a loved one. The one time I wished I had a say in whether someone lived or died I was powerless. Now, I was just a spectator in a game I was not qualified to play in. Watch and wait. That's all I could do.

I remember looking at my watch again....2:59 pm. It was a digital. It said exactly 2:59. I looked at Marina sitting across the bed. Poor lady. She had already lost her husband to a blood disorder 6 years earlier, then lost her only other child to a sudden stroke 2 years ago. She would soon be on her own. I, of course, would stay in touch with her. But as far as family went, Brendi was all she had left.

I looked at Brendi's face, then at Marina.

We started talking about something. Maybe it was about nothing. I'm not really sure anymore.

I glanced down as my Casio shifted from 2:59 to 3:00.

Whatever Marina and I were talking about was interrupted by three short, but deep breaths by Brendi. These weren't so much intakes of air as they were a final expulsion of life from our girl. Three and done. Then nothing.....Silence.

I remember leaning over Brendi's face and repeating over and over how proud I was of her and how much I loved her. I caressed her face and ran my fingers through her hair. She was more beautiful now then ever before. Finally, at peace. Marina got up from her chair and joined me. The three of us stayed together for just a few minutes before I hit the button to summon the nurse.


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Now, I'm not exactly sure who "They" are, but "They" say the number "3" carries significant meaning. In my case, we spent THREE days at the hospice, THREE people were in the room when Brendi died, this was the THIRD member of Marina's family to pass away, and the time of death was THREE in the afternoon.

Maybe somehow all these occurrences are tied to the Trinity in the Bible.....you know; the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. I don't know.

All of this is not for me to understand at this time, but something happened in the hospice room that winter afternoon that may eventually bring a perspective to my life like nothing else could have. Yes, I lost Brendi, but I found something much more significant. I firmly believe what I witnessed that day was a sacrifice. One that Brendi had been orchestrating for a long time.

In Through The Out Door

Rectum....

Now there's an odd word. I wonder what genius we can credit with coining this term. More intriguing yet, who can be credited with the slang terms for this part of the body?

Fascinating to ponder such things.

For most people, a horrible and terrifying thought is having this part of the human body (preferably by a doctor) probed, inspected, researched, examined, etc. I, however, prefer to use the expression.....violated. A single day in 1999 will forever etch this year into my mind, as this is exactly what happened to me for the very first time.

"Sgt. Sawyer, you're next. Please come in for your exam."

She seemed like such a nice lady. Captain Lee (name changed to protect her privacy....even though she decimated mine) was a small oriental woman. A doctor in the US Army.

I was at Madigan Army Medical Center in Ft. Lewis, Washington for an army airborne physical....required in order to attend the army's airborne school in Ft. Benning, Georgia. Before the physical, I was informed by members of my unit "in the know" that the physical was simple and routine, testing my ability to move my arms and legs correctly and to jump without pain in the knees and ankles. The doc would also test my heart and lungs to ensure no surprise shut downs while in training, and test my mental capacities to make sure I didn't freak out under extreme conditions. Sounded good to me. I was willing to take the army's money to sit on an exam table and answer some basic questions....maybe even let them draw blood if needed. I was not, however, prepared for what actually happened. Unfortunately for me, I think Captain Lee had had a bad morning prior to my arrival.

For some odd, still unexplained reason, my eyes immediately fixed on a tube of K.Y. Jelly sitting on the counter as I entered the exam room. I remember laughing a little thinking this was a sick joke. Nonetheless, I proceeded to hop up onto the exam table and took off my shirt, as instructed by the good doctor.

The physical started as a simple question and answer session that evolved into the basic exam stuff.....checking my hearing and eye sight, checking my throat ("ahhhhhh"), checking my breathing, banging on my elbows and knees with that goofy rubber mallet for reaction, even checking for hammer toe (not sure why, but she did. Maybe this was a sign of how thorough she intended to be with this so-called simple and routine physical).

Assuming that the session was nearing an end, I lifted myself off the exam table and started putting my shirt back on. Captain Lee informed me that the exam wasn't quite over and that she needed me to remove my "trousers" (unless you're 80 years old, please don't use that term) and bend over the exam table.

"What?".....the only expression I could muster up. Quickly followed by, "Ma'am" seeing as though she was an officer and military custom required it.

As she was preparing her tool of the trade (finger), she repeated herself.

Now here I was.....a tough as nails, 29 year old good looking guy. A tough as nails, 29 year old good looking STRAIGHT guy. "If there is a God in Heaven, please tell me this isn't happening." No response.

As I positioned myself for the inevitable, I was trying my best to relax the soon to be invaded area. Based on common sense, I assumed this would make things a little less debilitating.

Yah, right.

As the procedure started, light suddenly turned to dark. Day turned to night. White turned to black. I think I even heard a pig squealing in the background. A cold sensation quickly hit me, yet I was sweating like a prostitute at the altar.

What the hell is she doing back there? This little, petite lady suddenly had fingers the size of sausages. After a while I thought maybe she had lost something up there and was desperately searching for it.

Finally, I heard her say: "That's it. Sgt. Sawyer the exam is over. Please get dressed." It seemed like hours had passed, but in reality the procedure took seconds.

I wanted to ask her if I needed a Band-aid or perhaps stitches. Instead, I decided to do my best to regain my composure and humility and get the hell out of the area. Never would anybody know about this. Nobody!!!

As I was walking out of the clinic that day with my buddy who was also there for an airborne physical, I asked him what he thought about the exam. I distinctly remember him shrugging his shoulders and indicating that it was "no big deal". I asked him specifically what he thought about the "butt probe".

His response, "What the hell are you talking about?"

He had a different doctor than I did.

It was at this time that it dawned on me that my physical had started before his, but yet there he was waiting for me in the lobby when I walked out of the exam room. His physical wasn't as "thorough" as mine.

I later found out that the requirements for an airborne physical say nothing about inserting a square peg into a round hole. What I got was a more demanding and complete Army Special Forces physical. Something completely different than a "simple and routine" airborne physical.

Captain Lee had misread my orders stating the intent of the physical. Or, maybe she just wanted to see me naked.

The Parallel Universe--Defined (Part 2 of 2)

Stick with me here, this gets rather philosophical......

Everyone has a conscience, a voice inside us that helps direct our life. A conscience is a non-static entity made up of everyday experiences, the end product being a game plan that shapes beliefs, opinions, decisions, and ultimately actions that a person decides to implement for any given situation. The outcome(s) of these actions are filtered back into the whole mechanism, resulting in a conscience that ideally continues to grow and improve.

Those that decide to ignore their inner voice often times are societal failures. They refuse to learn from past mistakes and wrongs. Instead, blame gets passed on to everyone and everything except themselves. Unless drastic changes are made, these individuals find themselves on a slippery slope heading quickly into a lifetime of misery. However, those that pay attention to their inner voice (conscience) grow stronger due to their ability to analyze critical situations from the past. Oftentimes, these types of people get asked by others "how did you know that was going to happen?" Usually followed up with something to the effect of: "you're so smart". These types of people have that "eleventh sense" and are successful in many ways. Most want to emulate them.

Now, allow me to get weird with you....

I have already explained how I believe a conscience is derived from a person's experiences in life. However, I firmly believe that there is another very important ingredient. That ingredient is guidance from beyond. These voices come from those oftentimes referred to as spirits or "Guardian Angels"---in other words, the dead. Now, I'm not here saying that if you're not religious or spiritual you will be doomed to fail, but I do believe that you have to work harder to achieve a state of success as you are shaping your conscience based on experiences in this world. The "living" world.

There it is....laid out for you in the most simplistic way I know possible. "The Parallel Universe" is something that everyone is capable of tapping into. That is accomplished by following your conscience; the "gate" that connects us, the living being, with this unseen dimension. It's up to the individual to do so.

An afterthought....

A person usually doesn't consider spiritual matters as a significant part of their life until something traumatic happens to them. Trauma happens in an undefinable number of ways, but it's usually the genesis for the sudden transformation of a non-believer into a believer.

I was a non-believer until July, 2001.

The Parallel Universe--Defined (Part 1 of 2)

It's amazing how many people have asked me what the intent of this blog is and why it's been called "The Parallel Universe". To those that have inquired, the easy answer is: "Just because". However, there is much more to it than that. Like I have stated before, this is an ongoing project that hopefully will culminate in a moving portrait of my life. Each post will hit upon a time of my life that stood out as extraordinary in that it impacted me in a way that altered my life forever. To those reading this blog, think of each post as a piece of a jigsaw puzzle, taken from a box that doesn't have the completed picture on it.....the final product being unknown until everything is pieced together correctly.

Wikipedia defines parallel universe as a form of alternative reality that is a self-contained separate reality coexisting with our own. Some would say that this "place" actually exists and that it's a matter of finding the right gate to go through to gain entry (think of C.S. Lewis and "The Chronicles of Narnia"). Others, however, are of the opinion that this place is a mental state that usually comes into being when a person is overwhelmed by a severe case of cabin fever-----like Jack Torrance (Jack Nicholson) in Stanley Kubrick's adaptation of "The Shining".



I believe we all have a parallel universe that exists somewhere in between these two extremes.

We all hear voices. Most of us, though, decide not to acknowledge them or tell others for fear of being classified as a nut job. However, it's my contention that these "voices" are real. Somehow, they are being transmitted and our brain acts like a receiver and picks them up. But, as we age and "mature", we believe that this phenomenon can't be occurring. Maybe the old saying that the insane are actually the normal ones and the normal ones are the insane is true. Nonetheless, these "voices", thoughts, ideas, perceptions, and beliefs are coming from somewhere, and that somewhere is what I believe to be The Parallel Universe. We all have one, it's just a matter of whether or not you chose to tap into it.

The Naked Truth

I like being naked. I don't mean walking around outside naked in some Bohemian hippie-like sense; but naked in more of a primitive way, like when I'm inside the house. That being said, being naked inside the house requires a degree of awareness that even a brief jaunt in front of the window may result in neighbors that no longer invite you over to see their new baby.

Growing up in Iowa was akin to growing up in a time 100 years earlier. Yes, we had the modern day conveniences....rotary phones, Naugahyde furniture, shag carpet, etc. but we also had a set of neighbors across the street that were stuck in some sort of "Lord of The Flies" living arrangement. Although the name of the wife escapes me, I remember very well the name of the husband----Glen ("Lenny"). Lenny was a guy who looked like Grizzly Adams. Even though I was only 4-5 years old at the time, I remember thinking this guy was a yeti.......hair everywhere. And lots of it.

Now, one thing Lenny liked to do nightly was to stand in the front window of his house---naked---and scratch himself. I don't think the poor guy new that those outside could see him clear as day doing this behind the drapes he stood behind. (I think what scares me more is the sight his wife must have had from behind him while he did this.) What Lenny thought was an innocent last minute peek outside before going to bed was in fact a nightly event that my family enjoyed participating in....for, you see we too stood behind our drapes looking and laughing at him scratch away.

To my knowledge, nothing was ever said to Lenny about his ritual. Maybe he new that he could be seen by everyone in the neighborhood and just didn't care. Who knows. But one thing I do know as fact is he was never asked to carve the turkey at Thanksgiving.

I digress......

When I'm naked in my house, I do so with all my plantation shutters closed. Not because I'm ashamed of my "man-hood", but because I've seen enough reality shows featuring "nudists" and "exhibitionists" to know that most of those people are just down right creepy and borderline perverted.....and obscene looking. Instead, I wonder what it would look like to the old lady walking her dog in front of my house seeing me standing butt-naked in the kitchen washing my dishes. Actually, she might like that....but, how about the old man out for his morning bowel-loosening walk?

Yep, that's it. Out of respect for the older generation I close my shutters when I walk around my house naked. The last thing I want to do is be the subject of their conversation the next time they get together to play Mah Jong.

The Sabrina Fein Project

What is it with people who choose to go into the t.v. news business? Unless you are the one-in-million who can be picked up by a major player (Fox, CNN, NBC, ABC, ESPN, etc.) it's a lost cause from the beginning. Think about it. Women rarely make it long term in this profession.....as they grow older, the station execs and the viewers lose interest. No amount of plastic surgery or wonder creams can help most of these ladies out. The men involved in this profession, on the other hand, usually become more "distinguished" looking as they grow older and maintain their appeal to all parties involved. Their job "life span" far exceeds that of a woman. I know there are exceptions....Diane Sawyer, Barbara Walters, Leslie Stahl, etc. But they don't even compare to the number of men who grow old sitting in the chair----Tom Brokaw, Dan Rather, Morley Safer, Mike Wallace, Frank Reynolds, Charles Gibson, etc.

I never looked at a "news babe" as "OH MY GOD I HAVE TO HAVE HER!!!!" hot until I saw Inga Hammond doing the local news when I lived in Seattle. This was probably in the mid-to-late '90's. I remember how bummed I was to find out that she left to take a position doing sports for Headline News. Good for her..... a national gig. Bad for me, though, because the station replaced her with some metro-sexual dude. I stopped watching that channel all together out of principal. I think Inga eventually moved on to greener pastures and is now doing a stint with the Golf Channel. I don't care so much any more as age has really taken it's toll on her. Poor thing.

Starting around the year 2000, Fox News became a ratings success. Many would say that was due to the "Fair and Balanced" moniker and corporate philosophy that Rupert Murdoch fostered from its infancy. That may be somewhat true, but I think the stations success is due to something simpler than countering the liberal slant put forth by the other networks----I believe Fox's success lies within its own name----Fox. When is the last time you saw a repulsive lady reporting the news on this channel? Even the women broadcasting on the weekends and late night are far from disgusting looking. Most, if not all, of the women reporting the news for this channel are Fox's. (I haven't used that term to describe the opposite sex in a long, long, time). Furthermore, the age disparity between the female anchors and the males is definitely noticeable. Also, most of the special guests that are female are younger, good looking women. The male special guests are older, more distinguished.....and hideous. That is unless you think Judge Andrew Napolitano and Dr. Isadore Rosenfeld are hot.

Because I have nothing else to do, I've decided to see if a modern day "hot" Inga Hammond exists on the current news broadcasts. I'm not looking national news.....too impersonal. Nope, I'm sticking with the local product. I have searched the local networks morning and night, weekday and weekend. Two finalists made the cut.....Stacey Deffenbaugh from ABC 7 and Sabrina Fein from Fox 4. I toiled over this a long time (not really) but eventually decided that Sabrina Fein took top honors. (Now would be a good time to Google her.) I based my decision on several scrutinizing factors: One, Sabrina works for Fox (I've already described the significance of that above) and two, her last name is Fein which I'm pretty sure is pronounced "fine". A coincidence? I think not. Now, if you're thinking I was paid off in some way by this contestant for this privileged honor, think again. I'm a man of integrity. I've never met nor talked to her. I would like to, but never have.

From here on out, we'll monitor Sabrina's career. Not in a creepy, stalker kind of way, but instead in an impartial, outsiders way. Periodically I'll provide updates as to her status and where abouts. She's real good at what she does (meteorology) and I suspect that she won't be in these parts very long as she'll get offers from other markets in her quest to work her way up the food chain.

Inga Hammond was one of those "one-in-a-million" that made it big. I liked her before she was big time. If my knack for picking these future successes holds true, then Sabrina Fein will be another "one-in-a-million" that I picked while she was still small time. I'm confident that I'll be 2 for 2. That's 100% to you and I.

I'll keep you updated....

It Is Alive!!!!!

A book.....hmmmmm. Now that would be cool. Write a book. Not just any book, though. Nope, why would I write a book about anything other than myself? I'll leave the make-believe to guys that do it well---King, Flynn, Clancy, Cussler, etc. I want a book written about me. And since I can't count on the professionals to do it, maybe I'll just have to do it myself. God only knows that in my 37 years, I have accumulated enough stories and experiences to fill volumes. One problem exists, though......I don't have the patience to sit down and write a book. So much for that idea.

Nope, what I'm going to do instead is hop onto the blog bandwagon. This won't be any old blog, though. I'm taking the blitzkrieg approach----hit you hard, and hit you fast. You know, like how Gary Larson did "The Far Side". One panel, then done. Very effective and not a lot of work invested by the target audience. After all, who is going to sit around and read a 16 page post about my thoughts every couple of days? I'm sure Seinfeld is on.....go do something useful with your time.

By the time this "project" is complete, the readers of this blog will know all they ever wanted to about me. (If that isn't a fascinating thought, I don't know what is.) Now, I'm not going to sit here and tell you what my favorite color is, or who my favorite band is, or what I like to do in my spare time. Who cares!!!! Instead, I'll relive my life through the experiences I've managed to have. Some good, some bad. And along the way, I'll use this blog as the proverbial family dog that you kick when you get home from work.....just to get things off my mind. Yep, by the time this project is done, I'll have my book.

Yesterday, writing this was just some obscure idea. Now, after a little thought (and wine), finally......IT IS ALIVE!!!!!!