The world is now one curmudgeon short.

My paw in law Stanley died early this AM after 12 years or so of strokes, heart attacks, decreasing mobility, and nearly a year of lonely long-term care since breaking a hip and not being able to rehab well due to the strokes.

We all said goodbye to him many, many times, and are pleased he was spared another round of medical bullshit-- within days he was scheduled for amputation of a foot (and maybe more). He was in ICU, since about a week ago when they tried to save the foot with vascular surgery.

He'd been aspirating food on and off for years, only able to eat liquid diet of late, and he had developed a lung infection/ congestion. He was NOT pleased to learn that they would henceforth have to feed him via stomach-tube.

When one is already on a DNR it is hard to decide what to allow and what to decline, especially when one is wide awake and somewhat alert. But apparently his internal DNR kicked in, and he snuck off this earth in the early morning hours.

I'm impressed the old coot was able to manage it-- that his innate sumbitch-strength actually gave way fairly graciously to his desire to just SLEEP-- one of his greatest joys after the first stroke caused him an early and never-anticipated retirement!

They say he just quit breathing. In my heart I think it might not have been quite so.... calm-- he WAS a tough old bird from Kentucky ridgerunner stock. But he's managed it!

I'm grateful to have known him, and glad I spent several stints filling in for my maw in law while Stan was being cared for at home, getting to know him better. In his later years he loved to tell stories about his boyhood and the characters who raised him.... to watch the birds outside the screened porch... to hear an Arboretum- full of suburban coyotes howl at night... to grin like a dirty old man, watching people make complete idiots of themselves on junky game shows like "Supermarket Sweep." And he could enjoy a Maidenform commercial like no one else I've ever seen! :~)

It falls to me now to subvert his widow's stated desire to suppress his most-wanted funeral hymn-- Ivory Palaces-- in favor of classy Anglican stuff. I promised him....

The last time I subverted something for him, it was the Fart Machine that Hardi and I snuck into the nursing home. I pushed the button once, after holding up the unit so he could see it, then handed the remote control to him. He loked confused for just one short moment, then with vicious glee pushed the button. It was classic-- Stan sat there huddled in a wheelchair, blanket in lap, masquerading as a sick old man barely aware of the surroundings, peering out from under a snazzy black driving cap-- pushing the button over and over while my maw in law cringed. (She finally got up and went for a walk.) I seldom saw the old man so gleeful as he was that day, sitting in that very swank reception lobby while people going by tried to pretend they were not hearing it! I think they must have thought he was actually farting, cuz he had his back to them all!

Sleep well, Stan.

~Susan