Latest on Brandy

SUQKRT wrote:

In article . net, Tanada
wrote:



CatNipped wrote:


No problem Tweed, it takes a while to get all us characters here straight
(we tend to be equally weird, which is what makes this group so nice

to be

part of).



I'm not weird, I'm extremely strange.



Unique is a good word.
Suz
Macmoosette


My cats are very good at niquing up on their prey...

Pam S.

wrote:


I'm not trying to claim any of this is rational, by the way. And I've
talked to people who have been sick, and they've said that there's nothing
they'd love more than to think about someone *else's* problems, to take
their mind off their own. Or just to have a normal conversation with
someone, where everything doesn't revolve around their illness. When a
friend or relative stops asking for what they need because the think the
sick person can't cope with that, it feels patronizing. I think it makes
the most sense to let a sick or disabled person tell *you* what their
needs and limits are, and otherwise, assume that they are capable people.
Obviously, it's important to respect people's limits, but don't give them
limits before they tell you what they are!



We understand the helpless feeling of the friends and family. It's the
staring by "strangers" or those coming up to me and talking to me like
Rob isn't there that really get my goat.

With Rob, the more you treat him like he's human, the happier one is.
It's one of the things he was so impressed with the cat group members we
met on the road. Everyone treated him normally, Christine even let him
debate with her son (who's very smart BTW), and even teased him. He
felt more relaxed with our cat friends than he did with a lot of his
long time friends and co-workers from the military.

Pam S.

wrote:


I'm not trying to claim any of this is rational, by the way. And I've
talked to people who have been sick, and they've said that there's nothing
they'd love more than to think about someone *else's* problems, to take
their mind off their own. Or just to have a normal conversation with
someone, where everything doesn't revolve around their illness. When a
friend or relative stops asking for what they need because the think the
sick person can't cope with that, it feels patronizing. I think it makes
the most sense to let a sick or disabled person tell *you* what their
needs and limits are, and otherwise, assume that they are capable people.
Obviously, it's important to respect people's limits, but don't give them
limits before they tell you what they are!



We understand the helpless feeling of the friends and family. It's the
staring by "strangers" or those coming up to me and talking to me like
Rob isn't there that really get my goat.

With Rob, the more you treat him like he's human, the happier one is.
It's one of the things he was so impressed with the cat group members we
met on the road. Everyone treated him normally, Christine even let him
debate with her son (who's very smart BTW), and even teased him. He
felt more relaxed with our cat friends than he did with a lot of his
long time friends and co-workers from the military.

Pam S.

wrote:


I'm not trying to claim any of this is rational, by the way. And I've
talked to people who have been sick, and they've said that there's nothing
they'd love more than to think about someone *else's* problems, to take
their mind off their own. Or just to have a normal conversation with
someone, where everything doesn't revolve around their illness. When a
friend or relative stops asking for what they need because the think the
sick person can't cope with that, it feels patronizing. I think it makes
the most sense to let a sick or disabled person tell *you* what their
needs and limits are, and otherwise, assume that they are capable people.
Obviously, it's important to respect people's limits, but don't give them
limits before they tell you what they are!



We understand the helpless feeling of the friends and family. It's the
staring by "strangers" or those coming up to me and talking to me like
Rob isn't there that really get my goat.

With Rob, the more you treat him like he's human, the happier one is.
It's one of the things he was so impressed with the cat group members we
met on the road. Everyone treated him normally, Christine even let him
debate with her son (who's very smart BTW), and even teased him. He
felt more relaxed with our cat friends than he did with a lot of his
long time friends and co-workers from the military.

Pam S.

wrote:


Oy - they were telling you how to *feel*??

Somebody always has an agenda. If you're calm, someone will think you're
unemotional. If you're upset, someone else will say you're hysterical
and can't be trusted to make important decisions. Sounds like your
response was quite reasonable to me, and probably a big relief to your
mother, who was no doubt dreading a bad reaction from you.


Some of our relatives had a fit because I was "too calm" about Rob being
sent to Desert Shield/Storm I. I guess I was supposed to have
hysterics, scream, throw a hissy fit, and go to Saudi Arabia to get him
out. Now they think I'm "too calm" about Rob's cancer. These are some
of the same people that treat us like we're poisonous. Sigh.

Pam S. who's really glad to be across the country from the family at
times.

wrote:


Oy - they were telling you how to *feel*??

Somebody always has an agenda. If you're calm, someone will think you're
unemotional. If you're upset, someone else will say you're hysterical
and can't be trusted to make important decisions. Sounds like your
response was quite reasonable to me, and probably a big relief to your
mother, who was no doubt dreading a bad reaction from you.


Some of our relatives had a fit because I was "too calm" about Rob being
sent to Desert Shield/Storm I. I guess I was supposed to have
hysterics, scream, throw a hissy fit, and go to Saudi Arabia to get him
out. Now they think I'm "too calm" about Rob's cancer. These are some
of the same people that treat us like we're poisonous. Sigh.

Pam S. who's really glad to be across the country from the family at
times.

wrote:


Oy - they were telling you how to *feel*??

Somebody always has an agenda. If you're calm, someone will think you're
unemotional. If you're upset, someone else will say you're hysterical
and can't be trusted to make important decisions. Sounds like your
response was quite reasonable to me, and probably a big relief to your
mother, who was no doubt dreading a bad reaction from you.


Some of our relatives had a fit because I was "too calm" about Rob being
sent to Desert Shield/Storm I. I guess I was supposed to have
hysterics, scream, throw a hissy fit, and go to Saudi Arabia to get him
out. Now they think I'm "too calm" about Rob's cancer. These are some
of the same people that treat us like we're poisonous. Sigh.

Pam S. who's really glad to be across the country from the family at
times.

In article ,
wrote:

Howard Berkowitz wrote:

Relatives that had been present took me to task for being
"unemotional"
and dealing with her "like a normal person." While I had no illusions
of cure at this point, I also upset them because I didn't want to wail
about the (non-imminent) end.

Oy - they were telling you how to *feel*??

Somebody always has an agenda. If you're calm, someone will think you're
unemotional. If you're upset, someone else will say you're hysterical
and can't be trusted to make important decisions. Sounds like your
response was quite reasonable to me, and probably a big relief to your
mother, who was no doubt dreading a bad reaction from you.

You really had to know my Aunt Shirley, the leader of the pack. Think
Archie Bunker, with a thicker mustache and less empathy. Shirley met
wonderfully that definition of a zealot as "one who would be happy to
explain to an omniscient deity what the deity's correct actions should
have been had it been in possession of all the facts."

One of the great missed opportunties of my life was at my first wedding.
Shirley had come with containers in her purse, and merrily raided the
banquet table, filling them. My regret, on seeing this, is that I didn't
give in to my urge to help her by pouring a quart of salad dressing into
her purse.


Sort of appropriately for this group, I did have to face some
decisions
on how aggressive to be with certain treatments. It's a different
situation with an at least partially competent human than even the
most
closely bonded cat.

And this was all before those issues (about how much to tell a patient,
when to "pull the plug", and so on) were even discussed in our society.
Since that time there have been books, news stories, films, tv shows,
etc, addressing this issue, so that there's some kind of framework from
which to think about it. Not that it's any easier emotionally when you're
faced with it, but at least people have a chance to consider the issue
hypothetically, because it's no longer a taboo subject. You had to chart
those waters pretty much on your own, while under a lot of stress.

At the time, there really were two separate areas of discussion. You
are quite right that the general culture did not inform laymen in
families about these issues.

These had long been discussed among medical personnel, and that was my
relationship with the staff. They told me they had not discussed options
with my mother, but quite explicitly asked me if they should just stay
quiet, not push the issues of the IVs to her, and let her die peacefully
of hypercalcemia.

I was in limbo. Today, the attending physician would probably discuss it
with the patient, if the patient was at least somewhat aware -- and
would have kept the patient informed. In other ethical Western cultures
today (e.g., Italy), or in years past, the issue of discussing it with
the patient would not have come up -- it would have been presented to
the next of kin, or decided unilaterally by the treatment team.

In article ,
wrote:

Howard Berkowitz wrote:

Relatives that had been present took me to task for being
"unemotional"
and dealing with her "like a normal person." While I had no illusions
of cure at this point, I also upset them because I didn't want to wail
about the (non-imminent) end.

Oy - they were telling you how to *feel*??

Somebody always has an agenda. If you're calm, someone will think you're
unemotional. If you're upset, someone else will say you're hysterical
and can't be trusted to make important decisions. Sounds like your
response was quite reasonable to me, and probably a big relief to your
mother, who was no doubt dreading a bad reaction from you.

You really had to know my Aunt Shirley, the leader of the pack. Think
Archie Bunker, with a thicker mustache and less empathy. Shirley met
wonderfully that definition of a zealot as "one who would be happy to
explain to an omniscient deity what the deity's correct actions should
have been had it been in possession of all the facts."

One of the great missed opportunties of my life was at my first wedding.
Shirley had come with containers in her purse, and merrily raided the
banquet table, filling them. My regret, on seeing this, is that I didn't
give in to my urge to help her by pouring a quart of salad dressing into
her purse.


Sort of appropriately for this group, I did have to face some
decisions
on how aggressive to be with certain treatments. It's a different
situation with an at least partially competent human than even the
most
closely bonded cat.

And this was all before those issues (about how much to tell a patient,
when to "pull the plug", and so on) were even discussed in our society.
Since that time there have been books, news stories, films, tv shows,
etc, addressing this issue, so that there's some kind of framework from
which to think about it. Not that it's any easier emotionally when you're
faced with it, but at least people have a chance to consider the issue
hypothetically, because it's no longer a taboo subject. You had to chart
those waters pretty much on your own, while under a lot of stress.

At the time, there really were two separate areas of discussion. You
are quite right that the general culture did not inform laymen in
families about these issues.

These had long been discussed among medical personnel, and that was my
relationship with the staff. They told me they had not discussed options
with my mother, but quite explicitly asked me if they should just stay
quiet, not push the issues of the IVs to her, and let her die peacefully
of hypercalcemia.

I was in limbo. Today, the attending physician would probably discuss it
with the patient, if the patient was at least somewhat aware -- and
would have kept the patient informed. In other ethical Western cultures
today (e.g., Italy), or in years past, the issue of discussing it with
the patient would not have come up -- it would have been presented to
the next of kin, or decided unilaterally by the treatment team.

In article ,
wrote:

Howard Berkowitz wrote:

Relatives that had been present took me to task for being
"unemotional"
and dealing with her "like a normal person." While I had no illusions
of cure at this point, I also upset them because I didn't want to wail
about the (non-imminent) end.

Oy - they were telling you how to *feel*??

Somebody always has an agenda. If you're calm, someone will think you're
unemotional. If you're upset, someone else will say you're hysterical
and can't be trusted to make important decisions. Sounds like your
response was quite reasonable to me, and probably a big relief to your
mother, who was no doubt dreading a bad reaction from you.

You really had to know my Aunt Shirley, the leader of the pack. Think
Archie Bunker, with a thicker mustache and less empathy. Shirley met
wonderfully that definition of a zealot as "one who would be happy to
explain to an omniscient deity what the deity's correct actions should
have been had it been in possession of all the facts."

One of the great missed opportunties of my life was at my first wedding.
Shirley had come with containers in her purse, and merrily raided the
banquet table, filling them. My regret, on seeing this, is that I didn't
give in to my urge to help her by pouring a quart of salad dressing into
her purse.


Sort of appropriately for this group, I did have to face some
decisions
on how aggressive to be with certain treatments. It's a different
situation with an at least partially competent human than even the
most
closely bonded cat.

And this was all before those issues (about how much to tell a patient,
when to "pull the plug", and so on) were even discussed in our society.
Since that time there have been books, news stories, films, tv shows,
etc, addressing this issue, so that there's some kind of framework from
which to think about it. Not that it's any easier emotionally when you're
faced with it, but at least people have a chance to consider the issue
hypothetically, because it's no longer a taboo subject. You had to chart
those waters pretty much on your own, while under a lot of stress.

At the time, there really were two separate areas of discussion. You
are quite right that the general culture did not inform laymen in
families about these issues.

These had long been discussed among medical personnel, and that was my
relationship with the staff. They told me they had not discussed options
with my mother, but quite explicitly asked me if they should just stay
quiet, not push the issues of the IVs to her, and let her die peacefully
of hypercalcemia.

I was in limbo. Today, the attending physician would probably discuss it
with the patient, if the patient was at least somewhat aware -- and
would have kept the patient informed. In other ethical Western cultures
today (e.g., Italy), or in years past, the issue of discussing it with
the patient would not have come up -- it would have been presented to
the next of kin, or decided unilaterally by the treatment team.