Mendocino Coast Jewish Community

The biopsy plunged us into Chapter Two: The World of Big Medicine: formal diagnosis and treatment plan coming at us like a freight train. There was a period of time when it felt like we were on a conveyor belt feeding Mickey inexorably into many months of painful, debilitating treatment that had a very low likelihood of success. At other times it felt irresponsible to decline even a minute chance of extended life. I felt despair during that time, and I think Mickey did too.

 

Meanwhile, he got immensely sicker, and the pain and nausea became dreadful. Narcotic pain relief has its own challenges, but up the ladder of stronger and stronger medications he went, nothing quite alleviating his symptoms. Mickey listened and deliberated, but fundamentally he was clear: he was not interested in life-prolonging treatment. In fact, he wanted to pursue Aid in Dying, and we began the process which would enable him to procure medication to end his life.

 

Mickey’s beautiful daughter, Shirra, had said that she would show up the minute I needed her. That day came, and I reached her at the end of a vacation in Mexico. She arrived the next day in her beach clothes on a one-way ticket. Shirra’s arrival brought about Chapter Three, where we—with loving help from Dr. Mark Apfel—were able to care for Mick at home, give him the pain relief he needed, hydrate him (once in our yard with an IV saline bag hanging from a gardening fork attached to a ladder), and just be with him every minute. One night about a week later Shirra noticed that Mickey seemed hot to the touch. Mark came over the next morning and told us the infection causing the fever could be treated with antibiotics, but untreated it would carry Mickey to a fairly quick and gentle death. Mickey opted not to treat the infection. After Mark left, we went out in the yard. A friend visited with us all for an hour or so, and then Mickey said he was tired. He went inside and lay down on the couch and quickly slipped into a deep sleep from which he never entirely awoke.

 

The next day I wrote to all of you asking for you to come and offer prayers while Mickey moved toward death. I didn’t even really know what I was asking for. I went outside only briefly, late in the day, but I’ve heard some accounts of what was going on in our yard: of the many, many of you who came, who prayed, meditated, read and chanted, and I don’t know what else. Occasionally, we could hear some soft singing. At one point we heard the music of a harp. It was one of the most powerful experiences of my life, that circle of love and spiritual strength that we could feel every minute from inside the house. It felt like a wall of love, like a fortress, so holding and containing and protecting. I will be grateful for the rest of my life for the circle you all created to hold us. It was exactly what we needed, and you knew exactly what to do.

 

That evening we noticed that Mick looked uncomfortably scrunched into the couch so we moved him to some quilts on the floor. Shirra curled up next to him. I was, as usual, in my red chair, a hand-squeeze away. Shirra and I dozed. At 11:00 PM she woke up and noticed that Mick wasn’t breathing. We both sat up. He took one more breath and that was his last.

 

In the morning we washed him, dressed him in white shrouds, and placed him in the beautiful box his friends had built for him. We put him in the window seat in our bedroom. Shomrim came through the day and the night, creeping in quietly with kind nods to Shirra and me, and sat with him. One shomer told me later that he had read Mickey jokes from The Big Book of Jewish Humor. The gentle presence of the shomrim felt angelic.

 

The next day we buried him. So, so many of you were there, and you came back to our house, day after day, and led beautiful Shiva services every evening and filled our house with food and friendship and love. I was largely numb during the funeral and Shiva, existing somewhere outside my body as the week went on. Our beautiful family was here, and left a few at a time over the ensuing days.

 

Even in the midst of all my enormous sadness I was aware that losing a beloved partner is a very common experience. It has been very helpful, and very tender, for me to talk with some of you who have also lived through the death of long-time spouses.

 

One morning during the Shiva a rabbi friend from back East called and asked me, ”What do you need right now?” Out of my mouth flew the words, “I need God.” “Okay then,” he replied, “Shall we pray? Shall we sing?” We sang a few beautiful songs together over the phone, and I felt my heart settle a bit.

 

In the time since, I’ve mostly needed quiet and rest. It’s not easy these days for me to chat. People have been so very kind, checking in but not imposing. I have received dozens, maybe hundreds, of loving notes, which I read and then put in a box to take out and look at again. Not unlike the day you all prayed outside in the yard, I feel your loving presence holding me.

 

Every evening I have joined the Nechama Minyon, a minyan started by a rabbi a year and some ago after her mother died, when she wanted to say Kaddish every day. It is very simple. A different person leads it every evening in whatever style they prefer. There is always time for healing prayers and for the Mourners’ Kaddish. In a few weeks I have started to feel close to this collection of people I mostly don’t know. Anyone is welcome. It meets at 6:00 PM every night except Friday. Here’s the Zoom info if you’re interested:

 

https://us02web.zoom.us/j/82588965994?pwd=emQ5c2tFeW9LV2Z1Z3Q1UEZkWmdjUT09

Meeting ID: 825 8896 5994

Passcode: 19027