MyNexus2U
Member
- Joined
- Mar 9, 2016
- Messages
- 19
- Reason
- PALS
- Diagnosis
- 05/2016
- Country
- US
- State
- Oklahoma
- City
- Tulsa
To those people that know me are well aware that there is no road that I will not take for a good laugh. I have been passing along Chally stories for weeks. I entertain my family and friends on Facebook with little clips from my life and experiences with ALS. There is nothing sacred with me. It is taking me a while to write this because I am playing with my granddaughters ages four and three. I am so lucky because my son and his family live with us. He lost his job in December and were only renting so it was the best for all involved. My wife and I have a large six bedroom farm house that has been in her family for almost a hundred years. His wife and my wife work and he is a stay at home daddy for now. He takes good care of his girls and helps me to. We have some idea of what is coming with me so this is a good situation for us now.
Anyway the girls and I have been playing. The have a retractable dog lease attached to my manual wheel chair and are dragging me all over the house. They are running, yelling, screeching, and screaming. I am amazed just how strong they are. We may have knocked some paint off the door facings in places but that can be fixed later. What a wonderful time that we had and yes they finally tired out or it may have been the snack that was offered instead.
Now back to my neighbor. As with any terrible disease eventually the discussion may turn to final arrangements. This too will happen even with people up in their years. Before I go much further I have to state that I am constantly pranking my wife and kids. They do give as well as take. It was during this discussion of final arrangements that cremation was brought up as an option. I had never really thought about this. I have a advance directive and have left the issue of a PEG and invasive ventilation open as an option at this stage. My oldest granddaughter goes through pop corn by the truck load so it is always bowl of it around somewhere. During this discussion my loving son says "hey mom, when dad is gone do you think that we could get a bunch of pop corn down dads feeding tube?" Now as morbid as that may sound to some I took the bait and ran with it. Back in the day we could buy Jiffy Pop pop corn. Of course that was before microwaves. Could you imagine the reaction of the technician in the crematory when I went off? And to top it off the bad smell of burnt pop corn to boot! My granddaughters call me Poppy so now to the grown ups I go by Jiffy Poppy. When I told my neighbors the story they were laughing so hard that they were crying. Until next time...
Bryan:shock:
Anyway the girls and I have been playing. The have a retractable dog lease attached to my manual wheel chair and are dragging me all over the house. They are running, yelling, screeching, and screaming. I am amazed just how strong they are. We may have knocked some paint off the door facings in places but that can be fixed later. What a wonderful time that we had and yes they finally tired out or it may have been the snack that was offered instead.
Now back to my neighbor. As with any terrible disease eventually the discussion may turn to final arrangements. This too will happen even with people up in their years. Before I go much further I have to state that I am constantly pranking my wife and kids. They do give as well as take. It was during this discussion of final arrangements that cremation was brought up as an option. I had never really thought about this. I have a advance directive and have left the issue of a PEG and invasive ventilation open as an option at this stage. My oldest granddaughter goes through pop corn by the truck load so it is always bowl of it around somewhere. During this discussion my loving son says "hey mom, when dad is gone do you think that we could get a bunch of pop corn down dads feeding tube?" Now as morbid as that may sound to some I took the bait and ran with it. Back in the day we could buy Jiffy Pop pop corn. Of course that was before microwaves. Could you imagine the reaction of the technician in the crematory when I went off? And to top it off the bad smell of burnt pop corn to boot! My granddaughters call me Poppy so now to the grown ups I go by Jiffy Poppy. When I told my neighbors the story they were laughing so hard that they were crying. Until next time...
Bryan:shock: