RIP MUCK

Below was Muck’s last Muck’s Minute post on May 31, 2018. You could tell his heart was broken. When his wife of 62 years died, you knew his will to keep fighting his cancer was waning. He hadn’t commented since his last post. I tried emailing him, with no response. His grandson Jake commented this morning that his grandfather had passed. From his dozens of posts and hundreds of comments over the years, it was clear Mike had lived a fascinating and eventful life, full of adventure and self sufficiency.

He embodied what everyone on TBP admires in a man. He loved his wife and his kids and sacrificed his own retirement to help them. He was crotchety and grumpy, like most of the old timers on TBP. I thank him for all his contributions and wisdom bestowed on this website and its readers. He wasn’t big on religion, but I hope he was happily surprised when arriving at the pearly gates. Mike Endres lived a life that we should all emulate. 

All 56 of his articles are archived on the right side of the page for those who want to enjoy the wisdom of our great friend.

A fresh Muck’s Minute – and not a happy one either. In fact, this Muck’s Minute completely flips ‘Ol Muck ass-from-teakettle and a lot of tears have been shed since you last heard from me.

Since my last posting of Muck’s Minute # 55 there have been some miserable changes in my life.

My lovely wife of 62 years died suddenly on February 21 of this year from a heart attack – so damn fast and absolutely nothing could be done about it. She spent 4 days in the local hospital (and I could get zip -squat as far as information from physicians or nurses assigned to her case) and was then advised by the attending nurse to seriously consider palliative care — which in medical language means keeping the patient comfortable and pain free without dealing with the underlying illness or problem. The patient is, in effect dying and with sufficient morphine, the heart will be squeezed slowly until it fails and the patient dies.

So my sweet Annette was quietly transferred by EMT to Cornerstone Hospice near where we live and I spent two days by her side. At about 2 AM on the third day, I was holding her hand and gently stroking it when I felt her pulse flutter, wildly stutter stepping and suddenly stopped and my heart broke.

Since life does not stop with the death of one partner, the one left behind must then try and determine how to: 1) minimize the extreme emotional pain that comes with the loss of a well loved life partner and 2) try to martial your thoughts about what comes next as far as your own life is concerned using a mind that is a total wreck and capable of only incoherent thought.

The thoughts of suicide slide smoothly and ever so temptingly across my mind. I know damn well, that suicide will cause my internal pain to stop – but then what about causing even more pain for others in the family, two daughters, five grandsons and 6 great grand children.

Damn responsibility anyhow.

At what point in life can one make decisions about yourself without having to dwell on possible pain and upset to others?

My youngest daughter is, sadly, showing increasing instability, constantly on the look out for doctors who will dole out hydrocodone to her and in the past few months since her Mother died, is having trouble completing a sentence, and often, what she says really makes very little sense.

I have put my home in Florida up for sale and relocated to Arizona (Cottonwood – at least for now) where my older daughter resides. There were too many clues and reminders in Florida where we had lived for 23 years for me to cope with. Every time I’d turn around, there was something that reminded me of Annette. Moving to AZ has not helped much – but it has given me a modified outlook, new things to learn and hopefully, distract yours truly from 62 years of the best there was in a marriage and relationship.

Annette and I were pretty sure I was the one going to pass first – I mean after all, on my side, I had a stent, then triple bypass followed shortly by leukemia. Seven years of radiation treatment later, the leukemia morphed into lymphoma, got more aggressive and required chemotherapy. Well, not really chemo because my DNA had the right marker on it (CD-21) which allowed the use of monoclonal antibody – kill the bad cells without wiping out the good ones..

Seven more years of remission and back the lymphoma comes. Repeat treatment two. I have a port in my chest and get my Retuxan every 4 – 8 weeks if the blood work and scans I have done indicates the need.

Gee, life can be complex can’t it?

I’ve run off at the keyboard long enough and you know more now about my situation than I expected to broadcast — so it’s time to quit and put my mind on something TBPers would find more enjoyable!

End #56

Author: MuckAbout

Retired Engineer and Scientist (electronic, optics, mechanical) lives in a pleasant retirement community in Central Florida. He is interested in almost everything and comments on most of it. A pragmatic libertarian at heart he welcomes comments on all that he writes. View all posts by MuckAbout