Good night, Irene: A death in the family

The following note is the last one sent by my cousin Tracy, who has been updating friends and family about her mom's battles with getting a new heart.

She got the heart this past fall, after being on a wait list for about a year. Things seemed to be going well, but took a turn for the worst after Christmas.

She died over the weekend.

Here is the note:

Always as I prepared myself to send an "Irene" update to family and friends, I would come before my computer and allow myself to share the daily experiences I had with Ma.  I would, to the best of my ability, try to convey appropriately what she was facing, what was being done for her with medicine, and even share small personal things about her and our family. 
 
This past Thursday evening, we had received some discouraging news about her legs due to the lack of circulation as a result of the pressor medications she was on.  Obviously, things weren't looking ideal for a healthy recovery.  Several times I had thought about sharing this news, but I couldn't embrace what was happening.  Maybe I was thinking things would turn around -- as they often have.
 
Friday morning came and we had a family conference with the heart failure team.  They gave us encouragement based on labwork and adding some new things to her treatment.  For a short while, maybe some of us were optimistic, but our optimism was short lived because Ma was ceasing to communicate and her responses to us were weak if at all.  Her pulse gradually slowed during the day. 
 
Shortly after midnight on Saturday morning, Irene coded, but with the support of medical personnel was brought back.  With a blood pressure and pulse, we met again as a family more realistic and talked about our options. 
 
Just after 8:30 a.m. this morning, surrounded by her family -- Irene left us.  She was without pain and at peace.  She clearly waged the most ultimate of battles to fight, to live, to be with my Dad and us... her children.  It seems; however, the Lord had another plan. 
 
As I struggle to understand her great suffering these last couple of months since transplant, I am also comforted by the fact that her rewards will be great for all of eternity.  Oh, how lucky Heaven is today.
 
I had never really thought that her story would end this way.  We have been given SO much and she had fought back from so much, I became too comfortable expecting miracles.  But her tale of strength and will is a beautiful story -- a profound legacy. 
 
As far as her cruising along hoping to gain altitude, I think this is what may have happened.  Sweet Irene charged the cockpit door and took over the controls.  She pulled that plane straight up and has disappeared into the heavens leaving her spirit indelibly marked in our hearts. 
 
Our deep gratitude for ALL the thoughts, sentiments and prayers for this one-of-a-kind woman.  She was and always will be THE most amazing woman I know.  It has been my privilege and honor to love her, care for her, share her story... and be called her daughter. 
 
Irene Bernardi Danahey
September 24, 1939 - January 26, 2008
 
With deep love and regards,
 
Tracy

My life as a commuter - the first 640 miles

I am pretty sure Al Gore wouldn't approve of my current lifestyle. Yes, I am a real gas-hole, and, I sort of enjoy it.

I'm working downtown for three months and because of how inadequate public transportation is, I drive about 40 miles a day back and forth to work. I could take the train, if I wanted to leave my house at 7:30 for a shift that starts at 10, then hope I get out of the office around 6 which still wouldn't get me back out here until after 7 and back in my place around 7:30. All big ifs.

So I drive, and to be honest, I don't really mind. It's oddly meditative, if you can meditate while moving through traffic and braking for traffic jams. But I can catch up on the news on the radio or listen to music. I pass the offices of a couple friends along the route, to which I wave. I make cell calls until I get to the Chicago border, of course, because I am a strict law-abiding citizen. On the way home I have an hour or so to collect my thoughts and gather my mental notes from a day at work.

And work is an unusual and not exactly happy place these days. Friday they announced there will be staff cuts, and 40 people will be out of work in about a month.

Yeah, being a writer is not a valued commodity. Why should anyone want to pay us for stuff they can get for free from bloggers, or write themselves or get from the Daily Show? Anyone can write these days, right? Every man a journalist.

And if you are leaving your home at 6 and getting home at 6, who has time to read anymore anyway? Which reminds: Why the hell do most of us have to go into an office anymore, anyway? We all are electronically tied to an office anyway, so what difference does it make most days if we put on pants or not?

So all I can do is enjoy the experience of working in a big city in the Merchandise Mart, where I head to the food court everyday (at least with the weather being cold) if just to people watch. I haven't been in any of the shops yet but am intrigued by A&G Clothing, with its "3 For $350" suits and $48 Chicago Bears jacket, and by the Kohler store with its designer bathroom fixtures.

I have a yuppie-ish buddy in the burbs who put in French Doors because an in-law gets his family a 25-foot tall Christmas tree every year - I am guessing the Kohler store is for such people. I'm more an American Standard kind of guy.

I don't take much time for lunch - my job involves meeting in the morning where a panel divvies out work, two topics a day, editorial themes. If you're assigned one for the next day you have about three or four hours to write.

Thus far I have opined on snow shoveling ordinances (the paper was against them); the Blackhawks (they should have male bimbos on ice, too, for the ladies, as they have them for the guys); restoring funding to Fermilab; and Pakistan (it was a good move to for Bhutto's son to be named the figurehead leader of her party - a romantic, cinematic moment for Pakistan, my boss said.)

I didn't know much about Pakistan but learned what I could in an afternoon. It's politics are like Chicago's but way more violent. there are four main parties, one which is radical, the other three more traditionally corrupt. The Bhutto's PPP has a wing trying to reform, and the other side with his feudal and kleptocratic more than democratic. South Central Asian Shakespearean more than romantic, really.

Still, I think that in many case we could make some of our editorials even shorter - one or two sentences even. I'll provide examples:

Drew Peterson: This guy is a mook, so you shouldn't be surprised when he says stupid shit nor should it shock you if he killed his wife - which must really be bringing the property values down in newly yuppie-fied Bolingrbook.

The Petersons and the Stebics: Have you been to Plainfield and Bolingbrook lately? God used to punish people here with tornadoes. Everyone knows there was evil in these cornfields, now there are big, expensive houses with cheating husbands.

Wives who runaway: If you are going to dump your husband, don't leave your car running by a river. Take a cab and call a friend or leave a note so the rest of us don't have to hear your family's dirty laundry on TV.

Shoveling: Shovel your damn sidewalk. It's pretty sad that the local government even has to consider telling you to do this.

Pakistan: What a mess! Your democracy makes Lousiana's politicians look like there really are saints in New Orleans. And where the fuck is Osama?

Bush: What an idiot frat boy you turned out to be!

Romney: We demand to know the truth about magic underpants!

Giuliani: Could you shut up for minute about 9-11?

Obama: Promise us you won't appoint Oprah to anything if you win.

Huckabee: Are you really just a smarter Ned Flanders?

Iowa caucuses: There is not a lot to do in this state in winter is there? So every four years you have coffee klatches that have way too much attention paid to them. Why can't you just vote like a normal state primary?

See what I mean?

Anyway, iI'm also going to be involved in the endorsement process, which could mean meeting some of the presidential candidates. Imagine me and Hillary Clinton in the same room. Who'd a thunk it?

Another duty is pulling phone calls off a computer e-mail program (reader rant call-ins). I take them off a Windows machine where I first convert them to WAV files, then put them on a memory stick. From there it is to a Mac, where the file must go into iTunes to be converted to a AAC file, then put into Garage Band to be edited, then put back into iTunes as a AIF file, then sent as an attachment to the Web editor.

That seems metaphorical, but for what I will let you decide.