IN CHARGE

82 year old "Carl" suffered from Pancreatic Cancer. Carl was the favorite son growing up and was used to having things his way. He had always been in charge and that continued throughout his life.


He was soft spoken and not much of a talker, but had always had the command of the room. Carl lived with "Beverly", his wife of 56 years. Being a retired physician, Carl knew that the course of his disease was quite often rapid.


The first few visits with Carl and Beverly were always a lot of fun as Carl would constantly do a play on words. He got a kick out of getting me, which was often. At my first visit, for example, Carl said that his biggest complaint was weakness. Later on in the conversation, Beverly was talking about a family member that lived nearby. Carl then said, "I go their weakly."


Once Carl developed the first symptoms of a decline, he retired to his bed upstairs. He seemed to turn within and stopped talking. He appeared depressed, which he always denied when asked. He would just lie in his bed and stare at the walls. He had no stimulation as he kept the radio and TV turned off.


His decline was slow and Beverly was getting exhausted. Beverly shared how she was ready for it to be over as Carl had no quality of life. She didn't want him to suffer any longer and she was ready to move on with her life.


Carl had always said that he was ready to go and his family was wondering why he had not yet let go. One week prior to Carl's death, I made a visit and asked him if he was ready to go. His reply triggered the following poem.



IN CHARGE


He has always been in charge.
Of his life,
of his family,
of his dreams.

He has always done things his way.
It has worked well for him so far.
Whatever life hands down to him,
he makes sure he is in charge.

Once he knew his cancer was terminal,
he reacted the only way he knew.
He quickly became in charge of his disease,
willing it not to slow down.

He took to his bed and turned within,
quietly waiting for the end.
No music
no TV,
no books.
Life was over and he was done.

Weeks have gone by with a gradual decline.
His family is tired and worn.
They don't know why he's not letting go.
They are ready to move on.

He's gaunt, he's weak, he lies so still,
but they know he's still in charge.
Because when he was asked if he's ready to go,
he softly whispered in a determined voice,
"Not quite yet".