“Miss me? Well, I’m not dead yet.”
March 6, 2013 6:59 AM Subscribe
Nora Ephron’s Final Act by Jacob Bernstein (her son). [NYTimes.com]
"At 10 p.m. on a Friday night in a private room on the 14th Floor of NewYork-Presbyterian Hospital on 68th and York Avenue, my mother was lying in her bed hallucinating, in that dream space people go on their way to being gone."
I hope that when my time comes I can face my death with a similar grace and sense of humour.
posted by Fizz at 7:11 AM on March 6, 2013 [2 favorites]
posted by Fizz at 7:11 AM on March 6, 2013 [2 favorites]
Great piece. Thanks for sharing.
posted by ThePinkSuperhero at 7:16 AM on March 6, 2013
posted by ThePinkSuperhero at 7:16 AM on March 6, 2013
My stepmother is currently in the end stages of leukemia - she's at home with hospice care, released a month ago and expected to die within days. She's made it this far, but now it looks like it really will be any day now as she's no longer strong enough to sit up, much less get out of bed.
It was strangely comforting to read this. Very familiar, and while not really hopeful... hearing other families talk about the mundanities of terminal cancer makes it feel so much less hopeless.
posted by sonika at 7:24 AM on March 6, 2013 [3 favorites]
It was strangely comforting to read this. Very familiar, and while not really hopeful... hearing other families talk about the mundanities of terminal cancer makes it feel so much less hopeless.
posted by sonika at 7:24 AM on March 6, 2013 [3 favorites]
My grandmother was in the hospital for a few days last week, and although she came home yesterday, we're all trying to make peace with the idea that maybe she's not long for this world. She practically raised me, so it will be more like losing a mother than a grandmother, for me.
When we told her they were going to keep her in the hospital for a few days because her kidney function didn't look good, she said, "I'm 87 years old, how healthy do they expect me to be?"
Of course, she later opined, "This is the worst vacation I've ever been on," which would be funny except that she really did think she was in a hotel. Brains are weird.
posted by uncleozzy at 7:48 AM on March 6, 2013 [1 favorite]
When we told her they were going to keep her in the hospital for a few days because her kidney function didn't look good, she said, "I'm 87 years old, how healthy do they expect me to be?"
Of course, she later opined, "This is the worst vacation I've ever been on," which would be funny except that she really did think she was in a hotel. Brains are weird.
posted by uncleozzy at 7:48 AM on March 6, 2013 [1 favorite]
Beautiful piece. One thing in particular struck me.
“I want to live to be 100,” she said. “I want to see how things turn out for you and Max.”
There's a scene in the move The Anniversary Party where Phoebe Cates and JJ Leigh are hiding in a closet (possibly on E) and Cates opines that the worst thing about kids is that "you can't take a handful of percocet ... you can't slit your wrists!"
But it's even worse than that. You don't want to ever die.
“When I get out of the hospital, I’m going to go home and I’m going to make a pineapple milkshake with crushed pineapple, pineapple juice and vanilla ice cream, and I’m going to drink it and I’m going to die,” she said, savoring the last word. “It’s going to be great.”
Very wonderful insight into a very human process that our culture doesn't talk about much. Loved it.
posted by mrgrimm at 8:23 AM on March 6, 2013 [1 favorite]
“I want to live to be 100,” she said. “I want to see how things turn out for you and Max.”
There's a scene in the move The Anniversary Party where Phoebe Cates and JJ Leigh are hiding in a closet (possibly on E) and Cates opines that the worst thing about kids is that "you can't take a handful of percocet ... you can't slit your wrists!"
But it's even worse than that. You don't want to ever die.
“When I get out of the hospital, I’m going to go home and I’m going to make a pineapple milkshake with crushed pineapple, pineapple juice and vanilla ice cream, and I’m going to drink it and I’m going to die,” she said, savoring the last word. “It’s going to be great.”
Very wonderful insight into a very human process that our culture doesn't talk about much. Loved it.
posted by mrgrimm at 8:23 AM on March 6, 2013 [1 favorite]
This was a really great piece. Very touching. I don't follow any journalists regularly, but this son of hers, Jacob Bernstein, seems to be a great writer!
posted by mrzer0 at 8:36 AM on March 6, 2013
posted by mrzer0 at 8:36 AM on March 6, 2013
Sonika, I wish you lots of strength in the coming days.
posted by DreamerFi at 10:02 AM on March 6, 2013 [3 favorites]
posted by DreamerFi at 10:02 AM on March 6, 2013 [3 favorites]
Thank you. It's a complicated situation (what family isn't?), but I'm personally ok. We visited right when she was released home and she knows we love her and wish her peace.
posted by sonika at 10:05 AM on March 6, 2013
posted by sonika at 10:05 AM on March 6, 2013
This reminded me of my own experience with my mom dying. My mom was a big fan of Nora Ephron and introduced me to her when I was a teenager. It was funny to think that this was written by the kid in Heartburn. Thanks for posting.
posted by loveyallaround at 10:25 AM on March 6, 2013 [1 favorite]
posted by loveyallaround at 10:25 AM on March 6, 2013 [1 favorite]
she hoped my brother and I would lead the kind of lives where we did stuff big enough to occasionally say, “Wow, I wish Mom was around for this.”
This is what got me. Damn dust.
posted by Glinn at 10:38 AM on March 6, 2013 [2 favorites]
This is what got me. Damn dust.
posted by Glinn at 10:38 AM on March 6, 2013 [2 favorites]
What a beautiful tribute to his mom. I think I have something in my eye.
posted by Mental Wimp at 1:58 PM on March 6, 2013
posted by Mental Wimp at 1:58 PM on March 6, 2013
Beautifully written and hard to read, especially after losing my mother to cancer some years ago. Sonika and uncleozzy I'm thinking of you both - and of my high school friend dying now far too young.
posted by leslies at 4:51 PM on March 6, 2013
posted by leslies at 4:51 PM on March 6, 2013
“When I get out of the hospital, I’m going to go home and I’m going to make a pineapple milkshake with crushed pineapple, pineapple juice and vanilla ice cream, and I’m going to drink it and I’m going to die,” she said, savoring the last word. “It’s going to be great.”And from earlier on:
She did make her own pineapple shake, didn't she.
As she saw him, McAlary was a role model not so much in life, but in death, in the way that he used writing to maintain his sense of purpose and find release from his illness. In the six years my mother had MDS, she wrote 100 blog posts, two books and two plays and directed a movie. There was nothing she could do about her death but to keep going in the face of it. Work was its own kind of medicine, even if it could not save her when her MDS came roaring back.
posted by the cydonian at 7:21 PM on March 6, 2013
This is really good, and it does hit close to home for me-- my father is in the LI Veterans Home as of last Friday, with a surprise diagnosis of stage IV metastatic cancer-- I'm not sure how long he's got, but suffice to say that yesterday I was down there filling out intake forms and then had an appointment with the funeral home to work on a pre-need. Could be a month, could be tomorrow.
This sort of interstitial existence is exactly what he's going through now-- he also has dementia, so when I visit, he's sort of in and out . . . one day he looks at me and cannot talk, and others he can interact some. Yesterday he couldn't talk for an hour, and then when I left he simply said "Thanks, James." I made it down the hall before I completely lost it.
Writing is a big part of my life, what I do . . . I hope that I am able to write something as touching and eloquent about my father, both as a testament to him, but for myself, as a way to process.
". . . . and it occurred to me that part of what she was trying to do by writing about someone else’s death was to understand her own." This piece was a certain sort of solace for me, right now.
posted by exlotuseater at 10:25 AM on March 7, 2013 [3 favorites]
This sort of interstitial existence is exactly what he's going through now-- he also has dementia, so when I visit, he's sort of in and out . . . one day he looks at me and cannot talk, and others he can interact some. Yesterday he couldn't talk for an hour, and then when I left he simply said "Thanks, James." I made it down the hall before I completely lost it.
Writing is a big part of my life, what I do . . . I hope that I am able to write something as touching and eloquent about my father, both as a testament to him, but for myself, as a way to process.
". . . . and it occurred to me that part of what she was trying to do by writing about someone else’s death was to understand her own." This piece was a certain sort of solace for me, right now.
posted by exlotuseater at 10:25 AM on March 7, 2013 [3 favorites]
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