My Seasons of Grief: A Story of Healing

By K.R. McMahon

NEW THING

I am a rarity in this modern world, in this Quantum Age, now, in the sea of life, we all have yachts with a spare engine and a jet ski. We like to keep moving, to duck and weave, to crawl if we cant walk, or to run in every other instance, we move, our culture, society, economy, media, ecology, our whole way of life, here in the West at least, has been centered around the notion that we always ought to be moving, full of motion sickness, this feeling, the feeling of moving (simulated to perfection by our greatest creation; the automobile), this allows us to know that we are in fact alive, and not dead, but I believe there is a further benefit, that this constant motion allows for us to ignore another of the more serious, life defining questions, what are we rushing towards? Where does this treadmill ultimately lead? The answer is the same for all of us, sick, healthy, fat, bald, ugly, short, accomplished, home-wreckers, murderers, free men; ultimately we will all die.

Kevin Ross McMahon 11/19/1984 6/29/2013

Encourage each other in my death with calls to go farther up, and farther in in this life, so that you are prepared for the next as best you can.

Alright, thats hardly all I have, but still it must suffice I fear. Peace, joy and delightful things to you all.

Love, always; Ross

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: Sep 21, 2015
• ISBN: 9781491774472

K.R. McMahon

Kevin McMahon has but one thing that qualifies him to write this book on grief. That one credential is twenty eight years of familiarity with the process of grieving. His beginning studies in the field of grief and grieving revolved around the life changing chronic illness that beset his son Ross when he was two years old. Those experiences in grieving the loss of health, youthful vigor and promise would be abated with Ross’s miracle lung transplant when he was 17 years old – a lung transplant that included a donated lung lobe from the author himself. Kevin’s advanced studies in the field of grief began on June 29, 2013 on the occasion of Ross’s death. That death would spawn a whole new set of challenges and insights into the experience of grief and grieving.

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Copyright © 2015 K. R. McMahon.

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ISBN: 978-1-4917-7446-5 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4917-7448-9 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-4917-7447-2 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2015912853

iUniverse rev. date:  09/14/2015

Contents

Foreword

Preface

Chapter One: The Back Story

Chapter Two: Imposing Order

Chapter Three: First Season – Grieving the Death - Numb

Chapter Four: First Season – Grieving the Death - Numb

Chapter Five: Second Season – Grieving the Life – Regrets, Recollections, and Reminiscences (memories)

Chapter Six: Second Season – Grieving the Life – Regrets, Recollections, and Reminiscences (Memories)

Chapter Seven: Third Season – Re-living and Re-grouping

Chapter Eight: Third Season – Re-living and Re-grouping

Chapter Nine: Fourth Season – Renewal and Rededication

Chapter Ten: Fourth Season – Renewal and Rededication

Chapter Eleven: Losing a Child (a special note)

Chapter Twelve: My Statement of Faith

Foreword

Once Upon a Death:

To be read to All at my funeral.

Dear All;

I f you are hearing this, or reading this for that matter, then I have perished, bought the farm died, croaked, expired, or one of a thousand other euphemisms that we as a society have built around ourselves to hide from the extreme finality that is death. For me this is not a new thought or concept, it has for years been a specter that has cast its long shadow over all my actions and my decisions, as it should I believe. The actual experience I am sure, will be terrifying, sliding from this existence out, into something and somewhere that is surprisingly and terrifyingly unknown. I say slide here, because I have heard a wise man say that your soul sometimes burrows, and hooks itself into your body, which even the body of the most beautiful female is no more than a vessel, but like my very lungs, my body has always had a hard time sharing itself or giving over control to my soul and spirit. I have not nestled, I am not comfortable, never truly have been inside my body. I know, have known, hard to get used to that verb tense huh? Yeah, for me too. This body is just a vessel, I kept it fueled and in some sort of working order, but I treated it like I treat my cars, they are there to serve, they are to be war horses, tough, rough, and able to keep going. Appropriately enough, I got dealt this body, which really could be described as none of those things.

I have always been a curious person, it has often been a sad realization of mine that, these days I am in the minority I think. I think that one of the reasons for the decline in curiosity is the amount of information that is available, so easily. Leg work is not needed anymore, you don’t have to go to the library anymore, or even know a person with a set of encyclopedias. I personally enjoy the benefits of this type of culture because it allows me to engage and indulge my curiosity. However, I believe that people now feel that if they need to know something, they will be told, why stray from the path? Why indulge curiosity? Many people have a hard enough time assimilating to the world around them, processing and using the information that they receive moment to moment, and I can accept that, but I, as one who has passed on, encourage, plead, beg you to broaden yourselves. Our forefathers sacrificed, meaning they gave up something they believed to be of lesser value, their lives- either in death or in service to their Nation, and ultimately, hopefully, to the world- for something of greater value, freedom.

-Legacy

This world has never been kind to me, the terrain, socially, spiritually, physically has been rough. However, I am thankful to all of you, for you made this world a little more bearable, even, at times sweet. Of course you and I have both had our ‘bastard moments’, but if you are anything like me, you have left those days behind you for the most part, and continue to travel up the mountain in a quest to find truth, peace, and ultimately G-D. This world never housed an accurate representation of my true nature, I look forward in the next stage, to finding a manifestation that clothes me more accurately than this physical form. I am going to leave most of you here with a quote from C.S. Lewis’ ‘The Last Battle’, which I always loved, perhaps for this quote, ‘Farther up, and Farther in’. Alright, my dear friends and family, in the end all I have are words, and they are woefully not enough to express the gratitude I feel towards each of you for the part you have played in my life, but as I write this, I am perhaps years from death, even still, tears are glimmering in my eyes as I think on all that I have been given a chance to experience. Encourage each other in my death with calls to go ‘farther up, and farther in’ in this life, so that you are prepared for the next as best you can. Alright, that’s hardly all I have, but still it must suffice I fear. Peace, joy and delightful things to you all.

Love, always;

Ross

Preface

F rom my exceedingly limited vantage point (I have stubbornly/intentionally never read a book on grieving) successful books on dying, death and grieving are penned by authors who are MD’s or PhD’s or individuals with firsthand experience with a drama filled death situation. Job-like, multiple death situations usually impart instant credibility on the author of such books.

Although I experienced but one death it was a death drama that I believe is singularly unique in the human history of death dramas (excuse the hyperbole). Almost by necessity it was preceded by a unique and drama filled life as well as a post death narrative filled with incomprehensible pain and blessings and grace. The entire story of life, death and post death will be woven throughout this book on grieving but here at the beginning I will share the days leading up to the final 24 hours of my son Ross’s life.

So much was unique about the story of Ross’s life. For purposes of this first story I will share that Ross started life as normal as a child can be brought into the world. He scored quite well on his Apgar test and his parents could not have been more proud and hope filled. His first years were normal to the extreme. At some point when he was in his second year, however, he began to experience ever more frequent respiratory infections.

As time and a whole host of specialists began to get involved it was determined that he had contracted a respiratory sensitizing virus (RSV). Over the coming years this infection began to inexorably lay waste to his lungs. As a result Ross and his mom fought a pitched battle for his health and life sustaining breath over the next fifteen years.

At the tender age of 17 while still a junior in high school he decided to go through with a live lobar lung transplant at Children’s Hospital of Los Angeles. My brother Brian and I each donated one of our lung lobes to Ross (my right lower lung lobe, Brian’s lower left lobe). For the next 11 plus years these two lung lobes gave Ross a second life filled with all manner of living and possibilities realized.

In late May early June 2013 Ross had moved back home as his roommate Adam was getting married in July. Ross was battling a series of infections as was so very often the case during his pre and post transplant life. The doctors were treating them with IV’s and a very heavy dose of oral antibiotics.

On Wednesday, June 26 Ross was struggling to catch his breath at home. Unable to even stand up, his mother Holly took him to Akron Children’s Hospital. It was determined that he was in congestive heart failure. Some IV medications had given him great relief enabling him to breathe. It was decided to transport him to Nationwide Children’s Hospital in Columbus so that his regular transplant doctors could better treat him. They wanted to life flight him but storms in Columbus made this impossible so they used this very large diesel step van ambulance to take both he and Holly.

Besides the fact that he was in intensive care at Nationwide nothing much distinguished this hospital admission from the many that had preceded it.

Ross’s girlfriend/fiancé Tessa had driven his car down on Thursday and I joined the party that day as well. Ross was in good spirits although a bit subdued. Ross’s sister Susan picked up Olive Garden carry-out on her way down and we all shared a meal together in his room. I left late on Thursday to return to Akron and work. As I departed I knew I was leaving Ross in great hands surrounded by the three women he loved most.

One of the things that Ross along with his doctors had been exploring was the possibility of a second lung transplant. When Ross had his first transplant in 2002 the listing process was a formality as he had two donors ready and able to give their lung lobes. Not so this time around as Ross would need to take his chances on the transplant list awaiting his turn for someone to die and leave their lungs to him.

The doctors decided to do some testing while he was at Nationwide. They wanted to do a cardiac catheterization under exercise conditions. The doctors thought that with his current condition of congestive heart failure in full bloom, the measures obtained from the test would show an immediate need for a transplant and help Ross move up on the transplant waiting list.

A decision was made to try to squeeze this test in on Friday since it would not be available to be done on the weekend. Holly and Ross traveled via ambulance from Nationwide to the Ohio State University Medical center to have the test done. Holly was concerned with Ross’s fragile condition and the fact that he was truly struggling to catch his breath. By some small miracle they made it over there and back to his room in the ICU.

During the Friday evening hours Ross was having an increasingly difficult time breathing on his own. At some point Ross (the man who never complained about anything and had struggled for breath much of his life) told his mom that they had to do something to help him breathe. The doctors tried some assistive devices and these gave some temporary relief but his ability to draw a breath of air was getting harder and harder

Late Friday evening Holly, Susan and Tessa decided to take turns staying on the unit and getting sleep. Holly and Tessa poured their exhausted bodies into two beds at the always comforting Ronald McDonald House while Susan took the first shift staying up with Ross. During her watch Susan was checking on Ross. Here are her words from her blog about what happened next:

The first is that moment where Ross became unresponsive on non-invasive ventilation. I did a sternal rub and he didn’t move. I went to get the attending and he came in and examined Ross, looked over everything, then turned to me and asked if I knew what Ross would have wanted in terms of intubation and life support.

I had planned to go down to Nationwide with Susan’s husband Joe on Saturday morning. Just as I was settling in for a fitful night sleep I got a call from Holly. In all of the medical drama that was Ross’s life I never had a phone call from Holly that said, You need to come now. Joe and I packed, rallied at his house and left for the two hour trip to Columbus.

When we arrived at Nationwide Ross was on the machine that would provide him with his life giving oxygen for the next 18 hours of his precious life. He was heavily sedated and not able to talk. I knew that something truly monumental in a life filled with medical monuments was taking place before my stunned eyes.

The doctors were using some very heavy medicines to support his blood pressure. So not only was the ventilator doing the breathing for him but these IV meds called pressors were keeping the blood circulating because his heart was not able to do this on its own.

As the day of June 29 would unfold the full extent of Ross’s compromised situation would break heavy on my uncomprehending mind. His Nurse Practitioner mom Holly and Internal Medicine Resident sister Susan would do the heavy lifting in terms of interaction with doctors and nurses and try as best they could to translate the incomprehensible for me and all those who would rally to Ross’s side.

For me and for all those who would come to pay a final visit to Ross the incomprehension was both medical and personal. On the surface three days ago Ross was planning to seek a second lung transplant, on Friday he underwent a test to help get him listed. Now he was in a struggle for his very life. He had fought so long and so valiantly, yet on this day it appeared as though he was fighting a battle unlike any he had fought to that point.

At 7:00 that morning we met with a physician from Palliative Care Services. She laid out for Holly, Susan, Joe, Tessa and me Ross’s current condition. She also talked about short term as well as long run treatment options. Holly and Susan were tuned in to the max. Joe, Tessa and I had to be spoon fed the reality that Ross and all of us were facing.

Here is my non medical synopsis. Over the past year Ross had lost the use of his left lung lobe owing to acute rejection. He was down to one functioning lung lobe (the one I gave him) and they wondered if that lobe was also undergoing acute rejection. Ross’s system was fighting several major infections. In addition Ross was in congestive heart failure with the need for heavy doses of medication to keep his blood circulating. The doctor’s had tried to wean him from these medications but his system was totally relying on these machines and medications to keep him alive.

The prognosis was not good. The bitter reality was that this particular battle in a 27 year war was not going to be won. To those of us who walked with Ross the entire length of his journey we knew that this time was probably inevitable. We knew that his death had been forestalled by eleven years with transplanted lung lobes.

For Tessa, his girlfriend of nine months, the reality was pointedly crushing. She and Ross had planned to get married. After we got the bottom line from the palliative doc I vividly recall how Holly besieged by her own sorrow took the time to patiently and lovingly frame the situation for Tessa in light of Ross’s totally compromised medical condition.

We came out of that meeting knowing that Ross’s condition was not salvageable. We came to accept that there were no viable paths that would lead Ross to recovery. We came out of that meeting with a plan to use this day for family and friends to come to Nationwide to visit Ross one final time.

The calls went out and the people came by the car load. Over the course of that final Saturday family and friends arrived and comforted and went to Ross’s bedside to share words of reminiscence and love and to say their final goodbyes.

The emotions were so raw and so exposed. I most remember Tessa claiming a spot next to Ross on his bed where she stayed the majority of the day talking to him and providing the words to his parade of visitors that he was unable to utter. It was a time of utter undoneness and incomparable grace as the totally unscripted affair would unfold before my uncomprehending eyes.

I also remember the saints that visited him from his church family. They would say prayers aloud, read scripture and at one point sing songs that they used in their worship services. One of his closest friends Adam Haynes took it upon himself to orchestrate this burgeoning crowd as they came that day to see Ross one final time.

By evening all of the good byes had been said and the crowd dwindled down to Tessa, Holly, Susan, Joe, his best friends Adam, Ben Alger and Tyler and me. The eight of us would gather around him and form an inner circle that would wait out the final hours of Ross’s life.

We continued doing what we had done that entire day. We prayed out loud and in silence. We read scriptures. We told stories. We laughed. We cried. Mostly we cried.

The doctors had been gradually turning down the medicines and ventilator that were together sustaining Ross’s life. The goal would be for Ross to simply fade away without any pain or distress. After the minutes turned into hours it became apparent that Ross was not going to play along with whatever the doctors were doing to bring his life to a peace filled ending. Ross continued to live on in spite of all that the doctors tried.

Finally it was decided that it would be best to remove Ross from the ventilator. Everyone vacated Ross’s room while the nurses and doctors pulled the breathing tube from his lungs.

When we re-entered the room gone was the garish tube sticking from his mouth. His head was lying on his pillow and no longer pointed backward like he was checking for a car in his blind spot. He was freshened up and we all resumed our positions around the bed as Tessa nestled in next to him.

I remember quite distinctly that I stood at the head of his bed and cradled Ross’s head in my hands. We all assumed that this would be the end and that it would come quickly. Ross apparently had other ideas. His breaths came slowly and they were shallow but breathe he did.

Emotions were building to a crescendo. I think that everyone gathered in that room sensed that the indomitable spirit that was Ross had taken control of this totally out of control situation. It was as if he was waiting for something to happen or for some words to be spoken.

Moving at the behest of what could only have been God I left my station at the head of the bed, took up Tessa’s bible and turned the pages to verses that Ross had told me long ago were among his favorite. I read the following:

Isaiah 40 28-31.

Do you not know?

Have you not heard?

The LORD is the everlasting God,

the Creator of the ends of the earth.

He will not grow tired or weary,

and his understanding no one can fathom.

²⁹ He gives strength to the weary

and increases the power of the weak.

³⁰ Even youths grow tired and weary,

and young men stumble and fall;

³¹ but those who hope in the LORD

will renew their strength.

They will soar on wings like eagles;

they will run and not grow weary,

they will walk and not be faint.

As I finished reading these words Ross exhaled his final breath. As if a dam of pent up emotions and utter exhaustion had suddenly broke we together and alone tried to grasp all that had just happened. Our son, brother, friend, fiancé was gone.

It has taken me time to process that final day of Ross’s life. It was a totally unscripted affair at least as something like this could ever be written by the hands of man. God, however, had a direct hand in how these final pages of Ross’s life were played out. He was truly present in that room and among all the assembled.

As I will detail later one of my lingering regrets was that I did not take the time to speak to Ross during that entire final day. I can excuse it a thousand ways but the fact remains that everyone from an 89 year old grandmother to twenty something cousins poured their heart out to Ross and said righteous good-byes. Everyone that is, except me.

The nurses would comment to us that whenever Tessa was lying beside Ross and talking to him his vital signs showed improvement. I do not think that anyone would deny that Ross was listening as one after another came to fellowship with him one final time. I am sure that Ross was listening for me. Yet I failed to engage with him. Never at a loss for words, his father was strangely silent.

As with many failures in my life my benevolent God provided the seeds for redemption. As I read from Isaiah and said the word faint Ross exhaled his final breath from his right lung lobe, the same lung lobe that was inside of me 11 years previously. To pray your