Monthly Archives: April 2016

Tuesday evening, February 22, 2016

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Cherie — if you are reading this you have survived — PRAISE GOD! That means you will soon be coming to get your kids and start a new life in Arizona — or that you are settled and well in Lake Isabella and I am bringing them back. That is up to you and Bob.

This is ONLY until you recover — until you are up and about and well. Temporary – Laura & I.

You have been at the doors of death since last Friday — and been through two brain surgeries, an ambulance trip and helicopter trip to Bakersfield.

We have watched you lie in a coma with a machine breathing for you, and tubes keeping you hydrated, nourished and drains relieving the pressure in your brain.

Your beautiful hair will grow. 😦

You have survived and people all over the country have prayed for you. You are a miracle.

I love you.

Laura & Mom

Note: This is a letter I left with the night nurse in ICU at Bakersfield Memorial Hospital in California the evening Laura and I left to return to Tucson, bringing Cherie’s two children with us, Shane, 11 and Bobbie, 10. My stomach was in a knot with the thought that she might wake up, and learning that her kids were with me, think I had taken them away from her. That alone could have killed her.

The letter was put in her medical chart, a copy on her wall and instructions given to be sure she read (or heard) it if she regained consciousness and coherence to read/hear it.

(Sadly, it was never needed.)

Laura and I had driven over Friday afternoon, February 19, after the call from her husband that she had collapsed in the shower and been rushed to the hospital. She was now on life support and had pneumonia.

I had raised her two older children, Brian (now 20) and Laura (now 19). Even though she gave up guardianship, in fear that the judge learning she was pregnant with Shane would take him too, she had always looked at it as though I took them from her.

She had a ruptured aneurysm on the right side between her eyebrows and had been in a coma ever since. First a medical coma, to let her brain rest, then when taken off the medication that kept her asleep, did not wake up. Eventually she did open her eyes, but it was not the good sign we had hoped. First her eyes did not focus together, then when they did, she was in absolute terror and distress.

The doctor told us that the right frontal lobe and both rear lobes had been destroyed by the bleed. This meant that if she recovered, her memory and personality would be hopelessly impaired. Our loving, funny, caring, curious Cherie would no longer be inside this shell of her body. She would be in a vegatative state from now on.

Her dad, when told, said people could live without a personality, after all, he had for 75 years.

Her older son, Brian flew to be with her, while she was still in a coma and needed support when she opened her eyes with such anguish. I went back over to California and stayed until after she was extubated and only then, relaxed and breathed on her own and rested.

Not bearing to talk on the phone to people, but desiring prayers of friends, I used Facebook to post her status and ask for prayers. Replies of love, prayer and support flooded in from friends as far as England and Africa. Facebook turned out to be a great tool for this.

She was moved to a private room and although basically non-responsive, several times changed her breathing patterns drastically, seeming to take part in our conversations, with approval or exclamation points.

Brian and I were discussing moving her closer to the side of the bed so we could lie beside her and hold her. Not wanting to ‘disturb’ her, we discussed if we should or not. Finally, I looked over to her, lying there peacefully breathing slow and steady and quietly, and said, “Cherie, do you want Brian to lie down with you?” She suddenly gave three huge, loud sighs and Brian said, “I’ll take that as a Yes.” So we moved her and both had chances to lie beside her and hold her.

Brian barely had left the room since she was moved from ICU. He finally went to the Hope House where we had a room, to take a shower and a short nap.

Laura was caring for the two younger children and knew Cherie was dying. We learned that their dad, when asked by them how Mommy was doing, had been telling them good or fine. He didn’t want to hurt them, understandably, but they were being misled.

We got them on Facetime with their dad so he could prepare them for her death, with Laura standing by for them, to comfort them and the Hospice lady with us to guide Bob and me.

I had been sitting watching her breathe, slow and steady, during his talk with the kids. When Brian opened the door to come back in the room, old blood came from Cherie’s nose, and as I wiped it away, Brian asked “when did she stop breathing?”

And she was gone.

It seemed that as soon as her smaller children knew the truth, with Laura beside them, and Brian walked in the room, her family circle was complete and she could leave.

Our beautiful, fun-loving, deeply caring, precious Cherie was forever gone.

No longer in pain from crushed vertebrae in her back. No longer addicted to drugs. No longer dealing with emotional pain from her fathers abandonment. No longer decrying her brother’s shame and anger at her. No longer feeling guilt over absolutely everything she was powerless to change.

Free to see her brother, Danny in heaven. Her grandparents, Floy & Richard, and Annie & Berlin. Her great-grandparents and more she had never met. Free to be with Our Lord, who had walked her path with her, always reaching out to help her and loving her.

We now get to bear the pain, of losing an amazing daughter, sister, mother, wife; looking at her photos in her phone to see her world from her eyes. Noticing the color lime green, every time we see it, because it was her absolute favorite. Wanting to buy every pig, stuffed or ceramic that we see, because she loved them so and we always bought them for her. Listening to the Fight Song by Rachel Platten that we so wanted to help her fight to recover. Listening to songs by Lauren Daigle reminding us that we can “Trust in You”; Citizen Way reminding us the though ‘Everything’s not fine, I’m not okay’ that we still could come to Him for His love and comfort.

Its been hard to listen to Danny’s music, since she’s gone, since we kept it playing by her bedside her last two days. She missed him so much, and it seemed comforting to her (or to us) as we sat with her, counting shallow breaths and loving her.

We put together a beautiful memorial for her, using the words of songs that spoke to my heart, a paraphrase of a poem to a daughter that I found on a coffee cup, of all things, and a slide show of photos from her phone. Our Pastor Mike read the paper I wrote him telling of her life, in its entirety, that becoming her eulogy. He preached a beautiful sermon of God’s love and forgiveness. He told us that drugs won’t keep us from heaven. Bad things we do won’t keep us from heaven. Only NOT believing on Jesus will keep us from heaven, and Cherie totally believed in Jesus. Those other things will just make our life here more miserable, but with faith in Christ we can overcome them, because He paid it all for us.

I was able to video the sermon on my phone in 6 segments (I was afraid I would run out of storage and lose it all) and post it on You Tube. I was able to turn her slide show into a Quick Time movie and post it on You Tube. Lauren Daigle’s team gave me permission to use her music with the slides!

Laura and I share custody of Shane and Bobbie until their dad can sell their house and move out here. The struggle is real, as they don’t really respect Laura as an authority figure (and me sometimes) and she’s hurting from losing her mother, as well as the hope of more time with her someday. Her significant other has been non-supportive, not understanding why it is such a loss for Laura, since her mother didn’t raise her. This has caused even more pain for Laura, because you really expect your closest friend to care for your pain.

My work has been supportive for me, letting me bring the kids at times, as long as they aren’t disruptive and no one complains. The residents love them, they bring young blood to the place and fresh faces.

We started attending Tu Nidito (Your Little Nest), a children (and adults) grief support group, and I think it has much healing in it’s walls for each of us. I hope for Laura to attend their young adult group.

Life goes on, I find myself at the computer looking at her slideshow over and over. Writing about Cherie gives me comfort and release, as well. Maybe now I can write my book.

Cherie

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Cherie Kathleen Hill was born in Phoenix, the youngest of Paul & Lyvonne Hill’s four children. Danny, her oldest brother, at 5 years old, had been saving dimes for a baby sister, since his mom had told him that they couldn’t afford a baby girl. Ron was 4 and Tracy was 3 when she was born, so four children under 5 years old made for a very busy home. Having been an only child, Lyvonne wanted her children to have siblings, to not ever be lonely, as she had been growing up. Lyvonne had no idea how hard it would be with four kids under five years of age.

Lonely, they were not. The Hill household, after moving to Tucson became the place where all the neighborhood kids gathered. Often the station wagon was filled with our four plus neighborhood kids going to church and Sunday school.

Life changed drastically for the kids when their parents divorced, Cherie, at ten years old, had always been “Daddy’s girl”, and now found herself stuck with her least favorite parent, and three big brothers, who were struggling into their teens.

Life grew very complicated for Cherie, and bad choices began to be the norm. Being told she would never have children (for medical reasons) was a heartbreak to her early on. At twelve she had spent the summer caring for Danny’s girlfriend’s little girl, Feather, and so wanted babies of her own.

She had her dad’s long legs, so being tall made her appear older and helped her get into bad situations and places too easily. Drinking and drugs became on ongoing problem that haunted her from then on.

After spending 3 months in Phoenix because of a DUI, she came out clean and sober, met a man, Pete, with two small children she adored, and became Mommy to them. Then she got pregnant! Brian was the love of her life. Her “main man!” She absolutely loved being a mommy. Seventeen months later she and Pete had Laura. She was thrilled to have a baby girl.

They had their struggles with his drinking and her drugs and she left him when Laura was three months old. Shortly afterwards, she was arrested for transporting drugs and spent the next few years in Federal prison. Lyvonne took custody of Brian and Laura and continued her job at the TV station, taking them to visit her as often as possible.

After Cherie was released to come home she met Bob and they married. Soon they had Shane and seventeen months later came Bobbie Kathleen.

They moved to Lake Isabella, California, most of his family being in Bakersfield, hoping to get her away from bad contacts. Her addictions continued to torment her and Bob continued to try to control her and keep her off drugs. She had physical pain from a severe back injury, as well as emotional pain, and drugs were her escape.

She paid dearly for her addiction… Loss of contact from some valued family members, social isolation, lack of respect from husband and younger children, not getting to raise her older children, not to mention sleepless nights, close-calls, living on edge and all the drama that follows the drug scene. But she wore her addiction like a badge while always being able to tell you she had been clean for x-number of days.

Life was not easy for her. She began to walk stooped over from the back injury. She couldn’t have the needed surgery because she needed to be drug-free three months before they would do it, and her pain level wouldn’t allow that. She found it difficult to lie comfortably in bed and often slept in a chair after eating Moose Tracks ice cream.

She had always wanted her children to attend Bloom Elementary, Magee Middle School and Sahuaro High, that she had attended. By living with Lyvonne, Brian and Laura did attend those schools.

When Laura graduated from Sahuaro High School, Cherie traveled by bus to Los Angeles, and by train to Tucson to surprise Laura. She was so proud of Laura and so thrilled to be with her. Brian had paid for her trip, so he surprised us all by coming from North Dakota for the graduation, too.

Cherie was in heaven, being with her two oldest, and constantly on the phone with the two youngest, who had never been separated from mommy before. She scrubbed the alkali from the marble tile in my bathroom, carving a heart to remind me of her love.

Recently Cherie and Bob had decided to move back to Arizona and began searching the Internet for a place.

She and Lyvonne had some serious issues years before, and had worked through them, as she finally learned to trust that her mother really did love her. It seemed that as she realized her mother loved her “no matter what” she began to grasp that her Heavenly Father also loved her “no matter what”. She seemed to have more peace in her heart.

On a Friday morning, she was in the shower, talking to Bob through the door. Her friend, Shelly came over and went back to talk to her. Cherie didn’t answer and after several calls, Shelly opened the door and found Cherie collapsed in the shower, her face white and body blue.

Paramedics disassembled the shower door and got her out, giving her a shot to counteract if it was an overdose. The shot did nothing. At the hospital, they found she had an aneurysm that had ruptured causing a stroke. She also had pneumonia and they intubated her. The doctor told her husband that she could neither have caused this or prevented it. Later that afternoon they transported her by Life Lift helicopter to Bakersfield Memorial hospital.

Laura and Lyvonne drove over to be with her and stayed until after her repair surgery, as long as work would permit.

During the next few days, she had surgery to place a drain in her head, for the bleed, and surgery to repair the aneurysm. The damage from the bleed was too much and she was unable to recover.

Brian arrived in Tucson from a trip out of the country and flew to be with her. When she finally opened her eyes, it was not good, as we had hoped. She either was vague and non-focusing or her eyes were filled with terror. It was awful! Test showed massive brain damage from the bleed.

With much anguish, we agreed to let them extubate her. The process went amazingly smooth and she relaxed her expression and began to rest and breathe on her own.

They moved her to a private room, out of ICU and all the exposure, and we had two peaceful, though heartbreakingly sad days with her. She waited until Laura, Shane, Bobbie & Bob were on FaceTime with her and Brian in the room and she was gone.

We will never forget our beautiful, spontaneous, creative, thoughtful, caring, long-texting, outgoing, fun-loving, challenging, lovable, ice cream-eating Cherie.

Danny Day

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Yesterday, March 30, marked 29 years since my oldest son, Danny, died. When I thought of that, I wondered, “have I been sad over 30 years?” (We knew he had AIDS 19 months before he died.) I find — I have not, surprisingly.

l still love to hear the name Danny (or Dan, or Daniel) .. even on other people. His music is still my very best favorite. Photos of him still make me pause and take a deep breath and thank God for giving me such an awesome son. (The other two are also Awesome!)

What have I learned in 29 years?

The first few years I was totally absorbed in my grief process and grief work, volunteering with PACT (then called TAP — Tucson AIDS Project) as an advocate for guys with AIDS. I spent ten years on their speaker’s bureau, talking to schools, U of A, hospitals in-service training and many other places, telling the story of all the love that Dan’s friends surrounded him with at the end. My other kids waited on the sideline, graciously, while I worked my way through my pain.

I have learned that time and God’s faithfulness do heal and they help me focus not on his loss, but on all that he was when he was here. I thank God that he was a musician and left me his beautiful music and videos.

He taught me so much, about facing his mortality, accepting with dignity and being open to letting our painful process help others. I learned to open my eyes and see the beauty in others, and to try not to take people for granted. I’ve learned to pray for my other kids faithfully, for their safety, peace and blessings.

This past month I have relied so much on things I learned through Danny as I watched my beautiful daughter, Cherie, lie in a coma and slip away from us. I’ve learned how to get rid of anger without hurting others (usually, please God) and to be transparent. I’ve learned most people are tender and caring if you are honest with them and if they aren’t, it is not up to me to fix them.

I have learned that prayer is the most powerful thing you can do for someone you care about … and it is effective!!!!

God is faithful and life is good, Most of the time I am way more happy than I probably deserve to be.

“Weeping may endure for a season (or years) but joy comes in the morning … “