The worst news: Penelope Carolyn Jacob, born Oct. 12, 1967, went into respiratory arrest while in rehabilitative care Thursday, Sept. 3, 2009, and died.
The focus now is on her 8-year-old daughter, Logan, and husband John.
I’m writing this as a starting point, and John will vet it and add any of his own comments before posting this to Dreams & Bones. I am Cheryl, Penelope’s sister.
She will be cremated, as she disliked the idea of caskets. Memorial services might take place later, but that’s not the kind of thing she went for. In lieu of flowers, I suggest you send memories: Post stories here about Penelope as you knew her. Logan will treasure these as she grows up, so she can better know her mother.
While death was a possibility, Penelope’s focus was on recovery following surgery to deal with cancer. She stated her intentions in an e-mail to family the night before she died: “Up in a wheelchair. Off O2 By September 10 2009 for the first day assembly. “John said she hadn’t missed a school assembly since Logan began attending.
I arrived Aug. 31 to assist the family during the transition to a new office for John, a new school year for Logan and, we hoped, a return to walking and something closer too her normal life for Penelope.
Driving my rental car, Logan and I dropped off John at his office in downtown Eugene before arriving at the nursing home to visit with Penelope. She was eating the rest of the vegetarian lasagna she’d saved from dinner, as she didn’t care for the breakfast offered Thursday. We’d brought her an oatmeal-sesame pancake from one of her favorite cafes for a late lunch Wednesday, as she found much of the home’s food unpalatable.
Logan and Penelope talked about what Logan wanted to do that day “ play date with a friend at a local pool, driving with Auntie Cheryl to her school to show her the way and show off the school, stay and play at the nursing home until it was time to fetch John for a quick lunchtime visit. Penelope let Logan unwrap a gift from her teacher, a T-shirt with the silhouette of a giraffe on it. While Logan did this, Penelope talked with her about the new school year, set to start next week.
If you’re reading this, you’ve likely read her blog here and know all this: Penelope battled melanoma that moved to the lining of her brain. Part of this cancer grew into a large enough tumor to affect her mobility and require surgery near her brain when the nonintrusive gamma laser treatment failed. As John explained it to me, any such activity near the brain can bruise it, causing temporary edema that affects that section temporarily, until the swelling recedes.
As expected by the neurosurgeon, Penelope regained partial mobility to her right side immediately after the surgery. She went from not being able to use her right hand at all to use of the fingers and motion below the elbow, and the physical therapy was working on her shoulder. The edema from the surgery, however, immediately cut off communication with her lower body and right arm.
This was also expected, and was why she was in a nursing home while they waited for the slow progress as her body took care of the swelling. She could feel everything, but had no way to tell her legs to move.
This temporary paralysis, combined with water weight from the steroids prescribed, made it quite difficult for her to get around. She needed a hoist to transfer from her bed to a reclining chair in her room, or to settle onto the shower chair similar to a patio lounger but made of strong PVC pipes to be rolled to the shower room at the nursing home.
Logan chose to take Auntie Cheryl out of the room to play in the sitting area we’d claimed as our own. We also went out to a pair of apple trees on the back lawn of the facility, to pick up our game of fairy hoteliers from Wednesday. We spread a wide towel in the shade and lay down to watch the clouds and talk about what we tiny fairies could steal from the picnic baskets of nearby (imaginary) giant humans to feed the king and queen fairy who were staying at the top of our apple-tree hotel. We left the towel outside to come back in and check on Penelope’s progress.
Thursday was her scheduled shower day. She’d been skipped Sunday, so was eager to get clean, but was second or third in line after other patients. We left her listening to her iPod and chatting with a student CNA, and we went back to the lobby to play.
We didn’t see her get wheeled to the shower room, but I was giving Logan a piggyback ride when Penelope returned. We trotted out to greet her, and I believe she said, “Hi, Logan” before we started chattering about where we were going next. She was wrapped up in white towels, with only her face showing.
Penelope seemed a bit distracted, so we moved outside to the apple tree. While out there, we met a gray and white cat. With much patient coaxing and repeated calls of “kitty, kitty, kitty” in Logan’s high voice, the animal came close enough to be petted. Logan noticed the cat was a drooler, like Lynx at home, who drools while purring. We names her Kitty Yuk because of this.
About 11:15 a.m., as Logan and I brought in the towel to prepare to leave soon to pick up John, we were met outside the main entrance by a social worker.
As we understand it from the social worker and aides, Penelope suffered a panic attack while en route back to her room and she indicated couldn’t breathe. A ‘thump’ was administered to her chest, following procedure to help her breathe again. This didn’t help, and she stopped breathing.
EMS techs were called immediately and administered CPR. John was called at work, He’s the one who suggested they look outside for Logan and me.
One of the aides stayed with Logan in the lobby while I calmly retrieved my bag and keys from the room. The techs and nurses were still working on Penelope as we drove north. I did not indicate to Logan anything other than Penelope had a problem and we were driving up to pick up Poppa a bit early.
John went in first when we returned, and Logan and I chatted with friend Joana in the sitting area.
Minutes later, John emerged and took Logan into his arms, sitting on the floor to tell her Penelope had passed away.
What followed is a blur of phone calls, messages and tears. I did my best to distract Logan, as I’m emotionally distant anyway and it was easier to talk about whether she wanted to walk to the market across the street to find some food.
We did this, commenting on the large fiberglass cow inside the shop, then on the lack of edibles for her. We settled on a hotdog and drink for her, diet caffeine for me, and walked back to the lobby.
Soon, Logan’s best friend, ‘Socks’, and her mother arrived to take Logan on a play date to a nearby park for a couple of hours.
More phone calls, more questions for John and Joana to handle, more waiting. Logan’s teacher, Mrs. M., arrived and learned the bad news. She waited with us before she had to leave, but returned later when Logan was back from the park.
Joana, thank you for feeding us and helping pack up the essentials from the room. We went to Joana and Steve’s house about 4:30 p.m., where Joana produced a vat of sidewalk chalk. After asking what Steve liked, Logan directed me in the art of chalking and blending to make an underwater scene for him while Joana drove to fetch him from work. We knew he liked blues and greens, and seals and dogs. Neither of us could draw a dog, so we settled on the aquatic theme. Logan drew a seal on the rock she directed me to place, then showed me how to mix the colors to make the water blend better and draw fish on top of it. More rocks, more fish, and Steve’s name written across the top of the mural, below Logan’s gray dolphin leaping from the waves. Steve expressed his appreciation when the pair returned home, and admired the streaks of blue chalk that had made it onto our noses, cheeks, hair, arms and clothes.
While we drew, John dealt with more phone calls. We all sat outside to enjoy the cooling evening
after washing off the worst of the chalk. Logan helped them by watering many potted plants, with Auntie Cheryl assisting by holding the hose. Later, Auntie Cheryl was then Logan’s interactive chair while the adults talked.
We decided on sushi for dinner, driving beck to downtown Eugene to Sushi Station. Logan had us sit at the bar an awkward choice for conversation, but much more entertaining in the long run: we could view the conveyor belt of sushi plates as they rolled around the perimeter, snag off edamame and other tidbits as we waiting for our order, then watch the chefs as they created artistic edibles we even took photos of someone else’s order, as it was so pretty.
When Joana commented that sitting five in a row was not conducive to chatting Steve, Joana, John, Logan and Cheryl I suggested we play Telephone to pass along questions and comments. Once Logan learned the game, thanks to some amusing non-sequiturs from Steve, we two enjoyed many more minutes of amusement. The other three tired of it more quickly, but John still passed on Logan’s queries every time she yanked on his shoulder.
Following Joana to her house, driving to the restaurant and then to home, Logan decided Auntie Cheryl was to keep her company in the back seat while Poppa drove.
She plugged in her own iPod and drifted off to heavy slumber halfway through the r
ide home. John, as usual, carried her in to bed.
We spoke briefly about the next day we’ll sleep in, then go in to town so Logan can play with other friends and John can, I hope, attend to whatever other details the nursing home requires.
Friend Alan will fly in Saturday to spend the week. I’m here until the end of the month.
John and I agree we’re OK. Neither of us shows much emotion on our own, but Logan’s tears spur his own. We’ll wait to see how Logan chooses to deal with this, and go from there.
John intends to prepare Logan for the start of school next week. His workplace understands his absence, and have been really great all the way through.
If we do a memorial locally, John might ask if we can do it at Logan’s school. We’ll post details when they’re firm.
I stated this at the beginning of this note, but it’s purely my idea: write to Logan to tell her about her mother. Even if it’s a memory that includes Logan, you perspective might help her remember events. If you have photos you know John doesn’t, share them. At John’s discretion, we’ll post either an e-mail address or a postal address. We don’t need toys or casseroles. What I’d like to see is folder for scrapbooks, or parenting advice for what a single father can expect of a soon-to-be 9-year-old on her way 20 to teenagerdom, Grieve as you need to feel better. Memorials are for the living, as the dead have their own stuff to deal with.
This wasn’t the plan, but John’s dealing with it. If Logan’s OK, he’ll be OK.
–Auntie Cheryl
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