On April 30, the doctors gave Myrtle twenty-four hours to live. Quite a few days have passed since then and she is still with us. I told Myrtle last year that I thought she'd live to be a hundred. She said the Dr. told her the same thing. We were both wrong.
I visited Myrtle Saturday morning and it was a shock to see her. The long flowing gray hair I was so used to seeing was completely gone. Mostly from chemo therapy, I guess, but the last visit she had some hair. The hospital staff thought it would be too difficult to keep clean, so it was removed. It seemed like a violation to me. Myrtle's hair meant so much to her.
While Myrtle was in the hospital after surgery , her niece asked permission to clear out the living room area as she was afraid it wasn't safe. Myrtle knew every item that was contained in the room and had a reason for keeping each article. I was used to seeing Myrtle make her way down a well thought out path from her kitchen table through the living room to answer the door. I saw no danger of Myrtle falling and mentioned that to her niece. " I wouldn't worry about Myrtle falling, there's no place to fall." It was like going down a long corridor of a thrift shop. Myrtle laughed about it. She knew she was a little eccentric.
She gave permission to have the living room cleared but had no idea how far her family would go in this endeavor.
They filled a 25 ton garbage container, had it emptied and filled it again. The family worked to create a home that wasn't Myrtle. Her niece was going through Myrtle's cookbooks and asked me if there was anything I wanted. I mentioned I had a cookbook collection so she gave me a box of cookbooks, ( I planned to return the books to Myrtle). At least I saved a few books from the dumpster.
The action her family took was like telling Myrtle that nothing she treasured was of any value.
When Myrtle arrived home she was in shock. I brought her the cookbooks. She appreciated my effort but was more concerned about her missing Bible.
Myrtle put her hand over her heart and said, "It hurts here".
Myrtle gave me a plant for Christmas, bulbs that would bloom in the Spring. The plants were not doing well indoors so I put them outside. The buds are slow to bloom. I think they're waiting for Myrtle to begin her new life.
When I was at the bank earlier this week Cecil Evoy ( Vice President of bank) a good friend of Myrtle's, began a conversation. Cecil was remembering the first time he ever saw Myrtle. She was driving her little bug down the road past his home. She stopped to tell him that he was putting up his screen door upside down. "And you know, Myrtle was right. What a feisty lady."
That's the Myrtle I remember, independent, opinionated, smart as a whip, kind and thoughtful, never one to waste, a God fearing woman.
Now I see tubes up her nose, another tube dumping bile into a container, her body so thin and weak, needles invading her fragile frame. The fact that she is still hanging on is typical of her strong determined nature.
Myrtle gave me sour dough starter that is over 140 years old. The pioneers brought it with them in a covered wagon. I treasure this gift and as I replenish it I'll remember Myrtle.
I'll miss seeing Myrtle drive down the road in her V.W.
Myrtle was the first owner of this car. She had never driven a car or attempted to learn how to drive. So, she purchased the car first and then learned to drive. She figured it would never get done unless she had a car. That's a gutsy move.
We still have a party line. It won't be the same without Myrtle. We managed to share the line without a problem. If Myrtle was on the line and heard us pick up the phone she would be sure to call and let us know when the line was free. We followed her example. We all learned from Myrtle.
Myrtle attended many of our family gatherings. She sat with the family as honorary Grandmother at the wedding of our daughter, Elizabeth.
Myrtle taught me about native plants found in our woods and gave me advice on planting a garden.
Thursday.....Myrtle died last night. I walked outside to see the miniature daffodils she gave us for Christmas. I knew they would be in full bloom.
I visited Myrtle Saturday morning and it was a shock to see her. The long flowing gray hair I was so used to seeing was completely gone. Mostly from chemo therapy, I guess, but the last visit she had some hair. The hospital staff thought it would be too difficult to keep clean, so it was removed. It seemed like a violation to me. Myrtle's hair meant so much to her.
While Myrtle was in the hospital after surgery , her niece asked permission to clear out the living room area as she was afraid it wasn't safe. Myrtle knew every item that was contained in the room and had a reason for keeping each article. I was used to seeing Myrtle make her way down a well thought out path from her kitchen table through the living room to answer the door. I saw no danger of Myrtle falling and mentioned that to her niece. " I wouldn't worry about Myrtle falling, there's no place to fall." It was like going down a long corridor of a thrift shop. Myrtle laughed about it. She knew she was a little eccentric.
She gave permission to have the living room cleared but had no idea how far her family would go in this endeavor.
They filled a 25 ton garbage container, had it emptied and filled it again. The family worked to create a home that wasn't Myrtle. Her niece was going through Myrtle's cookbooks and asked me if there was anything I wanted. I mentioned I had a cookbook collection so she gave me a box of cookbooks, ( I planned to return the books to Myrtle). At least I saved a few books from the dumpster.
The action her family took was like telling Myrtle that nothing she treasured was of any value.
When Myrtle arrived home she was in shock. I brought her the cookbooks. She appreciated my effort but was more concerned about her missing Bible.
Myrtle put her hand over her heart and said, "It hurts here".
Myrtle gave me a plant for Christmas, bulbs that would bloom in the Spring. The plants were not doing well indoors so I put them outside. The buds are slow to bloom. I think they're waiting for Myrtle to begin her new life.
When I was at the bank earlier this week Cecil Evoy ( Vice President of bank) a good friend of Myrtle's, began a conversation. Cecil was remembering the first time he ever saw Myrtle. She was driving her little bug down the road past his home. She stopped to tell him that he was putting up his screen door upside down. "And you know, Myrtle was right. What a feisty lady."
That's the Myrtle I remember, independent, opinionated, smart as a whip, kind and thoughtful, never one to waste, a God fearing woman.
Now I see tubes up her nose, another tube dumping bile into a container, her body so thin and weak, needles invading her fragile frame. The fact that she is still hanging on is typical of her strong determined nature.
Myrtle gave me sour dough starter that is over 140 years old. The pioneers brought it with them in a covered wagon. I treasure this gift and as I replenish it I'll remember Myrtle.
I'll miss seeing Myrtle drive down the road in her V.W.
Myrtle was the first owner of this car. She had never driven a car or attempted to learn how to drive. So, she purchased the car first and then learned to drive. She figured it would never get done unless she had a car. That's a gutsy move.
We still have a party line. It won't be the same without Myrtle. We managed to share the line without a problem. If Myrtle was on the line and heard us pick up the phone she would be sure to call and let us know when the line was free. We followed her example. We all learned from Myrtle.
Myrtle attended many of our family gatherings. She sat with the family as honorary Grandmother at the wedding of our daughter, Elizabeth.
Myrtle taught me about native plants found in our woods and gave me advice on planting a garden.
Thursday.....Myrtle died last night. I walked outside to see the miniature daffodils she gave us for Christmas. I knew they would be in full bloom.
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