TW: death/dying
This year started like any other. As middle aged adults the most my husband and I can hope for is to make it until midnight to see the fireworks on TV. We then trudge off to bed to sleep until the early morning hours when inevitably a little voice will wake us entirely too early to ask to play on an electronic device. And it happened as such this January, and all was well.
On February 15, 2024, my dad called to tell me my mother was acting strange. The last time he called to tell me this she had been taken by ambulance and found to have suffered a massive stroke 3 years prior. Naturally I went into medical mode, and now, much closer in distance, raced to their home. The short of it is that both of my parents had become ill with Influenza at a musical show. This affected my mother’s nervous system and caused her to have a seizure. A few days later my dad was also hospitalized with low oxygen. He was discharged home but not for long as he did not fare well with my mother still in rehabilitation.
My dad ended up in kidney failure and was re-hospitalized, and was ultimately told he would need dialysis for the remainder of his life. He would do anything to continued to live his life, and so he resigned to attending the outpatient dialysis center 3 times a week. It was taxing on him, but he made it through. Over the summer my mom suffered another seizure resulting in another month long hospitalization, my dad following suit with another short stint himself. Needless to say I was exhausting myself at this point, running between work and kids to check on the two of them.
At the start of the fall all seemed quiet. My dad had begun outpatient pulmonary rehab and his strength appeared to be returning. He had my mom were doing well at home. I was busy taking her to follow up appointments but still made time to have them over for dinner to spend time with their grandkids. I have learned to be weary when things seem happy and content. Every time I think to myself: finally, I can relax, it all goes wrong.
On October 13 my dad felt weak, tired, he lost his appetite, his heartrate had been elevated for days and wouldn’t return to normal levels. At the advice of his doctor I drove him to the ER. On the way, I lectured him on his life choices as he continued to eat foods that went against his cardiac diet and he wasn’t taking his medications properly. He jumped out of my car and sent me home not wanting me to wait with him. Two days later they emergently had to sedate him and put in a breathing tube because he was retaining too much carbon dioxide. In that moment I feared that my conversation in the car was the last time I would have talked to him. The doctors came in each day and warned me his condition was precarious, with his heart only functioning at 10%. Our family began to prepare for the worst.
On Friday the 18th they planned to remove his breathing tube, but not before asking me to decide if it should not work, if we wanted him re-intubated. My mother left me with this decision as her aphasia from her stroke has left her with difficulties understanding complex situations. I finally elected to say no, and as they removed the breathing tube I had a panic attack in the hallway of the critical care unit. Until this moment I hadn’t shown outward emotion in front of anyone. I am always able to hold myself together until I’m alone. But there are times when there is such a surge, a thrust of gut wrenching pent-up feeling that bursts through even the toughest of walls.
The extubation was successful, but he was still weak. The doctors made every attempt to wean him from the medications and machines that were supporting him so that he could leave the CCU and move forward, as it was his wish to survive to be with my mom. I asked them to be straight with us and him, to assist us with this decision if his prognosis should be poor, because I wanted him to make it with me. I couldn’t bear to push him into something like ending his life without his full cooperation.
On Friday, October 25, my dad looked at me and said, “I can’t live this way, I’ve had enough.” I know it was selfish, but I needed him to say it. Never once was he confused and not of sound mind, so I needed him to be able to tell me he was ready, and he came around full circle at the end. They dont warn you that just because you shut the machines off the person doesn’t pass right away. But I promised to keep him comfortable. I promised I wouldn’t let him suffer. He gave me his list of wishes. He told me who to give his belongings to. He continued to make jokes with the nurses. He told my kids he loved them so much. He told my mom, sister and me he loved us too.
On Monday October 28, as I held his hand, my daddy took his last breaths. I don’t wish those moments on anyone. But I knew I could be strong and quiet for him. My dad and I didn’t have a strong loving relationship like you see on TV. But he did his best, and he knows I did too. And at the end none of it mattered, except that we had each other.
He taught me so many things. He also had an affect on so many in the community. One of his favorite sayings was “you get what you get.” And its true, you only have so much in this life, but, that doesn’t mean it isn’t great and beautiful and wonderful. So, I will add, you get what you get and its up to you to find the meaning in it all.
I’ll miss him for the rest of my life. He was my dad, a funny, generous, frustrating, loving, imperfect human being. If we can leave people behind who will remember and miss us, carry on our jokes and sayings and continue to teach our lessons, that’s all we can ask for.
