The last week with Daddy was great in so many little ways and so sad in so many others. On Monday we really thought that things were turning around because he'd held on to his platelets all weekend long. Daddy and I went to the grocery store after treatment and he fell...or at least I thought that he fell. He said that his knee gave out but now looking back I know that it was his blood pressure that dropped to rock bottom.
He'd been having trouble sleeping and the Dr. perscribed him some very mild sleeping pills. He took them but he told the Dr. that they made him very unsteady...this was also his blood pressure dropping.
Tuesday found us back at treatment with a schedule for an MRI on Friday. Wednesday during treatment his Dr. asked to see me without him. I made an excuse to him that it was probably about the MRI and she told me that his kidney function was getting very bad. There are numbers that are involved in the whole equation but I couldn't tell you what they were. I told her that he was not ready to hear this news and she said that I needed to prepare him. I chose not to because I had a feeling that it would not go over well and that he might just throw in the towel. So when I returned back to him I told him that it was indeed about the MRI. On Thursday while in treatment she called me me once again to her office and told me that he either needed to be admitted to the hospital that afternoon or go home to hospice. I asked her if we could set up hospice for home and she agreed.
I called my brother and sister before I went back to him in treatment and asked if they could come to the hospital while the Dr. spoke with daddy and they both were able to leave work and come. Before we went back to the Dr.s office I pulled Daddy off to a quiet corner of the hospital and told him that things were not looking very good. I explained that his kidneys were beginning to shut down. He looked at me with such a childlike expression and asked, "Would it help if I drank more water?" I said, "No, daddy, it's gone too far." And I started to cry. My brother and sister arrived right about that time and we went into the Dr.'s office. She explained what was going on and that she wanted to admit him to the hospital. Of course he flately refused and said that he wanted to think about it. He also wanted to have the MRI the next day and that he would make up his mind about what he would do by then. We decided to go out to dinner at his favorite Mexican restaurant. He ate his favorite meal and drank a beer and then he and my brother drove to his house where my brother stayed the night with him. My brother was going to take him to the MRI and I would meet them at the house as soon as I had finished running errands for him. I was just finished with the first errand when I got a call from my brother. They were at the MRI place and he thought that maybe daddy had had a stroke. I was across town but told him that I would get there just as fast as I could.
I distinctly remember pulling up to the intersection where the MRI place was and upon seeing the ambulance and firetruck and thinking...those are for my father and tearing up. It was beginning to dawn on me that we were losing him and soon.
I got into the building, told them who I was and they led me back. EMS personnel assured me that he had not had a stroke but that his blood pressure had bottomed out. My brother was very scared but was pulling it together. They explained that they needed to take him to the hospital and we could ride along or just follow along. They would take good care of him along the way and both my brother and I would follow. We spoke in the parking lot and decided to call my younger brother and get him on a plane. We knew that daddy might last the weekend but probably not much past that.
So they take him to the emergency room and of course it takes at least 6 hours to find a room but we finally got one and when we got him settled the Dr. came in and asked him what he wanted to do. He said, 'I want to go home and have them take care of me (pointing to us)". The Dr. told him that he was going to require more care than we could give him and that he really needed to either be in the hospital or have hospice. He still wasn't getting it truly...but can you blame him?
He reluctantly chose home and hospice and we all stayed and got him settled in for the night.
I left the hospital around 7, daddy had eaten and was watching FOX news and although he was restless he didn't seem to be in any pain or discomfort. My brother texted me about 8:30 and said that daddy had been restless but had fallen asleep and he was headed home. He would be back the next morning to stay with daddy while he got discharged and I was going to be at daddys to take apart his bed (hospice was bringing a hospital bed) and get his house ready for someone else to stay in. My sister decided to stay the night at the last minute and so she settled in for the night.
I got home, filled my husband in on what had transpired (I'd called him previously) and got a beer and went to bed. I knew that somehow I would be heading back into town sooner rather than later.
Next thing I knew was that my husband was shaking me awake and telling me we had to get dressed and get into town. My sister had texted him (knowing me like she does) and I was up and dressed in about 10 seconds. As we got in the truck...I said to my husband...He's gone....I can feel it....he's gone....
I guess that I could have called my sister to confirm but we headed into town...in silence. My husband knows me so well and knows that there are times when I just like to have it quiet to think and he gave me that time.
When I got up to the floor and his room and opened the door. It was confirmed...he was indeed gone. My sister and I dissolved into tears and held a little pity party for a few moments. I asked if my older brother knew, Chickie said yes and that he was on his way to the airport to pick up Chris. The nurses were wonderful and the funeral home was called. We waited until Chris arrived and we had a little time together as a family and then we all went home. Of course I couldn't sleep so I drank a couple of beers, took a shower and headed back into town. We needed to get his uniform to the cleaners, we needed to let his neighbors know, we needed to start making phone calls and we needed to just be together.
Chickie said that Daddy's breathing changed about 10:30 and a nurse came it and repositioned his oxygen and his breathing became regular again. It once again changed and woke her up about 12:35 a.m. and a nurse came in and said , "You know what this mean?", Chickie said, "Is he dying?", the nurse said, Yes, Chickie said, when?, the nurse said, "now". And he was gone. Chickie said it was peaceful and his eyes were closed. He didn't wince or look like he was any kind of pain, it was over before it sunk in that this was it. I couldn't have asked for anything any better for him. His Dr. told me the next day that she felt that he'd made up his mind to go because he didn't want to go home and have strangers in his home. I agreed with her. I made the rounds to the 2 infusion rooms to let them know and they all cried with me. Those women who work those rooms are incredible...they lose people all the time and they go into work every single day with a smile on their face. I have so much admiration for them. Not a job that I would want to do. Special people indeed.
I must say that I am so proud of my sister and brothers. We have pulled together and gotten it done. We knew that he wanted to be buried in his uniform and he also wanted to be buried with his model of the F105 that he got from General Dynamics. It's a metal model and he'd told me a long time ago he wanted to be buried with it. We decided that we wanted to have a military funeral. Flag draped coffin, 21 gun salute, taps and a fly over. And we got it all. The fly over was the most moving. Confederate Air Force did it for only gas money. It was worth every penny and for 4 planes and 2 pass overs it was $700.00. We thought that it was more than reasonable. We would have paid more.
I'm feeling adrift so to speak. My parents are gone, both of them. Who do I report to now? I mean I'm almost 60 years old and I still feel like I need my parents guidance. And I'm a little afraid that when all is done with the estate that I'll really breakdown. We've been so busy taking care of stuff that it's been easy to be distracted by the fact that they are no longer here. And their stuff...all their stuff. We've all been able to take the things that we want but we can't take everything. There is so much, and so many memories...everything I picked up held a memory. It's a very strange place to be.
When I started this blog about 3 years ago...it was to help chronicle first my father's and then both of my parents illnessess. And now it's over, they are gone. This is a completely new area for me and I'm not sure if I have anything left to say. I'm going to take a little break and see if I have more to share about this new place that I am in and weather or not I will continue.
