
A year ago at this time there was a lot going on. my son had just graduated, my daughter survived her first year of high school, my neighbor was wanting to divorce her husband and I was her confidant...which was hard...my husband and I had just moved my dad to a different town and then my husband and I decided we would move close to my dad to help him out.
During all of it my dad broke a rib and got pneumonia. I moved in with him till he could get better. One night I had to call 911 and they hauled him to the ER. I figured they heal him up and we'd get on with things like his garden, etal. The doctor put him in the hospital and then a specialist called me in to tell me and Dad that he had congestive heart failure and his heart was only working at 15%. dad sat there with the goofiest looks on his face and grinning. Didn't he get it? Well, in his mind, he had been living with the CHF for many years and was still alive and this wouldn't get him. out in the hall the specialist told me that he would be gone by morning and called colleagues to come and see true heart failure in action(my words, not his). after three days Dad went to a convalescent home and after five days we were home with Hospice care. He still wouldn't accept that he was dying, even though he told the Hospice ladies that he understood.
After a week, he felt he could do anything and hated that he couldn't walk without me , with arms under his armpits, carrying him around. Thank goodness he let me bring in a wheelchair. I would wheel him from room to room. We had fun with that. Before long, dad was seeing things and talking to the air and things like the light on the smoke alarm. One night he sat up in his bed and started writing about six dogs in the house barking and that they were so loud and that they were in the oven and needed to get out, so I ran into the kitchen opened and closed the oven loudly so he'd hear it and told him they were out. then he said they were too loud and he was panicking, so i ran to the front door opened it, loudly told them to get out and shut the door. i told dad that they were gone and it would be quiet now, so he laid down and went to sleep.
the nights were the worst. He would get up from bed and think he could walk alone and fall. He hit his head on the door jamb so hard one night that I called 911 again. they came and checked him out and put him back into bed for me and left, well damnit all, he still had to pee so got up and went down again! By then my husband came to help me and we got him up and onto the potty chair. we also had him in a hospital bed. He liked that.
After that the Hospice ladies put a catheter to work and Dad was set. He was happy camper.
He never moved after that. In fact, he kinda went into what I call a coma. I had to prop him with pillows and roll him side to side all day. I talked to him, put in his favorite westerns for him to hear. i know he liked them because he would frown if I turned them off to soon and he smiled and even directed the band once. He never made a sound or opened his eyes.
He lived two more weeks after that. I was his nurse 24 hrs a day. My husband came every day and the kids came to help me when they could...remember they were still in another town finishing up important times in their lives.
Dad was 82 and couldn't speak. He'd had his voice box removed 18 years earlier from cancer. He wrote messages until he couldn't remember how anymore. i for some reason, was able to understand him through his gestures and faces...and i just seemed to know what he wanted. he was a grumpy old fart at times, but I just let him get mad and then he would feel better. Damn, he was dying he could do what he wanted.
The day he died, I couldn't warm him, touching his hand didn't get any responses. Hospice came and gave him a sponge bath and then the nurse came and let me know he only had hours, so i called everyone and sat with him. i saw him take his last breath and clocked the time. i called my sis and let her call the others. I was done for the day. My daughter came in and she was ready to read to her grandpa, but I told her he was gone.
Oh and the tractor...that was his pride and joy. i had to check on it several times a day and it was parked outside his bedroom window so he could see it. He loved and worried about that darn tractor. it is sitting outside my sons window now.
dads on my counter...I talk to him. I miss him and I've been getting a little depressed again. It'll be a year on July 11...my back still hurts.
Take care...