Finality

The evening before my father died (which was in fact after my intoxicating sunshine day), my sister and I decided to meet and hang out with Dad for a bit.  She could fill me in on the happenings of the week - which was a shitty week for sure.  It was rough for her and Allana and Mom, spending nights sleeping at the hospital, not sleeping, watching Dad slip further and further into a state of non-responsiveness.

But on this night, Jacqueline decided that we were going to have a living wake.  So she brought martini glasses and we had white chocolate martinis at Dad's bedside while watching the sun set over the lake and listening to his music on the radio.  It was a wonderous feeling.  Dad had been unresponsive to me all day but as he lay in his bed on his left side facing the window, there was a strange sense of calm.  Dad looked very relaxed and peaceful.  I was prepared to stay the night, but after Jacqueline and I talked, we decided that he was in VERY good hands with two of his favourite 'nurse angels'.  I talked to Dad at various times during the day, telling him about our trip to Myrtle Beach, thanking him for sticking around for me but, I also gave him permission to go.  I told him it was time to go and explore his next adventure, give them trouble where ever he went.  I expressed to him that the kids would be ok.  Zac would grow up and achieve things we never thought he would achieve and that Andrew would be the best that he could be and that he would be 'great' - as Dad always said he would.

Dad died peacefully at 3:15am.  The first day of spring.  I'd like to think that he was hanging on this past week to hear from me one more time as I said I would return on this day, but I rather think it was because we had decided to disengage the defibrillator portion of Dad's pacemaker as it was giving him great discomfort over the past few days.

We got the call at 3:20am. The rest of the day seems so clear but was really a blur until you realize it's 11:30pm and you've been up for almost 20 hours.  Things that happened in the morning feel like they happened yesterday.  The 'process' of dealing with a deceased family member seems SO SURREAL!  Like you're in the movies.  At times it feels quite callous, superficial, like it really isn't happening.  But it is....

There are many phone calls that day.  Incoming and outgoing.  My toughest phone call is to Andrew. Knowing what a special bond he had with his Opa, I know that this news will be particularly crushing for my kid.  And while I stay matter of fact on the phone with him, I have so much hurt in my heart and I know I can't cry at that moment, because I know it would be difficult for me to stop.  And I am sorry I can't be there to give him a big hug, hold him and tell him that Opa loved him very much.

Crying....I'm not much of a crier....never have been.  Maybe a little more lately and for sure more now since I've had children (hormones).  But damn!  There was a lot of crying today....which I found unexpected, at various times and for a wide variety of reasons.

I was grateful that I could be there for mom, to help her field phone calls and just keep it together in general.  Then there's the trip to the funeral home in the afternoon and a whole shit-tonne of decisions to be made.  One should not be making decisions on 3 hours of sleep after a loved one has died.  It just doesn't make sense.  And I find it strange the funeral business has to work so damn quickly.....what's the rush?  The person is dead....

There is also humour during the day.  I've said it before, that laughter is very important.  It's something our family does so that things don't get too somber or morose.  Yuck, who wants that?
Dad was quite liked by the staff at the Haliburton Hospital.  The nurses could generally get a smile out of dad each day and visa versa.  Dad was larger than life, even at his sickest.  When the funeral home finally picked Dad up from the hospital, Carol was right on the ball and captured the fact that Dad had a big personality by saying, "GINO HAS LEFT THE BUILDING'!  It was very fitting.

I had MANY people share their kind comforting words with me that day as they too have experienced the loss of a parent.  The one comment that stands out the most for me is from my friend Joyce who said that while we knew his death was not unexpected, the finality of his passing is what is so difficult to accept.

The sadness continues but healing and acceptance has now got to begin.

Intoxicating Sunshine

I've had 10 wonderful days of drinks, sand, sun, friends, and hanging with Andrew.

I sit now again at my father's bedside, being a presence, talking to his far away conscience while his room is flooded with glorious sunshine.  You know, one of those days that Dad and I would have gone outside to enjoy.  One of those days I would have had to try not to get him sunburned.

The crystal that Mom has hung in Dad's window is showering his bed in a sea of colours.  Spots of rainbows all over.  It feels primitive, the sun.  Energy, the basic unit of life.  The sun shines on the beautiful rose that mom brought.  The rose with it's deep deep velvety red colour, that sits watch over Dad, undaunted in it's task.

We naturally crave sunlight.  Those of us that live in Canada travel to warmer climes so that we can fill our souls and rejuvenate all of the sunshine that we have been deprived over our long winter.  I sit in the sun....it makes me sleepy....it is truly intoxicating.  I get tanned so I feel better, radiant.

Sunlight....it opposes darkness.

My Mom was very lucky this morning.  The sun was bright and warm, and after another sleepless night at Dad's bedside, as mom was driving home from the hospital, the intoxicating sunshine lulled her into a sleepy state and she decided that the road was no longer a suitable surface to drive on....so she went for the snowbank.  I am glad that there still WAS a snowbank.  The car came to rest very precariously on the side of the hill of snow.  All is well, Mom was not hurt, only shaken up, a lot.  She's pissed about the damage to the car, but we are all very happy that she was not injured.  I'm not sure that this family could take much more in the way of tragedy....

Intoxicating....

I feel intoxicated...and no, it's not from all of the drinking with friends this past week.  Intoxicated from this process of dying.  Not understanding it, being overwhelmed by it, never knowing what to think about it.

As I stand in the late afternoon sun shining into Dad's room, I have a thought.  Death seems to be a force...with energy....I just can't explain it.

I am happy to have had my sunshine intoxication this past week....I am glad the sun shines today.

Death, morphine, sunshine and laughter

Oh what a strange 36 hours this has been.  (Written Thursday March 9th)

Mom and I received a very early phone call from the hospital that Dad had suffered a stroke and we were to come as soon as possible.  Not quite sure how I managed to get dressed...or even put my contacts in.  Shaky hands make those tasks quite difficult, especially the contacts.

Mom and I made it to Haliburton within the hour.  This is quite the feat considering Mom is diabetic and needs to eat and shoot up before we leave....and if you know my mother, eating is not her favourite thing to do, especially before 8am 9am.  The sun was very bright and warming as we drove.  I was a little pissed that the sun decided to shine today...I had wanted sun earlier in the week so I could take my chances at giving Dad another sunburn.  Did I mention the sun was very bright?  It was one of those mornings where it was almost difficult to look at the sparkle of the water because it was so bright.  But I was grateful for the sunshine.

So this was it.  This was the day I was going to lose my father.  Doc was very clinical about the fact that Dad is suffering a brain bleed and we had choices....ultimately our decision was to not go to any extreme measures and to keep Dad as comfortable as we could.  Keeping Dad comfortable included injections of morphine!  The morphine did it's job and Dad slept all day.  He had a pained look on his face for most of the day.  He wasn't moving, I couldn't understand what he was saying...at all....but a few people managed to get a smile out of him.

Many people came to give us support and give Dad hugs.  It was a long day....a very long and uncertain day, but with the long day came visible signs of improvement by Dad.  Shortly after dinner Dad's face no longer looked pained and he was resting comfortably.  Someone took Mom home (can't remember) - Mom needed to rest.  A long and tiring day causes her blood sugars to go all out of whack.  Allana (my niece) brought us dinner.  Feels weird setting up Dad's hospital table with a potluck type of spread....but then I realize, we still have to eat.  We are still in need of giving ourselves nourishment to face the days to come.

Dad continues to rest peacefully so at about 10:30 I send my sister home so she can get rest.  Dad is looking relaxed and sleeping very comfortably...so I didn't feel like we were in any danger of losing Dad this night.  However, I committed to staying so that he would have company through the night.  All of the nurses have been super helpful all day and our long time family friend/nurse Carol, made sure that we were looked after with a recline type chair, blankets and pillows.  So I cozied up beside my father's bed and watched him sleep; kept an eye on his breathing, listened to him puff relaxed breaths.  I didn't want to turn off the light....I wouldn't be able to see him then.  I did eventually find Dad's nightlight and kept that on for the night.  I felt like I do when I'm watching Zac sleep after he's been sick...a parent watching their ill child....except the rolls have now been reversed.  How often had Dad taken care of me while I had been sick?  How many sleepless nights had he experienced worrying about me?

So...we slept...he more than I but I still managed.

I knew Dad was feeling better early the next morning when, while wetting his mouth with one of those little mouth sponges, he almost sucked the sponge right off the stick!  This was repeated several times over the next couple of hours until I was given permission to give Dad sips of water through a straw!  What a remarkable turn-around!  His face was relaxed, he didn't look distant and foggy, he was clear and focused.  The best part of the morning was when Dad tried to say something to me...I had to have him repeat it 5 times because of his weak voice and his lack of teeth...but he said, "water is such a precious commodity?"  What the hell??  DAD!!!!  Precious commodity??  With no teeth?  That was a tough one to decipher.

Wow...what an incredible morning.  Dad actually has a bit of a glint in his eyes...somewhat of a mischievous look about him.  Nurse asks how he is, and he just shrugs and raises an eyebrow as if to say "Meh...been better".

"Dad, can I get you anything?"  "A nice cold beer...." he says quietly and longingly.  Seriously??

Doc comes in and asks him to raise his left arm, squeeze his left fist together...and he does it!  Doc is stunned...isn't as worried as he was yesterday and doesn't quite know what's going on in Dad's brain...but there IS something going on. 

At some point, Dad asks for his teeth back in, sometime before lunch.  He also purses his lips...like a kiss...3 or 4 times.  I ask if they are dry and if he would like some sort of chapstick on.  He says yes.  But the whole action is hilarious to me and very surreal, considering yesterday, we thought he was going to die.  

The physiotherapist comes in...WHAT??  He was on his deathbed yesterday and now it's time for a bit of exercise?  Ok, what the hell....

It continues to be a busy day of of people streaming in and out.  Dad is like a little kid.  In between visits, I tell Dad to close his eyes and rest....so he closes them...and then peeks through one to check if I'm looking at him....and then closes it and opens the other and keeps switching between eyes.  I am seriously wondering if the morphine is causing him to act like this.  But I don't think so...I think this is just his impish self showing through, and my heart is filled to the brim with love for this man.  I smiled many many times that day.

Dad actually had an appetite today.  He hasn't eaten in 3 days.  I heard his stomach growl.  So he had applesauce for breakfast, soup and mushed pasta for lunch.  And then....later in the afternoon... I tried to kill him with a potato chip.  Not just any potato chip...but my chip of choice:  Miss Vickies sea salt and malt vinegar chips!  He was looking at me enviously, as I munched a chip.  Like a kid.  "What do you need Dad?"  "One of those chips" he replied.  So, I gave him one.  And he made it through the first 3 (small) chips just fine....I shouldn't have offered him the fourth.  It was a that moment he started to choke....probably from the tartness of the vinegar.  OH NO!  HE'S MADE A MIRACULOUS TURN AROUND AND I'M GOING TO KILL HIM WITH A FUCKING POTATO CHIP!  Or at least cause pneumonia....wtf.  But, he made it through, after about 10min...no more potato chips for you!

Well, my week came to a close with Dad.  I told him several times that day, just so that he would remember, that I was leaving to take Andrew on our yearly trip to Myrtle Beach and that I wouldn't see him for a week.  He smiled each time and said have fun.  I said 3 times, "I love you Dad"....and he said, "I love you too...."  So I took my leave and drove home, my heart full of love, my eyes full of tears, my head full of memories.

Lots more living to do before thinking about dying...

It is easy to slip into a kind of funk while sitting in the hospital surrounded by the elderly.  I can't decide whether it is depressing or soul-filling.  I try not to fall into the trap of wallowing in the sadness that envelops this place.  I have to keep reminding myself that this is a process.  This is what getting old is about.  It's about living life to it's fullest.  The question is....how do we, in this western society, grow old with class, with dignity, with pride.....with grace?

Everyone here has a story...where have they been, what kind of mischief has each one gotten into in their lives.  So many stories....and I bet if they are like my dad, each one has some very interesting stories indeed!  Who documents these stories?  I bet nurses meet some fascinating individuals...

Anyone who knows me, knows I've asked this question...how am I going to continue to live the best life I can live.  How can I be the best human that I can be?  Alternatively, I need to ask myself more often...what kind of mischief can I get myself into?  I've already discussed earlier trying to find the wonder in each day...how will I find the laughter?  We need to laugh more....as humans.  Not be so damn serious all the time.  My students think their world is falling apart for the smallest of things....

On another note...as I sit here keeping Dad company, I am joyfully watching George eat EVERYTHING that he is served for dinner.  Good God the man must be hungry!  He has meticulously opened the sugar packet and emptied that into his mouth.  He looked quite pleased and a little surprized that it was sweet.  The salt was next!  Not such a pleasing face, and....last but not least, the pepper was greeted with a bit of a coughing fit an almost sneeze and a runny nose...but he got it all packed away!  Damn!  THAT, was my chuckle for the day.  Gotta love me some George.

Here's to LIVING each day....

Sounds and smells

Today I am keeping company with my very very tired father.  He has been napping for most of the day.  Very thirsty, no appetite.  It's tough to see him like this.  No love for the coffee I brought this morning, no yearning for a nice flaky croissant.  So, I sit and make him as comfortable with blankets and drinks as I can.

I am sitting beside Dad's bed, he sits in his chair leaving the bed empty.  It's a special mattress that is constantly inflated with air to prevent Dad from getting (more) bedsores.  He's so skinny that the extra padding is a wonderful relief to his aching bones.  So I am sitting beside the hum of the pump....it's lulling me into a sleepy mode.  Good white noise.  It's good that George is deaf so he can't hear the hum.  The hum is decidedly better than the constant noise of the construction going on all around us.  Floors, drywall, painting, trucks outside it goes on and on.

I listen to Dad snore, George whistles as he schleps down the hall, Joe moans and groans to try and communicate, and still there is the hum of the mattress pump.

Which brings us to smells.....holy Jesus! Walking into a hospital is an olfactory onslaught very much like stepping foot into an elementary school after a wet, warm spring day.  *Barf*  Last week I had the pleasure of doing both all week.  Please realized that I am a hypersensitive person (I keep saying to my friends that I'm sensitive and they laugh - I'm not sure why...) so I can smell things.  My sister has the same keen sense of smell....like a tracking dog, she can smell a french fry stand from a mile away!  Haha!  She'll kill me for that one.

So walking into this hospital daily brings about a nasal battering...antiseptic, urine, poop, other bodily fluids, and some indistinguishable combination of floor cleaner and flowers...I think.  Each day I visit Dad I bring coffee, mostly for us both to enjoy but it's also a wonderful way of blocking the smells.  I got into habit last week of stopping at the convenience store in Carnarvon.  I would go in and buy a small bag of Miss Vickies sea salt and malt vinegar chips and a can of diet Coke.  At first I thought it was to keep me awake....but then I realized it was to disinfect my nasal passages from the hospital smell and to prepare myself for the wet, soaking, sweaty boot, sock stank of the elementary school where I picked up Zac.  Oh god those chips were cathartic!  By the end of the week I said fuck it and bought a big bag!

The onslaught to my nose didn't stop with hospital and Zac's school.  I was able to take Andrew to a badminton tournament this weekend.  Have you ever smelled wet, sweaty, gym shoes that don't have a chance to dry and the stinky feet that come out of them?  Do all teenage boys have sweaty, clammy, gross smelling feet?  DAMN!

It's time for a walk....I'll see what other sounds and smells I will come across today.

Routine and the joy of coffee!

What a stark contrast today's weather is to the past 2 days.  Dark, dreary, rain, warmish and foggy.  This will give way tonight to freezing temps and more snow.  I had hoped we would be getting rid of the snow at this point.  The weather has been good for driving.  I appreciate that.

I don't look at the scenery today.  I don't find myself scanning the roadside vistas for anything interesting as the light is flat and dull.  The one amazing piece I see is when I pass Boshkung Lake...the fog has enveloped the distant shores and just left white sky with white snow and some black trees in the foreground.  It's quite stunning.

Dad and I are developing quite a routine.  He is awake today when I get to his room and he smiles and his face lights up when he notices that I have brought hot coffee.  He asks if there is something to nibble on....I brighten his day once more when I tell him I have also brought a croissant with me that he can dip into his coffee.  Often, Dad can't wait to have the coffee but it is always too hot!  I have to distract him so it can cool off.  Eventually we get to dipping and sipping without spilling or burning.

Yesterday Dad was moved back into the room with the view of the bright blue tarp that covers the fence outside of his window.  It's not a bad room, kind of away from the general noise of the nurses station.  Not that noise matters anyways.  Dad shares his room with very old George.  He's a quirky kinda guy.  Not unpleasant, but not too social either.  Dad was with George before and when Dad would be out of the room George would take to making sure Dad's bed was neatly made.  I'm not quite sure if George missed Dad when he was taken to a different room for 5 days.

We move all of Dad's things into his space by the blue tarped window and I notice that George has Dad's TV on and has absconded with both TV remotes.  Ha!  Apparently George shops around on his wanderings around the hospital.  A week or so ago, Dad's magazines went missing.  George had stashed them in his side table!  I try not to be too obtrusive to George when I visit Dad because this is his 'home' too.

I reflect on this yesterday....hospital for health or death...tough call.  Tough place to work.  Can't imagine.  It's time again to take Dad for a tour...perhaps a run through the drizzle.  Heat up his cold coffee and give him the last of his croissant to enjoy before I have to go and pick up the kids.

It's been a good day...again.