(no subject)
So maybe I'll use this LJ as a way to actually process these end-of-life times with Dad....
He pitched such a fit at Santa Teresa about being moved for the third time that they sent him home a day ahead of schedule, which was followed by two weeks of abject misery on his part... feeling like crap, then like more crap, than worse crap, until his cardiologist came back from vacation and said hey now, this isn't right, and packed him off to the hospital again. Well, actually, Mom packed him off to the ER at 4 a.m. last Thursday (I think) after he got to feeling so craptacular that she loaded him into the car on (her) four hours' sleep. This after an evening spent with the neighbors over for dinner, so them cooking a meal and preparing for guests, followed by Dad making it through about three bites before he "retired for the night," leaving Mom with the rest of entertaining the Jenkses and then cleaning up. Turns out his kidneys were teetering on failure thanks to the massive diuretics designed to clear fluid from his lungs (and everything else). Now he's resolved to stay in the hospital until such time as the medical deities deem him fit to go home, which should be today, I think.
It is mind-boggling to consider that my father will actually die. We've known this was coming for, oh, the last 10 years or so, what with repeated heart issues, falls, etc etc., but to look at it as happening within months rather than years is just very peculiar. It's simultaneously heart-breaking and frustrating, because it feels to me as if there were so many changes he might have made that would have prolonged his life AND improved its quality.... better diet, less booze, better attitude.... and he chose not to implement any such changes. I grieve for Mom, too, who will have to figure out what to do with herself after 54 years of marriage. I think she is far more rattled than she lets on.
So many details to attend to, so many things that must be
He pitched such a fit at Santa Teresa about being moved for the third time that they sent him home a day ahead of schedule, which was followed by two weeks of abject misery on his part... feeling like crap, then like more crap, than worse crap, until his cardiologist came back from vacation and said hey now, this isn't right, and packed him off to the hospital again. Well, actually, Mom packed him off to the ER at 4 a.m. last Thursday (I think) after he got to feeling so craptacular that she loaded him into the car on (her) four hours' sleep. This after an evening spent with the neighbors over for dinner, so them cooking a meal and preparing for guests, followed by Dad making it through about three bites before he "retired for the night," leaving Mom with the rest of entertaining the Jenkses and then cleaning up. Turns out his kidneys were teetering on failure thanks to the massive diuretics designed to clear fluid from his lungs (and everything else). Now he's resolved to stay in the hospital until such time as the medical deities deem him fit to go home, which should be today, I think.
It is mind-boggling to consider that my father will actually die. We've known this was coming for, oh, the last 10 years or so, what with repeated heart issues, falls, etc etc., but to look at it as happening within months rather than years is just very peculiar. It's simultaneously heart-breaking and frustrating, because it feels to me as if there were so many changes he might have made that would have prolonged his life AND improved its quality.... better diet, less booze, better attitude.... and he chose not to implement any such changes. I grieve for Mom, too, who will have to figure out what to do with herself after 54 years of marriage. I think she is far more rattled than she lets on.
So many details to attend to, so many things that must be