(no subject)
So, last Monday my dad passed away. We went to visit the Friday before, and he was actually doing okay. I spoke to the doctor who said he had been breathing well (even though they had moved him to the ICU because they were worried he was having trouble breathing) and they thought he would be able to improve on his own without a liver transplant. Great news! He was still pretty out of it and confused, and his arms were strapped down with padded gloves on to ensure he didn't pull anything out (feeding tube, catheter, and so on). We got to talk to him a little, though. We left to go eat and an hour or two later the doctor called me again. They had drained fluid from his abdomen (paracentesis - 3.5 liters!) and they decided to check his throat too and decided he wasn't clearing it well enough and they gave him a breathing tube. We came back and he was sedated from the intubation, not that you can talk with a breathing tube anyway. We visited again Saturday and he seemed just as sedated, though I don't think he was anymore. He just seemed out of it.
I didn't visit Sunday since I figured it would be more of the same - him not even awake. Barb texted me at some point saying they had put him on dialysis as his kidneys weren't functioning well. I regret not stopping in because early Monday morning - like 3:00am - they started calling me and I started missing it because the alarm was set on my phone and it silences it. I woke up at 8:15 to 13 missed calls and numerous texts. His blood pressure crashed during the night and they were keeping it up with medication but I needed to get there immediately. John and I threw on clothes and went to the hospital, me calling my sister and mother frantically to get them to come, too. When I got there he was already not there, he was bleeding internally and it was seeping out of his mouth. The doctor said he wasn't in pain but there wasn't anything to do. I talked to him alone for a little while anyway, telling him I would make him proud and I love him so much even though he had a hard time sometimes, and everything I could think of that he might want to know. Once my sister and mom arrived we let them turn everything off. They turned off all the medications and took out the breathing tube (if someone asks you if you want to leave while they do that, at least turn around. Don't watch. It doesn't happen immediately and you'll be able to return and be with them in their final moments). We held his hands and watched while his body shuddered to a stop. The worst part (I mean, besides that he isn't here anymore) was waiting the final 10 minutes while his body struggled to poorly breathe and slowly stopped working. After the monitor started beeping it still wasn't over. It isn't like in the movies where you pull the plug and the person just stops, it was slow and kind of agonizing. It isn't like with a pet, either, where they're given the injection and kind of fall asleep and breath out for the last time, maybe because of the monitor telling you exactly what their body is still doing.
Anyway, that sucks. This sucks. Everything sucks. It doesn't feel real and I keep having to remind myself that it is. Basically the only way I'm making it through the day is by forgetting about it as much as possible or ignoring it. If I think about the times I won't be able to call him and make jokes or ask him about random facts or call when we're in NYC and can't find something, I just fall apart. It isn't fair. He was only 63. And somehow now I'm supposed to handle his estate and get the insurance to come through and figure out his normal bills and the hospital bills (no medical insurance) and the house, but I can't even handle my day to day life right now. I can't focus but I also can't not focus on something because then I fall apart. I try to make it feel better by reminding myself that he hadn't been himself for at least a few years. The person I miss isn't who he was the last year, but the person he was before that, who I always hoped would come back. The funny, likable, helpful, interesting guy I was proud to call my father and introduce to all my friends.
Back to the chain of events, for posterity.
Suddenly we were faced with what to do with his body - he hadn't made any arrangements or anything. His advance directive noted that he would like to be an organ donor, but as he went into multiple organ failure they weren't able to use anything. I suggested we donate his body for research and education, and everyone was amenable to that. I knew it would mean we wouldn't have to pay for funeral costs and that maybe his death could have some meaning in helping something happen. The hospital's social worker found a place that would take him and helped us fill out the paperwork. John and I were basically at the hospital all day, getting home at 5pm and continuing to find numbers to call people and let them know. My Aunt (his sister) from California flew in late that night and we set up a viewing at the Anatomy place so she could say goodbye to him. We hosted her for the week while trying to figure out something to honor him. Visiting the anatomy place was weird. It was in an office/industrial park and they had him behind a window and covered in a sheet. They had clearly tried to push him back into how he should look and his chin and mouth especially looked very strange. I couldn't look for more than a minute and we waited outside while my Aunt said goodbye. I took the week off of work, and so did John to help me out. Which he did, tremendously. I'm not sure my mother or Aunt or anyone else could have been more impressed by how much he stepped up to help me out. Without any direction or help from my mom (who was hit harder than she expected by it, I think), I just didn't know what to do. My aunt was a big help too, but John just took my phone and responded to texts and phone calls and everything so I wouldn't have to do all of it. He even called the church Barb suggested to set up the memorial and talk to the pastor there. I couldn't have gotten through even a day let alone the week without his help.
On Saturday we had a memorial. Through the help of some awesome employees at OfficeDepot, we had a big professional picture mounted on foam board, another poster of pictures we pulled out of all his old albums, and a frame filled with more recent pictures of him (plus a great one of his first wedding). We brought a really beautiful table he had made to display some of the stuff on, and I asked a few people to talk about him. The pastor had nice things to say and gave a sort of general description. My Aunt Diane talked about some of her memories of him when they were growing up, John said some very touching things that ended in how he'd take good care of me, which I know would have meant a lot to my dad. Mike talked about meeting him and respecting him, and Sara and Jennifer talked about knowing him as we grew up. Lizzy came up with me to read a thing I had written about some memories of him and how we'd miss him and how we'd make him proud, and Barb went up to talk about him more recently, too. It was really nice, and it really touched me how many people came. I kind of wish anyone from GE had been able to make it, but it was just fine with friends of the family and a whole lot of my friends who are seriously just the best.
Maybe I'm done for now.
I didn't visit Sunday since I figured it would be more of the same - him not even awake. Barb texted me at some point saying they had put him on dialysis as his kidneys weren't functioning well. I regret not stopping in because early Monday morning - like 3:00am - they started calling me and I started missing it because the alarm was set on my phone and it silences it. I woke up at 8:15 to 13 missed calls and numerous texts. His blood pressure crashed during the night and they were keeping it up with medication but I needed to get there immediately. John and I threw on clothes and went to the hospital, me calling my sister and mother frantically to get them to come, too. When I got there he was already not there, he was bleeding internally and it was seeping out of his mouth. The doctor said he wasn't in pain but there wasn't anything to do. I talked to him alone for a little while anyway, telling him I would make him proud and I love him so much even though he had a hard time sometimes, and everything I could think of that he might want to know. Once my sister and mom arrived we let them turn everything off. They turned off all the medications and took out the breathing tube (if someone asks you if you want to leave while they do that, at least turn around. Don't watch. It doesn't happen immediately and you'll be able to return and be with them in their final moments). We held his hands and watched while his body shuddered to a stop. The worst part (I mean, besides that he isn't here anymore) was waiting the final 10 minutes while his body struggled to poorly breathe and slowly stopped working. After the monitor started beeping it still wasn't over. It isn't like in the movies where you pull the plug and the person just stops, it was slow and kind of agonizing. It isn't like with a pet, either, where they're given the injection and kind of fall asleep and breath out for the last time, maybe because of the monitor telling you exactly what their body is still doing.
Anyway, that sucks. This sucks. Everything sucks. It doesn't feel real and I keep having to remind myself that it is. Basically the only way I'm making it through the day is by forgetting about it as much as possible or ignoring it. If I think about the times I won't be able to call him and make jokes or ask him about random facts or call when we're in NYC and can't find something, I just fall apart. It isn't fair. He was only 63. And somehow now I'm supposed to handle his estate and get the insurance to come through and figure out his normal bills and the hospital bills (no medical insurance) and the house, but I can't even handle my day to day life right now. I can't focus but I also can't not focus on something because then I fall apart. I try to make it feel better by reminding myself that he hadn't been himself for at least a few years. The person I miss isn't who he was the last year, but the person he was before that, who I always hoped would come back. The funny, likable, helpful, interesting guy I was proud to call my father and introduce to all my friends.
Back to the chain of events, for posterity.
Suddenly we were faced with what to do with his body - he hadn't made any arrangements or anything. His advance directive noted that he would like to be an organ donor, but as he went into multiple organ failure they weren't able to use anything. I suggested we donate his body for research and education, and everyone was amenable to that. I knew it would mean we wouldn't have to pay for funeral costs and that maybe his death could have some meaning in helping something happen. The hospital's social worker found a place that would take him and helped us fill out the paperwork. John and I were basically at the hospital all day, getting home at 5pm and continuing to find numbers to call people and let them know. My Aunt (his sister) from California flew in late that night and we set up a viewing at the Anatomy place so she could say goodbye to him. We hosted her for the week while trying to figure out something to honor him. Visiting the anatomy place was weird. It was in an office/industrial park and they had him behind a window and covered in a sheet. They had clearly tried to push him back into how he should look and his chin and mouth especially looked very strange. I couldn't look for more than a minute and we waited outside while my Aunt said goodbye. I took the week off of work, and so did John to help me out. Which he did, tremendously. I'm not sure my mother or Aunt or anyone else could have been more impressed by how much he stepped up to help me out. Without any direction or help from my mom (who was hit harder than she expected by it, I think), I just didn't know what to do. My aunt was a big help too, but John just took my phone and responded to texts and phone calls and everything so I wouldn't have to do all of it. He even called the church Barb suggested to set up the memorial and talk to the pastor there. I couldn't have gotten through even a day let alone the week without his help.
On Saturday we had a memorial. Through the help of some awesome employees at OfficeDepot, we had a big professional picture mounted on foam board, another poster of pictures we pulled out of all his old albums, and a frame filled with more recent pictures of him (plus a great one of his first wedding). We brought a really beautiful table he had made to display some of the stuff on, and I asked a few people to talk about him. The pastor had nice things to say and gave a sort of general description. My Aunt Diane talked about some of her memories of him when they were growing up, John said some very touching things that ended in how he'd take good care of me, which I know would have meant a lot to my dad. Mike talked about meeting him and respecting him, and Sara and Jennifer talked about knowing him as we grew up. Lizzy came up with me to read a thing I had written about some memories of him and how we'd miss him and how we'd make him proud, and Barb went up to talk about him more recently, too. It was really nice, and it really touched me how many people came. I kind of wish anyone from GE had been able to make it, but it was just fine with friends of the family and a whole lot of my friends who are seriously just the best.
Maybe I'm done for now.