My Dad
I started this a few days ago...
My dad is dying. Not eventually, as we all are, but imminently. Within the next day or two. So I "wait, and wonder, and worry." I'll be making a trip to Pittsburgh soon, but I don't know when. I'll have to make arrangments to have my work shifts covered while I'm gone, because my boss will already be away on his vacation - I'm supposed to be in charge of the department while he's gone, but I'll have to find adequate coverage for that while we're BOTH away.
My dad and I had a difficult time of each other when I was younger. He was a fixit-guy, an outdoorsman who enjoyed hunting and fishing. I was never interested in those things. I would rather read books or play chess or scrabble than hang out with him while he fixed the brakes on the car or put in a new plug in the bathroom or remodeled in the living room. My older brother was my dad's buddy. They would go fishing at the river, spend long hours hunting in the dark cold quiet of the fall woods. They would spend hours together, never saying a word while they got to know each other. I was jealous of their bond, and wished I could be as close.
I finally got to know my dad a little better as a teenager, when I was accepted for summer work at his company. I lived with him that summer, and the next two summers, at the house on company property. I learned a lot from my dad those summers, and appreciated the time we spent together. I saw first hand all the responsibility he had, and the department that he helped to run. There was a sign on his desk that said, "If you don't have time to do it right the first time, how are you going to have time to do it again?" He expected a lot from his workers, and the company expected a lot from him. I respected his work ethic, and take that with me now as I build my own career. He did what he had to do to support his family and made himself a valuable asset to the company. He was so valuable, that when he wanted to retire early, the company refused. They said they would have to hire two people to replace him, and it wouldn't be finacnially sound to do that. He went to his doctor and got documentation that he needed to be allowed to retire, which forced the company to allow it. Five days after he moved into his newly purchased retirement house, he had a heart attack, and was never the same. Dad refused to do the physical rehab to get himself back into shape. Despite seventeen years of sobriety, the earlier years of alcoholism had ravaged his organs, and between his many medications and weakened physical condition, he had a stroke this past January.
I went to see him in the hospital, and was there when the doctors released him to go home that Saturday. He was anxious. It was a minor setback, and he felt fine. He wanted to go home. The Insurance wouldn't pay to have him stay in the hospital anyway, so he was discharged. I saw him in the hall just before he went to bed that night, and I told him that I loved him. He said he loved me too, gave me a hug and went to sleep. It was the last conversation he was able to have.
That night, he had another stroke, this time more serious. It left him unable to move his right (dominant) side, and unable to speak coherently. He could make noise, but it was garbled and unintelligible. At first, he was able to stand with help, but as the days and weeks wore on, he lost his ability to stand, and then sit up, eat, drink, or even move his head on his own. He could only lift his left hand, shaking as it always had, and grasp things with it. He would communicate by holding tightly to whomever held his hand.
Last week he had a setback. He began to get fluid in his lungs, and was unable to clear it. Now he's been moved to hospice care and has stopped getting food or water, because his body is unable to process it. It's only a matter of time now and I'm torn because I can't be at his side. My brother is there as much as he can be, but my mother has been taking care of my dad all this time. It's been quite a burden on her, and I wish I could help. I feel trapped here at work, but I can't go yet because we don't know how long it will be. I can't miss that much work, because it will be unpaid other than three days of bereavement leave. Last night my brother called me from the hospital to give me the chance to talk to him, even if he couldn't talk back, because he didn't know what else he could do.
So I wait, wonder and worry.
And now the wait is over. Dad passed quietly in his sleep last night. I'm comforted to know that he felt no pain and that my mother and brother were there for him. I loved my Dad, and I will miss him. I will remember the good times we had together. I'm sure that every time I need help with some household task, or pass some knowledge on to my own children, I will think of him and miss him again.
I love you, Dad.
My dad is dying. Not eventually, as we all are, but imminently. Within the next day or two. So I "wait, and wonder, and worry." I'll be making a trip to Pittsburgh soon, but I don't know when. I'll have to make arrangments to have my work shifts covered while I'm gone, because my boss will already be away on his vacation - I'm supposed to be in charge of the department while he's gone, but I'll have to find adequate coverage for that while we're BOTH away.
My dad and I had a difficult time of each other when I was younger. He was a fixit-guy, an outdoorsman who enjoyed hunting and fishing. I was never interested in those things. I would rather read books or play chess or scrabble than hang out with him while he fixed the brakes on the car or put in a new plug in the bathroom or remodeled in the living room. My older brother was my dad's buddy. They would go fishing at the river, spend long hours hunting in the dark cold quiet of the fall woods. They would spend hours together, never saying a word while they got to know each other. I was jealous of their bond, and wished I could be as close.
I finally got to know my dad a little better as a teenager, when I was accepted for summer work at his company. I lived with him that summer, and the next two summers, at the house on company property. I learned a lot from my dad those summers, and appreciated the time we spent together. I saw first hand all the responsibility he had, and the department that he helped to run. There was a sign on his desk that said, "If you don't have time to do it right the first time, how are you going to have time to do it again?" He expected a lot from his workers, and the company expected a lot from him. I respected his work ethic, and take that with me now as I build my own career. He did what he had to do to support his family and made himself a valuable asset to the company. He was so valuable, that when he wanted to retire early, the company refused. They said they would have to hire two people to replace him, and it wouldn't be finacnially sound to do that. He went to his doctor and got documentation that he needed to be allowed to retire, which forced the company to allow it. Five days after he moved into his newly purchased retirement house, he had a heart attack, and was never the same. Dad refused to do the physical rehab to get himself back into shape. Despite seventeen years of sobriety, the earlier years of alcoholism had ravaged his organs, and between his many medications and weakened physical condition, he had a stroke this past January.
I went to see him in the hospital, and was there when the doctors released him to go home that Saturday. He was anxious. It was a minor setback, and he felt fine. He wanted to go home. The Insurance wouldn't pay to have him stay in the hospital anyway, so he was discharged. I saw him in the hall just before he went to bed that night, and I told him that I loved him. He said he loved me too, gave me a hug and went to sleep. It was the last conversation he was able to have.
That night, he had another stroke, this time more serious. It left him unable to move his right (dominant) side, and unable to speak coherently. He could make noise, but it was garbled and unintelligible. At first, he was able to stand with help, but as the days and weeks wore on, he lost his ability to stand, and then sit up, eat, drink, or even move his head on his own. He could only lift his left hand, shaking as it always had, and grasp things with it. He would communicate by holding tightly to whomever held his hand.
Last week he had a setback. He began to get fluid in his lungs, and was unable to clear it. Now he's been moved to hospice care and has stopped getting food or water, because his body is unable to process it. It's only a matter of time now and I'm torn because I can't be at his side. My brother is there as much as he can be, but my mother has been taking care of my dad all this time. It's been quite a burden on her, and I wish I could help. I feel trapped here at work, but I can't go yet because we don't know how long it will be. I can't miss that much work, because it will be unpaid other than three days of bereavement leave. Last night my brother called me from the hospital to give me the chance to talk to him, even if he couldn't talk back, because he didn't know what else he could do.
So I wait, wonder and worry.
And now the wait is over. Dad passed quietly in his sleep last night. I'm comforted to know that he felt no pain and that my mother and brother were there for him. I loved my Dad, and I will miss him. I will remember the good times we had together. I'm sure that every time I need help with some household task, or pass some knowledge on to my own children, I will think of him and miss him again.
I love you, Dad.