Some back story first. My dad had Parkinson's Disease. It was mostly affecting his legs. He had fallen a few times, so in March of 2005 he sold his home and moved into an apartment in an independent living facility near the Galleria. Very nice. Very private. He was enjoying it a lot more than he thought he would. At about 2:00a.m. on Saturday, August 13, 2005, the phone rang. It was my sister, Chris. The facility where my dad lived had called. He was being taken to the Emergency Room. I ended up driving over there, arriving at about 3:00a.m. We spent the next 16 hours in the ER, where he was poked, prodded, and tested. No definitive diagnosis, but he was admitted to the ICU at 7:00p.m. Sunday Chris and I alternated ICU visits. Monday we both spent the first of what would be many full days at the hospital. We would arrive early in the morning. Chris was able to get there before me, so she would stake out a good spot in the ICU Waiting Room - ideally in front of the TV (not that there was much to watch). We would spend the day waiting for the 15 minutes we were allowed to visit every few hours, going home after the last allowed visit in the evening. (As a side story to all of this, Kimberly and I were supposed to be spending the week together, getting her ready to move to Denton to begin her Master's program. We were planning on moving her to Denton on Saturday, the 20th. I was going to stay with her for a few days - helping her get her apartment set up. Needless to say, those plans all changed.) Monday it was determined that dad's aortic aneurism (which had been repaired before) was leaking and needed to be repaired. Surgery was set for Tuesday. Robert and Bob brought the grandkids up to see grandpa. We had as nice a visit as possible under those circumstances. Robert and Bob gave dad a blessing. I think dad felt it couldn't hurt, and he knew Chris and I took comfort from the blessings. Tuesday, surgery day, was a long day. The surgery took over 6 hours. When we finally left in the evening he was still unconscious. Wednesday was another long day. We had been told the operation had a 10% chance of paralysis, and we were told that unfortunately he was one of the unlucky ones. It looked like he was paralyzed from at least the knees down, possibly higher. Dad was still pretty out of it, but we knew he would be devastated by that outcome. On Thursday the doctor removed the respirator, and by Thursday evening we were able to have a nice conversation with him. Oh, and Thursday was my 24th wedding anniversary. Friday morning dad was agitated when we went in to see him at 9:00. When we went back in at 11:00 we found the nurses in his room getting ready to reinsert his breathing tube. The nurses told us they didn't know if it would ever be removed again. Chris and I both started to cry. We knew that dad would not want that and told them to stop while we called his doctor. Dr. E. came over, talked to dad, and filled out a DNR order. He told us that dad would probably die within the next day or two. But we all knew that that is what dad would have wanted. He would not have wanted to be kept alive with a breathing tube. He felt very strongly about that. At that time the ICU staff let Chris and I move into his room on a permanent basis. I'm not sure they were supposed to do that, but I think they also knew we weren't leaving. Robert and Kimberly came up that evening so she could say good bye. Friday night Chris and I slept in chairs - one on each side of dad's bed. We both had one hand stretched through the bars, holding his hands. While it wasn't very comfortable physically, it gave us great comfort emotionally. On Saturday Robert, Kimberly and the boys headed off to Denton to move Kimberly into her apartment - without me. Saturday night Chris and I tried to sleep in our chairs again. I can't say I slept well. I was watching the monitors - watching as dad's respiration slowed down - from 11 breaths a minute, to 10, to 9, continuing downward until at about 6:45a.m. on Sunday his breathing just stopped. Like my mom's death, it was very peaceful. He simply stopped breathing. Chris and I waited for the funeral home to come pick up our dad's body. Then we each went home to once again prepare to make funeral arrangements. I went home to an empty house. Robert and the kids were driving back from Denton. This time I didn't cry myself to sleep, but I did cry for my loss.
The amazing thing about all of this? Sunday, the day my dad died, was August 21st. My mom died on August 21, 1999 - six years earlier to the day. It almost seemed as if he held on so he could die on the same day.
6 comments:
Again, thank you for sharing what is a very personal story. For me, it gives me peace. And I'll be thinking of you today during your dad's birthday.
I read your posts thinking they would be ominous; instead very peaceful, quiet, and filled with dignity. Thanks for sharing.
thanks for sharing these two experiences. isn't it great to be able to have a peaceful perspective about death? it doesn't take the feeling of loss away, but it certainly soothes the sting.
Laurie, it's so interesting to read your accounts of mom and dad's deaths. As I read them, it brings it all back, and while I remember both accounts pretty much the way you do - there are things you mention that I don't recall and things you don't mention that I remember. All in all, you have done a wonderful job in telling the stories of how our two wonderful parents left this world and went on to a better place. I think I will wait a while and then do this myself. I imagine it gave you some comfort to write them - it certainly comforted me to read them. Love, Your Sister
I cannot imagine completing a DNR order--what a brave thing to do. Thank you for sharing your experiences, wisdom, and compassion.
And PS--Looks like you are doing a pretty good job at journaling to me.
This is beautiful. I love the mental image of you and your sister reaching across the same bed to touch the same man you shared as your father. I can't believe he died six years to the day of your mom's death. I think with things this personal and significant there are very few coincidences.
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