Two Days Gone

March 21, 2007 at 10:01 PM | Posted in Personal | 3 Comments
  Just got home.  Feel like I’ve been gone for two days.  Last night I thought I was performing at the Funny Bone, turns out there was a glitch in the listing.  Check my comedy blog for details; I feel like repeating myself in much the same way I feel like throwing up.  I get home, I go to bed.  Detroit is working third shift, and there I am, alone in bed.
  I wake up about 430 am to the phone ringing.
  No foreshadowing, no literary imagery here.  Just the straight scoop:  When the phone rings in the middle of the night, it’s never good.
  My dad is still in the hospital, and getting worse. ICU.  My sister is handling things, but this is alot for her to handle.  I need to be there.  I call Detroit, and she manages to get off an hour early, and we make the drive in.
  My dad has always been big, strong, and virile.  Tough.  Lately he’s been frail and small looking, and it scares the hell out of me.  I was trying to tell myself it was just a phase, an illness.  But my sister says he has been steadily declining over the past few months.  Seeing him, lying in the hospital bed, tube down his throat to make his lungs breath, all manner of modern medical technology hooked up to him was a breakdown point for me.  His false teeth removed for the breathing tube only added to the image of him being frail and broken.  He was unconscious and sedated, because the tube is an aggravation.  His chest heaved unnaturally, mechanically, at being forced to take in air and push it out.
  My brother drove into town as well, and I made another trip up to the hospital, to see him, and to see Dad.  Carl and I had a talk, and then, when we go to my dad’s house (my sister lives there as well), we all three had a talk.  The Meeting.
  Basically, we had some decisions to make, and among them was who was going to make them.  My younger sister Judy lives with my dad, and has been taking care of him, and knows most of the quirks and details of what was going on, feared Carl would come in and try to take over and make all the decisions and turn her out.  I knew it wasn’t so, but she had these fears.  I discussed it with Carl beforehand, and so when we all met, he managed to get out an apology for past wrongs to my sister.  It was a .. .good moment.  He had said some things in grief when our mom died, and Judy, in her grief, took them too hard.  The closure was necessary.
  And then we talked about Dad.  It seems he is dying.  Maybe soon, maybe not for a while.  But we will need to deal with it.  He has emphasyma, COPD, a spot of some type on his lungs, and he is just in general tired of fighting.  Carl said he would support whatever decisions we made regarding him, but it should be us two who take care of it, and it should be me who leads the way, takes charge.  Judy agreed, saying she was out of her element dealing with this.  Well, hell, so am I.  But it has become my burden to bear.
  My brother lives a ways away.  Further than I do, but also–he’s my half brother.  Dad isn’t his dad.  Well, as he said, he’s not his father, but he is his dad.  I am the oldest blood child.  I told him, "My oldest kids aren’t mine–they are Linda’s.  But they call me Dad.  When my time comes for this, I want them to be there for my kids, Mitchell and Miranda–to help them through this.  And that’s what I want you to be for us. . ."
  And so we agreed, and settled, and cleared the air, and had assured ourselves that we would work together for what was best for Dad.  Then we discussed other things, such as the house and belongings and so forth.  It was amazing to me, and made me glad in a bittersweet way, that we each came to the same conclusion separately about how things should be done.  We are not all that different from each other, not really.
  My brother left, and I . . . well, I went to work for a few hours.  Not alot else I could do, I was close, and Detroit and Judy could take a nap.  I didn’t cry much at work, and I didn’t let anyone see me.  Three hours, and I leave.  Go back to Dad’s house, and me and Detroit and Judy talk about just things.  Detroit and I finally head home.  We get in, and here I am at the computer, in my underwear.  Mortally tired.  Tired to the bone, to the soul.
  The weather was perfect today.  The best day, weather-wise, I can remember in years.  It’s usually too cold or too hot or too wet or too something.  I feel like I haven’t been home in days.  Maybe I haven’t.  What day is this?
  I don’t think–I don’t remember if I told my sister I love her.
 
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3 Comments »

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  1. I am sorry to hear this.
    I went thru this with my dad.
    Its a rough time for everyone.
    Alot of emotions flying all over the place.
    Its important to watch your health thru this.
    I know Detroit will keep an eye on you.
    take care *Hugs

  2. I remember when my dad died, I was the one there with him in the end, or at least for the last two weeks of his life, then I came home and a day later he died. My step mom excluded me out of everything from the picking of his casket to the funeral.  I was there but as his oldest I wasn\’t given the opportunity to choose anything. All I got of his was his gun because she didn\’t want my brothers to have one. I even got pics from my grandma and my mom because she wouldn\’t give me any. So the fact you all are able to decide on this mutually is great.  Good Luck.

  3. I am so sorry to hear about your father passing…
    My thoughts and prayers are with you and your family.


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