Tag Archives: Dad

death watch

I’ve had this title in my mind for a couple of weeks now. Like many other things, I’ve seen it before but now I am experiencing it. It’s strange that after a lifetime of trying to preserve health – holding death at bay, as it were – we are allowing death to have its way. It’s also strange that I am personifying death. That’s what humans do, though, to try to understand what is fundamentally not understandable.

Well, anyway, death came to Dad yesterday morning. I’m going to try make a separate post about that. This is a snippet I wrote on my phone Sunday that speaks to the watch part.

It’s Sunday January 20th and the family is gathering at Mom and Dad’s to celebrate Sarah and Jack’s birthdays. Dad is at the end, though. He hasn’t had any food for several days and very little water. Teresa and Mom gave him a small dose of morphine this morning. Previously the heaviest pain medication was Tylenol. He had been very restless the 24 hours previously. He was sleeping soundly when Sepi and I got here about 12:30. He woke up a little about 1. He seemed to recognize Mary and tried to respond to her. Now (2 pm) he’s sleeping again but his breathing is labored. He sort of half clears his throat every minute or so. Mom was sitting with him but I relieved her so she could eat lunch. Mom went to the church yesterday to make arrangements for the funeral Mass and reception. She is definitely ready for this to be over.

Dad

The other news this new year is about Dad. The week before Thanksgiving he was out with Mom and tried to get out of the car on his own and fell. Mom had gone into the store with the understanding – her understanding – that Dad would wait for her.

It was a perfect example of how we are all living in the past to some extent with Dad. He thought – as near as we could later find out – that he was to go in as well. He got out of the car and promptly fell. A passer by saw him and called 911. His injuries were not severe but in the course of examination at the ER, a chest X-ray was taken revealing a golf ball sized ‘mass’ in his lung.

Normally a biopsy would be conducted to verify what this ‘mass’ was but neither Dad nor any other member of the family was in favor of it. It would be very stressful and the likelihood was that it would in fact be cancerous. That begged the question of what would be the next step. Surgery, radiation, or chemo? No, the consensus was to let it go.

At the same time, the doctors said there were some ‘abnormalities’ in his blood work. My own view of the progression of information was a bit skewed as I was busy working during those first days but about a week later I asked Mom what she had been told.

Leukemia.

The doctors recommended we begin hospice care. It took a while for me to figure out what this exactly means. Evidently, this implies that life expectancy is 6 months. Kaiser brought a hospital bed and some medicines and supplies to the house but the extra care Mom needed was not part of the deal. She had to call providers and set up a schedule.

Of course all of the children were involved in all of this. My own help was minimal but all of my siblings made major contributions to the changes. Teresa, Mary and Tim are in the medical field in various ways and were able to understand what the doctors were saying. We all came to the house and filled in the cracks of care.

Mom has gone from having help 4 hours a day 3 days a week to 12 hours a day 5 days a week. Only a small part of the cost is covered by insurance. To save money, we sibs have promised to cover the weekends.

Dad’s only indication that he is in pain is when he is being moved out of the bed. He doesn’t say anything but we notice the strain in his face. As far as I know the only medication he is taking is a stool softener. He still uses the walker to get down the hall to the living room. He likes to watch football on TV. He eats meals in the dining room. He listens to the conversation around him and occasionally tries to say something but he cannot construct sentences any more.

Mom had his favorite priest come and say Mass for him. He also got the Sacrament of the Sick. I believe this is the same as what we used to call Extreme Unction, or Last Rites. Mary actually got him out to Church on Christmas Eve which he enjoyed.

As for the future, death awaits us all. Dad is likely closer than the rest of us. We are doing our best to make his remaining days as comfortable as possible.

numbers

This past week I was going to write a post on numbers: 3, for years since Zach died. 53, for speed of the truck that killed him. I still want to write to the DA and try to get the case reopened. Every time I stand on a sidewalk and watch traffic speeding by I think of how fast they are going. Sometimes I estimate they are going about 50 and I think how it would feel to be slammed against their windshield.

53 is pretty fucking fast for a city street and it’s no wonder Zach was killed instantly. When I went back to Baton Rouge last January, very few cars were going that fast along that little stretch. I think both drivers were driving recklessly and should be cited appropriately.

But I haven’t written that yet. Sepi reminded me that I had told her last summer I was going to let it go. I don’t remember that. I just remember that i want to try one more time.

Meanwhile, Dad was out last Wednesday with Mom and fell when she wasn’t looking. 911 was called and they spent the afternoon in the ER. Blood tests and X-rays showed no serious damage to his bones but revealed a mass in his lung. The doctor say she’s 99% sure it is cancer. Te be sure involves a biopsy and the consensus is to not do that.

Coincidentally, Tim came to visit Thursday so we were able to get 4 of the 6 of us in the same room as Mom and Dad to discuss what to do. Dad didn’t say much of anything. We’re not sure how much he understands but he really doesn’t want to spend another afternoon like Wednesday.

The doctor talked of hospice which evidently can be triggered by a six month time frame. Now we’re all coming to terms with the likelihood that, instead of wasting slowly away from Alzheimers, Dad will be dead much sooner.

Everyone was pretty calm Friday when were all discussing this but I feel sure that we are all in some kind of denial.

We will all gather again on Thanksgiving. We will rejoice in what we have and what we have had.

the best moment

Last night as she was about to leave the reception, Ashley asked me what was the best moment of my day. I really couldn’t think of just one. It was all fantastic – in every sense of the word. In the past couple of weeks, I had used the analogy of the roller coaster ratcheting up the incline before the first drop. Well, yesterday was the drop.

And, like a roller coaster ride, it seemed like it was over before I knew it.

I told her the moment when she and Jeremy pulled into the parking lot at Davies Hall was big. It meant that they were safely there. They were the last of my posse to arrive.

But there were so many more: standing under that dome on that staircase, looking into the soulful eyes of Willie Brown as he spoke those solemn words of commitment; having Ashley tell me that the song the band was playing was the song that she and Zach sang at her wedding reception using kitchen utensils as microphones; hearing the trio start as we were still down at the bottom of the stairs taking pictures; having so many people come up to me to say how happy I looked an how happy they were for me; it was all great.

(Thanks to Lolly Lewis for this photo.)

This morning I remembered a moment that I could honestly say was the best. At the reception, it was pretty chaotic. People came in bit by bit and there was a lot of milling around while they found their seats. And of course everyone wanted to talk to us. We hadn’t set up a reception line. Then I started to hear people say they were hungry and when was the food coming out. This was near to 7:30 and the food was just then starting to come out.

I went and started filling a plate for Dad but Sepi came to me and said, wait, there must be a toast. then there followed several minutes of confusion while we looked for the champagne, the best man, the band. I got a little grumpy about then because I just wanted to let people eat.

Finally it was decided that we could do the best man toast later. All I had to do was welcome everyone and say that the food was ready. I can do that.

So I tapped on the glasses and the room started to settle down. I don’t remember if I spoke first to welcome everyone but there was cheering and I raised my arms and pointed to the ring on my finger and the cheering intensified.

That was the moment.

I spoke a little bit and Sepi said some nice things, but soon everyone was digging in to the excellent food and the party moved into high gear.

Crustimony Proceedcake

Last week I was talking to someone at work and they said just do what you usually do. I said, ‘Oh, the crustimony proceedcake.’

It’s from Winnie the Pooh. They didn’t get it.

Here’s the story: Winnie-the-Pooh has discovered that The Old Grey Donkey, Eeyore, has lost his tail. (Here I am following the capitalization of Mr Milne.) So he goes to see Owl. As Pooh says, ‘. . . if anyone knows anything about anything it’s Owl who knows something about something . . .’

At Owl’s house, Pooh asks him what to do. Now Milne:

‘Well,’ said Owl, ‘the customary procedure in such cases is as follows.’

‘What does Crustimony Proceedcake mean?’ said Pooh. ‘For I am a Bear of Very Little Brain, and long words Bother me.’

‘It means the Thing to Do.’

My copy of Winnie-the-Pooh is inscribed with my name and the date, 1955, in my father’s hand. I was two.

jigsaw puzzles

I guess I never wrote about my jigsaw puzzles. I’ve always liked doing them. Many Thanksgivings and Christmases in Santa Clara featured a jigsaw puzzle. Mom likes doing them and had has one going occasionally. Dad thinks it’s foolishness so he ignores the whole thing.

I had talked about doing them here at my apartment for a long time. I even went shopping for a folding table but the ones I found were funky so I blew it off.

Then Rose came over one day and brought a table that she said she never used. It was nice: good support and surface and size. A week or so later she brought over a new puzzle. I was off!

That was about a year ago. Since then, I’ve had a puzzle going pretty much all the time. I’ve gone through everything that Mom has. I’ve bought a few puzzles and Sarah gave me one but a couple of weeks ago I finished one and had nothing in the pipeline. Barnes and Noble carries puzzles as does Target, but I didn’t care for the ones they had so . .  to the Internet!

I started at the website of the last one I did. It was made in USA and decent quality. That led to Puzzle Warehouse. They had some that I liked. As I put the first couple in the cart, they announced free shipping for an order over $75. Oh well, I don’t do this often. Six puzzles later, I’m done.

They came a couple of days ago and now my puzzle table is full again! Now I just have to figure out where to store the others . . .

Posture

Sarah called me the other day and one of the things she had to say was that she felt my height was not what it used to be. I’ve been interpreting that as a posture issue but she made it clear that she was worried that I might be headed down the same road as Dad.

Medical terms confuse me so I never can remember if kiphosis is the correct term for his condition or if it’s just osteoporosis. Many people have osteoporosis, I think, and don’t exhibit his symptoms. He has lost at least a foot in height in the last ten years or so. He’s badly bent over now.

Anyway, Sarah said that she thought I’ve lost some height in the last year and wanted to encourage me to do what ever I could to prevent the same thing happening to me as happened to Dad. There is some thought in the family that he had the opportunity to take action and didn’t

I haven’t had good posture for a long time, but I felt that there were a number of reasons for that. One is that I’ve never felt comfortable talking to people from a height. Since I’m taller than most other people, I find that I stoop to try to get to the eye level of whoever I’m talking to. Another is self confidence. Perhaps these are related. I think I often try to be inconspicuous. Put down here in writing it sounds really dumb – a 6′ 2″, 200 lb guy trying to be inconspicuous – get real!

One of the things I always liked while being with Zach was not having the excuse of stooping to talk to him. He didn’t stoop to me and I had to stand up straight to talk at him.

I had to admit to Sarah that I hadn’t been doing the exercises I had started with my physical therapy last year. I promised to get going on them again. Self confidence doesn’t come from a magic pill, so I will just continue to try to get good sleep and keep my work load low so I don’t feel beaten down.

Dad’s birthday

Dad turned 87 today. Teresa hosted a party at her house. All the Bay Area Woods were there. Mary called and sang him ‘Happy Birthday ‘ over the phone. He couldn’t hear her with the handset so Paul got the speaker phone going and that was better.

After dessert of lemon meringue pie (his request) he opened the cards from his children. All contained heartfelt personal statements of love and admiration. He had trouble reading them because they were handwritten, though. Jane was sitting next to him and helped out.  He was in good humor all evening and even made a couple of jokes but sometimes the conversation moves too fast for him and he checks out. Other times he makes self deprecating remarks that recognize his limitations.

I had tea and conversation with Tom V yesterday who I haven’t seen in nearly a year. He lost his mother in the spring of 2015 and many of his reactions to the loss were familiar to me. He’s still feeling the effects. All death is traumatic, even when one is older and has lived a long life. It just makes me treasure Dad and Mom all the more. One day they’ll be no more and all we’ll have left are memories.

Dad

In a lighter mode, I want to expand a little on the kvetching I did about my trip to Denver. Dad’s on the downhill side of his life. His body and mind are not what they used to be. I still treasure him and value my time with him.

As a memory of better times, I want to post this photo which as always been one of my favorites. I don’t remember ever asking but I’m pretty sure Mom was the photographer in Big Basin in 1957.

at-big-basin-1957