My Daddy died at 5:00am on Thursday, September 20, 2012.
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| August, 2002 - 8 months pregnant with Aidan |
September 10, 2012
This was a crucial morning. Daddy needed to be weaned off the ventilator and the sedation. We wanted the breathing tube OUT and needed to assess his cognitive abilities after his surgery. They slowly decreased the ventilator and tried to get him to breathe on his own. His stats immediately crashed and he became extremely agitated. They had to resume sedation and the ventilator. We were told that they would try again the following day. During the break from the heavy sedation, I was granted another miracle.
He opened his eyes. He looked at my face, my eyes. He was making contact and wanted to tell me something. He squeezed my hand and slowly blinked his eyes as I stroked his hair and told him how much I loved him. For a moment, I saw tenderness in his gaze. A split second later, all I saw in his clear blue eyes was fear and suffering. It was like he was pleading with me to stop all of this. He hated being in the hospital and had made that abundantly clear in years past. I mean, who does like being there? No one. He was in pain, had a tube down his throat, and was unable to even move. In that single look, I knew what he wanted. It cut me in two but, I understood and my Mom and I would honor his wishes in EVERY way. We decided to give them one more chance the following morning, to wean him off the ventilator, after another night of sedation.
We left the hospital late that night feeling empty, deflated. It was so important to keep a positive attitude and continue to have hope. We had accomplished that every single day of this nightmare. The energy around my Mom and I was different that night. In our hearts, we knew. We knew that death was knocking and nothing could stop it. It was a sobering moment.
September 11-14, 2012
These next days were a blur of fear, grief, and very difficult decisions. Daddy's team of doctors had tried several times to wean him off the ventilator and heavy sedation. Same result every time. His stats crashed and he became extremely agitated. We had a meeting with the entire team, including our angel of a social worker. My Mom and I bravely spoke the words we never wanted to say. Discontinue life support.
We stepped out of the room as they extubated him. We had seen enough horror for a lifetime and did not need to witness this barbaric task. He had talked about how awful the whole experience is and has had nightmares about it for years. We made sure he was adequately sedated before they began.
The doctors stepped out, with bowed heads and words of sympathy...wishing they could have done more.
I gave my Mom some privacy. This man had been the love of her life for 20 years. She stepped into a very broken family and loved us all until happy became our normal. I was an angry, confused 16 year old girl who didn't want any part of someone taking my Daddy away. He had been hurt enough. She never wavered. She took my verbal abuse, awful attitude, and loved me anyway. I was the daughter she had always wanted. She was the mother I always prayed for. We found our way because she never gave up on me. I still believe that God finally answered my prayers for a mother that would love me unconditionally. She was everything I ever wanted and wished for. She was also the absolute love of my Daddy's life.
I watched as she said goodbye to the man she had loved for so long. My heart truly broke.
I held his hand, stroked his hair, put my head on his chest. I told him how much I loved him and promised to take care of Mom and his beloved dog. I told him that he was the strongest man I have ever known. Kissing his face, I whispered that I would always be his little girl and I would never stop loving him. Ever.
As we sobbed at either side of his bed, nothing happened. He was still alive. I suppose we expected some dramatic end the minute they removed the breathing tube. Not my Daddy. He was going to do it HIS way, as he always had. Once again, I was in awe his strength and tenacity.
He was still alive the next morning. We realized that he did not want to die there. He wanted to go home. He had been trying to tell us that all along.
We arranged ambulance transport home, about an hour and a half trip from LA. Hospice was called. I left to prepare their home. My Mom stayed to ride back with him in the ambulance.
By midnight that night, Daddy was where he wanted to be.
Home, in his bed...with his dog at his feet.
September 11-14, 2012
These next days were a blur of fear, grief, and very difficult decisions. Daddy's team of doctors had tried several times to wean him off the ventilator and heavy sedation. Same result every time. His stats crashed and he became extremely agitated. We had a meeting with the entire team, including our angel of a social worker. My Mom and I bravely spoke the words we never wanted to say. Discontinue life support.
We stepped out of the room as they extubated him. We had seen enough horror for a lifetime and did not need to witness this barbaric task. He had talked about how awful the whole experience is and has had nightmares about it for years. We made sure he was adequately sedated before they began.
The doctors stepped out, with bowed heads and words of sympathy...wishing they could have done more.
I gave my Mom some privacy. This man had been the love of her life for 20 years. She stepped into a very broken family and loved us all until happy became our normal. I was an angry, confused 16 year old girl who didn't want any part of someone taking my Daddy away. He had been hurt enough. She never wavered. She took my verbal abuse, awful attitude, and loved me anyway. I was the daughter she had always wanted. She was the mother I always prayed for. We found our way because she never gave up on me. I still believe that God finally answered my prayers for a mother that would love me unconditionally. She was everything I ever wanted and wished for. She was also the absolute love of my Daddy's life.
I watched as she said goodbye to the man she had loved for so long. My heart truly broke.
I held his hand, stroked his hair, put my head on his chest. I told him how much I loved him and promised to take care of Mom and his beloved dog. I told him that he was the strongest man I have ever known. Kissing his face, I whispered that I would always be his little girl and I would never stop loving him. Ever.
As we sobbed at either side of his bed, nothing happened. He was still alive. I suppose we expected some dramatic end the minute they removed the breathing tube. Not my Daddy. He was going to do it HIS way, as he always had. Once again, I was in awe his strength and tenacity.
He was still alive the next morning. We realized that he did not want to die there. He wanted to go home. He had been trying to tell us that all along.
We arranged ambulance transport home, about an hour and a half trip from LA. Hospice was called. I left to prepare their home. My Mom stayed to ride back with him in the ambulance.
By midnight that night, Daddy was where he wanted to be.
Home, in his bed...with his dog at his feet.
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