Sad anniversary

This is the day that my dad entered a fight for his life - and lost.

This is the day that we got the 10 PM call from my daughter in law that Grampa was put into the hospital. She didn’t know what was really wrong at that time. It was about 3 AM we learned he had a really bad case of pneumonia.

I was amazed that he was so ill. I had seen him two days before and saw no sigh of respiratory distress. Now I was five hours away. It was my nightmare coming true. He needed me and it was not easy to get there.

All plans had changed. The family Christmas party was off. We scurried to pack up and close up the house. G’s brother and wife were there trying to do whatever, and in a swirl we were off.
I got to the hospital, and there he was. Fairly alert. I waited for the doctors. They gave no real hope.

Ultimately, I had to make the call that we use the DNR (no life supports). I never dreamed that decision could be so hard. But it was. Even though the Alzheimer’s had taken my dad from me, the shell was still there.

The real nightmare had begun. He would linger for the next two weeks, unable to swallow, but his condition not warranting a food tube. It a was the most distressing time of my life. It was a time of complete self doubt.

Here in the end, I really believe my actions were correct. I am no longer second quessing myself. My beloved dad was 93 and in the absolute end stage of dementia. With that feeding tube, he would have lingered until another catastrophic infection came on. He would probably have had the foley (urinary tube) in for the rest of his life. That possibly would have been the next infectjon.

It still boils down to one thing. Even though I began losing Dad at least ten years ago, the finality of it still is fresh. I so miss him, and on this anniversary the pain is still fresh.