the end
Dad died at 6p this evening after a long battle with:
Lung cancer
Bladder cancer
Hydroencephalus
Hypercalcemia
Thank you for your thoughts.
Dad died at 6p this evening after a long battle with:
Lung cancer
Bladder cancer
Hydroencephalus
Hypercalcemia
Thank you for your thoughts.
This past Tuesday morning, the nurses in the ICU at Sarasota Memorial put a breathing tube down my father’s throat and gave him medication to sustain his life so that my siblings and I could get there before he died. My sister and I drove 7 1/2 hours from Atlanta and, after a harrowing traveling experience (which included a 3 1/2 hour delay), my brother’s arrived later that night. Finally, we gathered around my father. Each of us said our goodbyes. After which, the family left so the nurses could extubate him (remove his breathing tube) and take him off his medication. We fully expected that Dad would slip away shortly thereafter.
We stood around the bed, sharing the experience and supporting each other. And we stood…and stood…and stood. And after standing for awhile, we began to drift away and find places to sit and, eventually, sleep. (You know, if you are tired enough, a cheap office chair is a perfectly fine bed.) Yesterday (Wednesday), we were given a little surprise as Dad became conscious and responsive on several occasions. We were able to ask if he was in pain; to let him know that we were here; to remind him that he still needed to do his push-ups for the day. He would shake or nod his head as appropriate (and gurgled a little at the push-up comment — not sure if that was responsive or just coincidental).
Last night (Wednesday) he was moved from ICU to a private room and continues to be given pain and anxiety medication. He has not become responsive since. His breathing is more labored, but he seems at peace. We have initiated hospice care in the hospital, meaning that the only treatment he is receiving now is to maintain comfort. We had thought that a bed might be available in an external hospice facility (closer to where the family is staying), but it turns it was not. Perhaps one will become available later today or tomorrow (turnover there, unfortunately, is pretty high).
He is a fighter. He is literally a shell of his former self; before being admitted, his weight had dropped to 125lbs (from about 150lbs). I know that I thought, along with his doctors, that he was pretty frail, yet he continues to hold on and fight. He continues to take one labored breath at a time. As he lies in his hospital bed, he is sleeping with his mouth open and when I look at him, I sometime envision him yelling at Death that he’s not giving up. I once said in this blog that I hope that I could live up to the example of strength that he has shown through this ordeal. I admire his determination and the sheer will he is exerting to continue on. Both his doctors and his wife, Arlene, both describe Dad as doggedly focused on getting better. At each doctors visit, my Dad would ask what he needed to do to get better. He is a fighter.
The last few members of the family come into town today. It’s ironic that this is the weekend of the annual Hamburger Family Reunion in Wildwood Crest, NJ (moreso ironic, in that my family and I were not going to make it to the beach because school had just started; however, while we were reluctant to pull the kids from school to go be with the family up in NJ, there was no question about pulling them out to be with the family in FL). I would imagine that with all gatherings of this sort, these last few days have been quite bittersweet. It is so nice to have the family together, united for this unhappy event to be sure, but fully together where were would have otherwise not have gathered. Last night I was able to sit with my brother-in-law, nephew, and niece, MaryBeth, and my step-mother’s sister, her son, and her boyfriend, and just talk about stuff. We talked a bit about Dad and the situation, but more often than not, we just talked about stuff, in general. It felt normal, relaxed, pleasant (which is not entirely attributable to the adult beverages we were enjoying). After spending the last several weeks worrying about Dad, it was nice to focus on pleasant stuff.
And so there you have it. I am sitting here with my siblings (in order of age): Marjie, Isaac, and Sid, feeling something like a guardian over my father. We continue to talk to him; to let him know that he is loved and being honored. We’re not sure when this story will end, but the last couple of days have certainly been about celebrating my Dad’s life. More later.
Merle