Back in October of 2021, I started journaling again. I’ve never been consistent with keeping a journal, but we were going through things I knew I’d want to return to someday. Now, almost a year later, I feel ready to share some of what we went through in the weeks prior to my dad passing away. A lot has been cut out, but some of the repetition has remained because we were so shocked that he stayed alive as long as he did.
This is for my sister…because we’ve seen some sh*t.
10/5/21
My thoughts are not what some would call sugar-coated. For example, my dad is in a nursing home, and all I keep wishing is for him to die. I can’t say that out loud, as much as I want to, because it’s too shocking — but considering his condition, it would be the most humane option. I have felt such an immense relief now that he’s in a facility. For almost 20 years, I had been overseeing his care - health, finances, etc. The daily grind of meals and the worry associated with his well-being was beyond exhausting. I used to say I lived in the hours after he went to bed at night, but by that time, I was too tired to stay awake myself.
No one should spend their final years like this - there’s something to be said for dying suddenly. Now, he’s on his third round of kidney issues, immobile due to his hip deteriorating (he’d had replacements in the late 90s and it was all breaking down, he was too old for revision surgery), and his dementia is off the charts.
Six months ago, my hubby’s father passed away in our guest room after eight long days of hospice care. As those days felt like months, I kept thinking, “how long can this continue?” And I feel that way now with my own father.
Thre’’s also a selfish part of me who just wants zero responsibility to anyone. I feel the ticking clock of time. When will it be my turn to be old and unable to do anything for myself? Two hours after writing all this, we’re at the hospital.
Pop’s oxygen is at 81%. Could be fluid in his lungs, and he’s still talking crazy.
Getting old is for the birds.
Over the past year, we not only dealt with my hubby’s dad passing, but his mom also took a fall earlier in the year. She went from a nursing home to a supportive living place (which has been the best result of all that happened, since she gets to be social, and people are making sure she eats and takes her meds). We had to take her dog, and over a course of a few months, the dog became aggressive toward Stella, our tiny, tiny Toy Poodle. I’m pretty sure I have PTSD from the last incident that landed Stella at the Emergency Vet, and me in the ER when I threw out my back trying to rescue her. We had to put his mom’s dog down a few days later, but it took a very long time before we told her about it. Even then, we lied and told her the dog got very sick.
We did have some really bright moments throughout the year that helped outweigh the crap times. We went to Universal and Disney — I got brave and rode the coasters, screaming and laughing because I needed to. I was finally in a groove at work (even more so despite all that’s going on. I look forward to every day at the office and love what I do). I published my first book in 2021, a huge feat in itself.
But the best time we had so far was sitting in front of the TV with the pups.
10/6/21
The last 24 hours have been, in a word, dicey.
Pops is septic, with an infection and pneumonia. He’s talking gibberish, and his blood pressure is so low, that they had to tilt the bed, so his feet were elevated. I went to work, not so much for the distraction (it was totally for the distraction) but because I finally feel settled in after two years. I’ve found my place, I’m planning programs for next year, and I’m fulfilled by it all.
10/8/21
Heading to the hospital to discuss Pop’s plan going forward. I feel zero guilt when I admit that I wish he’d pass in his sleep. This is no way to live. I feel like an immense weight has been lifted now that he’s in someone else’s hands. I often wonder if the last 20 years of taking care of my dad were payback for something stupid I said to my mom when I was in my late teens. My mom took care of her parents, much like I have been taking care of my dad. I had said, at the time, that I wasn’t planning on revolving my life around their care when I’m older. What a knucklehead, immature thing to say. Of course, I’d take care of them. But I was young, and saw how tied down she was because she had to help them, how tired she seemed. I now understand what she went through.
10/10/21
The last few days have been a bit of a rollercoaster. Pops had to receive a unit of blood because he wasn’t waking up, and his hemoglobin was low. My sister stayed late at the hospital last night because when he did wake up, he asked her to stay with him. I don’t see how he can return to rehab at this point. I imagine he is going to decline quickly (little did we know it would take weeks).
His mood now is borderline aggressive. Most days, he’s angry, yelling, kicking, and swinging at the nurses. But then, he’s sweet as pie.
10/11/21
Pops was returned to the rehab facility and is starting hospice.
10/14/21
Who knows how long Pops will last, but it’s been a long ass ride so far. Stages of alertness but mostly lethargic. At 2 pm today, I hit a wall and had to leave work.
10/21/21
A whole week has passed. It flew but also moved at a snail’s pace. A few times this week, I was sure we’d get “the call.” Pops is super lethargic and not really responding, but then has surges of energy. Hospice is cutting back on a lot of his meds that he no longer needs. I hope it speeds up the process.
10/25/21
I can’t believe Pops is still alive. I feel like we’ve been prepared for the end, and it’s being prolonged.
10/31/21
Pops is still alive. WTF.
Yesterday, he was alert and angry, confused and agitated. I asked the nurse to start giving him morphine, but hospice seems to want to hold off. They call it snowing the patient - basically doping him up. So, we argued that he is hallucinating (probably from dementia but living like this is so unfair), he’s having nightmares, and he’s super salty. Hospice wants to make small changes, but we don’t see how any of this is humane.
11/4/21
I can’t believe Pops is still alive. They told me hospice survival is 24 days (that would be today). My sister and I spend hours on the phone talking, wondering how he is still living.
How?
This is fucking brutal, and I imagine, when it’s over, I’m going to have a moment. Maybe a meltdown, but more of a huge sigh of relief. Can we please be done soon?
11//6/21
Still with us.
Yesterday, Pops was feeling pain, so they were consistently giving him morphine. I don’t trust the nurses — they gave him blood pressure medications! I don’t think anyone realizes he’s dying. When I walked into the room, I didn’t see his feet and thought he was gone, but he was sideways on the bed! His head was hanging off one side, and he had his legs propped on the chair next to the bed.
11/7/21
Day 104 since this whole thing started and it’s my sister’s birthday— Pops has stopped responding. He’s not eating, drinking, or swallowing. I feel like we’re so close to the end. To think, three months ago, we were looking at long-term care facilities and wondering how we could ever have him over for Thanksgiving again. Everything kind of hit me this evening; seeing him like that, really seeing him, was brutal. This has been such a terrible road for him, and I just want it done.
11/9/21
Listening to Supertramp. At 8:50pm last night, Pops finally passed away. My sister was with him, holding his hand and talking to him in his last moments. She’s amazing.
11/13/21
The last two days were overwhelming, emotional, and exhausting. The wake was a revolving door of family, friends, and neighbors. The service was surreal, especially when the honor guard presented us with the flag. It broke all of us.
A year later…my sister and I both have those fleeting moments where we feel the tug to call our dad. To share with him something about our day, to check on him to make sure he’s eaten. Although his house has been sold and his things are mostly gone or boxes up in our respective homes, his presence lingers. It probably always will.