Practice makes perfect…or does it?
My dad’s story.
Eleven months to the day after my mother’s death it was my father’s turn. I had suspected his cancer had returned, but he refused to admit it. I think he didn’t want to add more grief on top of mom’s passing.
He told me he was passing blood, but the doctor said it was kidney stones. I wanted to know why the doctor wasn’t doing anything. My dad assured me he was doing all he could. This went on all summer and into fall. My dad never complained. I should mention the month after my mother died my brother was diagnosed with lung cancer. He and our dad went to chemo together for awhile. Our dad had had cancer 5 times. Or one time that was on and off with brief periods of remission. (however you want to look at it)
I came home from work one day in early November. There was a message on the answering machine. It was my dad. He was in the hospital with pneumonia. I gathered the kids and rushed to see him. I knew the minute I walked in the room and saw him…..he’s dying.
The doctor told me he only had pneumonia and he was fine. I point blank asked if the cancer was back in his lungs. Yes, but it’s no big deal and he would take care of when my dad got his strength back.
When dad was able to leave the hospital he couldn’t live alone. He came to live with me. He didn’t put up a fight at all about it. I knew and he knew but again, we didn’t talk about it. My dad was old school and didn’t talk about feelings. You did what had to be done and that was that.
Honoring his silence was the best rule, I thought. We got into our new routine. He stayed in bed almost all the time. He was sent home with home health care. That consisted of help with bathing because he refused to let me do it. It was clear he needed hospice and stronger pain relieving medication. The doctor insisted he only had pneumonia and would be fine.
I stood my ground and got them to give him a ct scan which revealed the truth. Cancer in the lung and kidney. I got hospice, finally, two weeks before he died. The only thing that was discussed was, I told him he would have nurses come do his care from now on. When I gave him his first dose of liquid morphne he tasted it and said, “that’s morphine isn’t it?’ I replied, “yes, I think it’s time don’t you?’ he didn’t reply he just closed his eyes.
I did my best to make him comfortable. Make him any food he wanted but I never encouraged him to eat. He was quiet most of the time and we didn’t talk about anything significant.
I felt I was doing much better this time as far as knowing what was happening and what to do. I just couldn’t bring myself to talk about it and neither could he.
I knew my brother’s death would arrived soon enough, but I had to get through this one and focus on our dad for the moment.
Dad died with myself, my sister, her children and mine present. It was not a pleasant death because of internal bleeding but we did the best we could with what we had to work with and the knowledge we knew.
