Sunday, October 14, 2007

142 what's going on

My dad is still alive in the hospital. He regains consciousness for maybe a minute or less, seems like he recognizes me, but his speech is almost entirely gone, his coordination is gone, and he spends most of the time with his eyes closed, mumbling wordlessly, his hands out like a blind man searching. He'll hold my hand, but not as if it's a hand, or my hand in particular, just something to grab onto--he actually squeezes pretty hard. Yesterday his head was still bleeding on the outside where they put the stitches in so I have to assume it's still bleeding inside too, but I don't know. I haven't talked to a doctor since the ER one on Thursday.
I went to the funeral home on Friday and planned his funeral, picked everything out, got a price, etc. One less thing for my mom to do--I dropped all the literature and pricing off at her house. It was awful to do--I can't imagine having to do that when someone who has not been ill dies without warning. Overwhelming, all the choices and all the money you have to spend.
Even more awful, when I came out, some absolute idiot had put fliers for a new restaurant on all the cars in the parking lot--the cars of people there for the 2 wakes being held. I wanted to call that restaurant and scream at them for being insensitive. I'll NEVER eat there, that's for sure.

4 comments:

e said...

Bert,
I can't tell you how much I appreciate you sharing this experience. It really helps us prepare for when our own situation escalates (degenerates?) to this point. I have learned so much here, you have really opened my eyes. Too bad the view sucks.

May you and your family find the strength to get through this. I am hoping that your dad is headed to a better place and that some semblance of normal will return to you and your mom.

Patty McNally Doherty said...

Bert,

Please let your mother know what a difference you, her daughter, has made in the lives of so many strangers. Through your eyes, we are able to view what others find find so hard to believe. The golden years are not what we imagine them to be.

My dad used to lay in bed with his eyes closed, his hands reaching up to the sky as if dancing. I began to wonder if he was already in a different place, and just waiting for his body to catch up.

I had a dream once, too, of walking into his nursing home room, and seeing his body, translucent, lying in his bed. But he was also sitting on the edge of his bed, just looking out the window, patiently waiting.

All my best, and I've posted your request "to send healing energy, love, light, whatever, please send it for his pain-free and speedy passage to the other side." on my blog as well.

Love,
Patty

Dee said...

(( hugs ))) So sorry. D

Mona Johnson said...

Bert,

Thanks for posting every painful detail. It's important to document how this goes.

Your mom is lucky to have you with her through this.

We're all thinking of you...

Mona