In loving memory of my dad...

After a long and courageous fight, my father lost his battle with lung cancer.

He was diagnosed Aug 6, 2009.  He went through 3 lines of chemo.  He was about to start a 4th line despite the research showing little positive.  Up until this point to look at my dad you would never know that he was sick.  He was a big burly guy. 

They decided to put in a port to administer this line of chemo.  As a result on Nov 11, 2011 he had a massive heart attack.  Stints were ordered and somewhere between the cath lab and CCU he went into a-fib.  He felt better and was "ready to go home" that night.  A couple of days later they tried to convert him back to normal sinus....unsuccessfully.  The next day another try....yet again unsuccessful.  The next day and a specialist doing the conversion...1 attempt and we are back to normal sinus.  Thank you Jesus!

He was in the hospital just shy of a week.  They changed his anticoag therapy and decided to place a PICC line instead of the port.  The PICC was placed and all seemed to be on its way.  Then he noticed that his stool was black and tarry.  His wife called and asked my opinion (as I am a nurse).  The next morning they advised him to go to the ER.  After drawing blood and several other tests, he seemed to be stable but they wanted to do more tests.

Keep in mind that it has been maybe a week to 2 weeks since his last visit to the hospital.  Dad's tolerance for hospitals is no more than 2 days so he was... needless to say...unhappy.  Bless his little heart.

They did an upper GI and all was clear.  The next day he was scheduled for the lower GI.  They postponed it.  He was not happy due to 1...the variety of food and 2...the NPO status.  They promised to do the lower the following day.  All came back clear...don't know why the stool was black and tarry.  They also discovered that the PICC had a clot and that got pulled.  He is sent home with a lot of medication on board yet and is quite forgetful.  Then 4 hours later he spikes a temp and the arm where the PICC was is swollen....back to the ER.

The docs start antibiotics due to the temp but later think that it was the body's reaction to the clot.  At this point I know that the inevitable is around the corner. 

Several days later the hospice consult happened.  As I had anticipated dad decided to go home on hospice care.  While it was a relieve it brought to the forefront the reality of the situation....Dad was loosing his battle.  HOWEVER, this would enable him to remain comfortable.  He had told me that he just wanted to be home...in his own bed....with his wife and petting his puppy. 

The nurses advised that the kids come sooner rather than later.  My sister had already planned to be there at Christmas and moved up her departure date.  I arrived the day after she left.  I had been prepared for a skinnier dad, but the reality of what I saw was heart breaking.  He had not lost too much weight but the spark / twinkle in his eye was gone.  I knew at that point the end of this journey was near. 

That night was a bit restless but acceptable.  Through all of the his shortness of breath he still had moments of laughter.  My husband who last visit was clean shaven now has a moustache.  My husband jokingly said that it wasn't a moustache ... that he had trained a hampster to sit there.  My dad just sat there...looked up and said, "row...row"  from that silly insurance commercial.  Needless to say the entire room lost it in laughter. 

That night was completely restless.  Dad was unable to get comfortable or sleep.  At 5 in the morning we called the hospice nurse.  She was at the house by 6.  I gave her a list of medications that I would like to see ordered for him.  Some of which they had never seen used in such a manner but are effective.  I got 9 out of 10 items that I wanted.  The most important of which was the lorazepam.  The nurse was unable to get the meds to the house until after 3 in the afternoon so my husband and I went and picked them up. 

I gave him the first dose of lorazepam and he actually slept comfortably for about and hour and a half.  While my husband and I were out getting the medication dad had a lazy boy chair delivered.  His wife told me that he was a bit unsteady on his feet. That morning my gut started to tell me that we had 2 days.  The nurse in me knew it to be true, but the daughter didn't want it to be right.

Later that evening his wife was at the computer and my husband was in the kitchen.  I knelt down in front of him and said that we needed to talk.  Keep in mind that he would lift his eyes but wasn't moving his head much.  Dad said ok.  I (through tears) told him that when the time comes to go...it would be ok..his wife has a good family around her and I have my husband.  Dad shook his head yes.  I proceeded to tell him more ... and then had to put some humor in it.  His sister who had already past was a strong, independent woman who did need a man for anything.  I told dad...when he got up there to give my aunt hell and that I didn't care what she said ...I found a good man.  My dad then laughed wholeheartedly and said "yeah, well she doesn't know everything."  You could almost feel his relief.

While this was probably the most difficult conversation I have ever had to have...it will remain the most treasured conversation I have ever had with my father.

After this dad started to trace the tubing of his nasal cannula.  I asked him what he was looking for and he said that he wanted to see where it was plugged in.  I explained that it was plugged in to the concentrator on the other side of the wall. That satisfied him.  He repeated this a couple of more times.  The last time he was in the middle of tracing it and looked up into the loft above the living room.  His eyes connected with someone or something.  I asked him what he was looking at.  He said that he was looking to see if there was anyone up there.  I asked him if there was anyone there.  He very hesitantly said "no"  Now I know my dad and being a hospice nurse this just confirmed the fact that you do get escorted on to the next journey.  I think dad didn't want to scare me. 

Shortly after this it was time for Jeopardy.  Dad's routine was to go to bed and watch Jeopardy and Wheel of Fortune in bed and then sleep.  Dad wanted to go to bed.  I told him give me a half hour and we would do some medication that would help him sleep.  He said that sounded good. 

The time came....gave him his medication.  A couple of minutes to regain his breath and he was ready to go to bed.  Keep in mind I was prepared for him to be unsteady on his feet.  I gave him a little boost up out of the chair, but he marched himself from the chair to his bed.  We got him comfortable and I left the room.  The next morning at 12:40am my father left the body of this world and began the journey of everlasting life. 

Looking back, dad had a plan...worked it...and he waited for me to get there to help him succeed in completing this plan.  It was just a confirmation of that special connection between daddy and his little girl. 

Sorry for rambling on...This picture was taken this past May.  Check out that spark / twinkle.  Thank you all for all of your support, love and prayers.  He is at peace now!