The summer David and I were married, he had skin cancer....I wasn't suprised at all. He was a red haired,blue-eyed white guy from Oregon. He lived in Palm Springs, and golfed three or four times a week. If facebook had existed then, I would have described our relationship as "it's complicated". He went thru chemo and radiation because he had always wanted to walk me down the aisle. He adored the man I married, and while I was a bit jealous of that, I loved getting to know him better.
He came to see my son when he was born. Such a proud grandpa! Full of compliments about my mothering skills, and what a great husband I had....maybe there actually was a relationship here? A year later, another son...this one was the apple of his eye...I even named him after my father's father.
When my daughter was born three years later...there he was. Sure that Hope was the most beautiful girl ever born...as beautiful as I was, he said! I never knew he thought that! He played with the boys and sang to my girl, and wanted to just talk to me....he apologized for his own mistakes as a parent, and while I couldn't forgive him, I truly appreciated the effort and honesty. He said they found some more cancer...in his lymph glands...and I started to prepare for the worst.
He called and told me he had a bit of surgery to remove the cancer, and that he was doing great! I was happy for him, because he seemed so afraid of dying. As a kid, I thought he wasn't afraid of anything...so the vulnerability suprised me a bit. When I saw him at my daughter's first birthday, he looked like he had been sick...and told me that he was well. I was just happy that whatever kind of parent he was to me, my kids loved him, and he was doing everything I thought a grandpa should...and I didn't need a parent anymore, just a friend.
We took the kids to Disneyland last year.....and he met us for dinner. He told me that his hip and back hurt all the time....and I told him to go to the doctor. I told him maybe he fractured something, as he was 80 years old, and that could happen. I knew it wasn't a fracture though...my Dad grew up on a dairy, and hardly a day goes by where he doesn't have a bowl of ice cream...calcium was NOT an issue.
So, he went to the doctor...and found out that he had bone cancer. He called and told me and told me he planned to fight it again. I believed him. He took chemo that made him so ill he could barely walk. He complained to me about how much the drugs cost - I told him that I couldn't think of anything better to spend lots of money on. He changed to an even more expensive chemo and we repeated the same conversation. He felt better, even did a little gardening.
Then, a phone call on a Monday night. His wife said "The doctor said I should call you - he's in the hospital"....so I came. I drove 400 miles faster than I ever had before. By the time I got there, he had already had 4 transfusions and been released from the hospital. I wondered why I hurried, almost sure that he had won another skirmish. The Oncologist called that night. Dad overheard the doc tell my stepmother that he had done all he could and that we should now call hospice. My dad cried. I tried to keep believing, telling him that hospice can last for months. He agreed with me, but I don't think he believed me.
He asked me to make sure that his legal affairs were in order. I made all the phone calls, and prepared meals while he napped and tried to gain the strength he needed to make one more doctors office visit. He ate, and asked for more ice cream. I sat in the exam room with him while Dr. Saab repeated his medical history like a litany " Three types of cancer within the past 15 years, and a current diagnosis of multiple myeloma, for which there is no cure...." And I looked at my Dad. Strong but shaken. We teared up a little, but not too much. We accepted the referrals, and said goodbye to the office staff. It felt so surreal. I went to the grocery store and made another meal for him, along with a dish of ice cream.
We met with nurses, and caseworkers. I thought he was getting good care...so I made plans to return to my "normal life" with a promise to visit with the kids in a week or so.
Then the phone calls started. Monday - my stepsister called and told me that she wasn't going to let her mother die trying to take care of my dad...left as a message on my voicemail. I first heard it driving home from work. I was so devastated, I pulled over to the side of the road, and called my husband....for the next half hour, all I could do was react. I called my sister and another cousin and tattled about my dumbass stepsister. They cooed and coddled me and righteously agreed with me.
Tuesday - they told me that they were firing the hospice group and going with one my stepsister had heard about. I was pissed....because I didn't know who any of those people were, and I wanted to make sure Dad was getting cared for. I imagined them keeping him doped up on morphine and wasting away. I talked to my husband.
Wednesday - they told me that they weren't able to care for my Dad and needed some help. Mary told me that her nephew would come and be his nursemaid. I cried at work again. She called me later that afternoon to say that her nephew couldn't come after all. David immediately volunteered. I told her he would be there on Thursday.
Thursday - We had plans to fly David down there, and I would follow after he told me what was actually going on. My brother called me a bitch in a text, and I got another phone call, from Linda....she said he was even weaker today and that he was going downhill fast. I left work at 10am, and cried all the way home. We packed up the car, pulled the kids out of school, and drove 400 miles again.
When I got there, he had been thrashing and trying to get out of bed. He was sleeping and drugged, and I put my arms around him and told him it was OK, that I was here. He calmed down, and went back to sleep. The nurse came, and David sent me to bed with the words "Your Dad and I are going to watch SportsCenter together"...nevermind that he was unconscious. I went to bed, and David sat with him until 5am.
On Friday, the attendant came. She bathed and shaved him while I had my coffee. I came and stood around while the nurse checked his vital signs. Her name was Ruby and she told me that he was dying. She showed me the clues: blue fingernails, mottled skin on his feet....she showed me how to move him up in his bed so that he could breathe easier. She gave him an enema so that he was more comfortable...sounds weird, but it was true. She didn't make me feel embarassed that I had never seen him naked and didn't want to now either. I went in and out of the room as I felt comfortable, and she answered every question. Ruby also talked to Dad and treated him as a person. She told me to talk to him. I knew that, but it still made it easier. I told him I loved him and that it was OK to go.
After spending all that time with him, I knew he needed nursing care. Mary and I made phone calls, and she agreed to come and look at the nearest convalescent home. I went with her. I saw her shock when she realized this is where her husband would die. I was the "expert" here, having been through it with my Father In Law 5 years ago. She agreed to have him moved. I was relived, that he would have more people like Ruby around...
Ruby was in the office when the transport call came. She told them that he needed to be assesed before he could be moved. So Ruby was back in the room with my Dad. He would have loved her, if he knew her. She took his vital signs again and told me that he could not be moved, because he was "actively dying". We talked about what that meant and she showed me some more signs. She called in and asked for continuous care, so that we would have an LVN or RN there 24/7 until he died. I told her thank you and she gave report to the next nurse.
I went to the store to buy stuff for dinner. I was struck by the sunset - a gorgeous pink and gold, one of the nicest I've seen in a long time. I knew it was for Dad. I called my sister and told her it was near. I talked to my friend Marnie about everything but my Dad....and I drove back to the house.
I walked in thru the garage, and stopped in his room. I told him I was here, and that I loved him. The new nurse, Gail, commented on how he responded to me. His breathing changed...longer pauses between breaths. I thought it was just his apnea, and went to the kitchen. The nurse yelled down the the hall "MARY!! MARY! Come Quick!!!! So we did....and he was gone.
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