Hangin' in there

Hello
My father died in his sleep at home on June 23, 2007. He had been discharged from the hospital the night before at 11:30. I wish that I knew the end was imminent but thought he'd last weeks or months. I could have given him more of a goodbye. At least I told him I loved him when he was in the hospital. He was to get home health care and perhaps hospice. He had congestive heart failure, perhaps kidney failure, and only 10% heart effectiveness upon admission to the hospital the previous weekend.

There was nothing anyone could do to reverse his dying process. I went to the hospital to room 508 that night. He was conscious and alert though very weak and unable to drink, eat, or urinate. The hospital would let him out only if he could urinate. He had little fluid in his bladder scan and the nurse and tech did an in/out Foley catheterization. His pulse ox was zero despite using two sensor modules, two readers, and an earpiece. His radial pulse was very weak. The nurse called the doctor and thought he were having an anxiety attack. They had to give him oxygen in a nasal cannula before he was strong enough to go much of anywhere. In fact, as he left the hospital he was so weak it took three of us to barely get him out of my sister's red SUV and into the transport wheelchair.

I decided to lay in the hospital bed so I could be near her. Dad wanted to sleep in the regular bed. He I guess knew he were dying. Mom had to page me two or three times. One time he was inverted in bed with his head at the foot. Then Mom paged me to ask if a cat were in the room. Smokey, the female kitty, snores loudly sometimes. My mother wonders if it were Dad having agonal breathing or some other dyspnea instead of Smokey's snoring.

I managed to hold my composure though I was shaken when I found him dead. He had apparently been dead a few hours as rigor had set in. I had had courses in CPR and First Responder but they didn't prepare me for much of how to deal with a dead father. I did have sense enough to treat the room as a "crime" scene and ordered it untouched until authorities came. I called the sheriff. My mother asked to be helped into my bedroom. My youngest sister came in right after I got off the phone with the dispatcher.

My dad's brother came about the same time the firefighters did and so did my middle sister. She was in tears. My aunt and uncle around the corner came. The firefighters, then the paramedic and her partner the EMT examined my father, ran a strip, and the paramedic called the coroner. The firefighters as well as the deputies were nice though they had to maintain a distance.

The rest of the morning I was more into the "let's do what we have to do" mood. I cut the grass and washed up while my aunt worked so much in the kitchen her feet swelled. I called my cousins, the doctor, my friend, the store I work at, and a multitude of others. The worst I felt that day was when I was tired during the middle of the afternoon. Most people came to the visitation. Dad's silver casket was beautiful. I enjoyed meeting the people from Dad's store and the main offices of the company. Monday's funeral was a graveside affair with dinner in the church meeting hall. I cried the next night and the night of the funeral.

I almost lost it in Starbuck's that Tuesday. I told myself not to think about things and to just relax. I am sure if I think about Dad and my childhood I'll cry again. I was on vacation that weekend and Monday but I took Tuesday and Wednesday off to get situated and make sure I didn't crumble under at work. The worst part is the half-empty house. Most of us want to get our feet back under ourselves.

The store my dad ran had a sign saying, "We Miss You". It was my dad's second home for almost twenty years. If you never knew him you missed something.
Edited 10/7/07