The last days with my father

Saturday, April 15:
Steve and I drove down to San Diego to spend a few days with my father before he had surgery. He had had a few sugeries in the last few years for a heart valve replacement, appendicitis, and (6 months ago) a colostomy installation. Dad hated hospitals. He was not looking forward to the impending surgery because, as he always said, "people die in hospitals." This planned surgery was to be the most anticipated because it would mean that he would no longer need his colostomy bags. His intestines were being reattached. A happy reason to go under the knife.

Steve and I arrived in the afternoon. My father, my stepmother (Lois), and Steve and I went out to one of my dad's favorite restaurants. We ate a lot and laughed a lot. Dad expressed concern over his impending surgery saying that he's felt great these last weeks and didn't want to face another long recovery.

Sunday, April 16:
Easter morning, we put on our nicer clothes and filed into the car to go to Lois' church. We spent the following afternoon eating a lot and doing crossword puzzles together. We ate and ate and had a generally good day. That night, Dad and I drove Steve to the train station to head back to the OC. He had an appointment on Tuesday morning that he couldn't miss.

Monday, April 17:
Dad and I went out shopping to get some last minute stuff before his surgery and long recovery: shaving lotion, a sudoku book, some rug binding for the rug I was making. That night, I made salmon dinner for Dad and Lois. We made sundaes after dinner. It was a dinner that dad would have probably considered perfect. We had no idea it would be his last. I had to start giving Dad blood-thinner shots to prepare him for Wednesday.

Tuesday, April 18:
I took Dad to the hospital for his pre-op appointment. We got together the lists of his previous surgeries and medications. We drove to the hospital and filled out a lot of paperwork. They asked if he had any special concerns about his visit. He said, "If I die, I can't help that. I'm just tired of hospitals." I watched the lady copy what he said onto his chart. Dad didn't really expect to die. However, he had made sure that his finances were in order and his wife knew where everything was, just in case. He expressed anxiety about the surgery, but that is mainly because it was his first planned surgery in many years(all others were emergency). We spent Tuesday preparing dad's body for the procedure with laxatives and more shots. He was not too comfortable that day, but he was beginning to become more excited about his new life without the stoma. That night, I picked up Steve from the train station, so I would have someone to drive home with on Wednesday evening.

Wednesday, April 19:
The big day had finally arrived! Lois and I got up at 4am and drove dad to the hospital. They prepped him and he was in a good mood, joking with the nurses and us. He waved goodbye and they wheeled him into the surgery wing. We waited and waited and waited and waited. Steve and Rick came to the hospital later in the day. We waited some more. Finally, we got to see dad at around 3:30 that afternoon. All had gone well, but he was in a lot of pain still. We stayed for a little while, but we had to get on the road to avoid the traffic. So, Steve and I left.

Thursday, April 20:
I went to work and then to the gym. At around 1:30, I received a worried call from my stepmom. Dad's kidneys were having trouble. She was very scared. I called Dad in the hospital and he said that his cardiologist had ordered a kidney specialist to come and "save" him. Steve and I were on the road in a few hours. We arrived Thursday evening back at the hospital. We found dad very tired, but in good spirits. I spoke with his primary care, who said that these things happen and can usually be resolved pretty easily. His kidneys were already doing better. He had an EKG that day and all was still good there. Phew! And, we were worried! Steve and I left to get some dinner and decided that Dad could use some rest, so we didn't return after dinner.

Friday, April 21:
We awoke feeling good. We took our time getting ready since the visiting hours didn't start until 11:00am. Steve and I went to the hospital around 10:15. I didn't want to wait until 11, so I asked the security guard if we could go in early. He said yes. Dad was deeply asleep, so we waiting in the visitor room on his floor. We went back to check on him and found two nurses frantically working in there. They appeared to be bathing and changing him, so we waited outside. One of the nurses said that Dad needed to be moved to the ICU because his blood pressure was dropping too fast. She couldn't get approval to move him and the surgeon was unreachable. She was ordering some blood and trying to get a doctor. She said something about Dad having tried to get her attention early that morning, but she was too busy at the time. We went in the room and he was too sleepy to open his eyes, but he did say a few things. Mostly asking when the blood would arrive and answering simple questions. Lois arrived. We held his hands and Steve rubbed his feet. His blood pressure kept steadily going down. I knew it was bad, but not how bad yet. The nurse said she was going to move him to the ICU without approval, so I moved out into the hallway to call Marcie. I went to the second floor because that is where the ICU is. When I was talking to Marcie, the PA system said "code blue room 532." My father's room. I ran back upstairs to find Lois in the waiting room. They wouldn't let us in, thank goodness. I didn't want to see that. The cardiologist came in and said he wasn't responding to what they were doing. Then, he went back to help. After about 5 minutes, he came back. "It's over," he said. I couldn't believe it. I still can't. The nurse was crying, the doctors were stunned. No one seemed to know how this could happen. Was it poor response by the hospital? Maybe. Was it too much medication? Possibly. Was it that Dad simply gave up? Not likely. He was a fighter until the end. I just wish I knew what happened to him those last few hours. I'd like to know he wasn't scared, he was at peace. He seemed peaceful when I saw him. The last thing I ever said to him was, "Don't worry. We are here. We are not going to leave you." But, of course we did. We left him there, so we could find a mortuary to carry out his wishes. Cremation and distribution at sea.