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I actually tried to post about this before, but I couldn't. I'm finding that it's very hard to talk about.
My father died on July 25th.
I'd gone to see him two weeks earlier, because I got the call that he wasn't doing well. I hadn't wanted to go, because I didn't want to remember him in his hospital bed. But I went anyway and I took Tadlet, (who'd gotten home that day from a choral trip to Denver,) and we went. Dad wasn't lucid for the first two days, but we spent a lot of time there anyway. (They'd done some test, I think an MRI, which meant giving him Ativan and that knocked him out for those two days.) He was awake and lucid on the third day and spent a lot of time holding my hand, and I was able to tell him I loved him and he said it back to me. He told Logan to be a good boy.
I hadn't wanted to go. For the rest of my life, I'll be grateful I went. And that I took Logan and showed him that it's just what you do.
There were a lot of ups and downs on that trip. The test showed that what he had was some kind of virus that attacks the insulation of the neurons, which causes paralysis. It usually only attacks the young, and it goes fast, so no one realized. It took about 8 months to work on my father, he had one HELL of a constitution. But they also think he had ALS, (Lou Gehrig's disease,) and when the treatments for the first one seemed not to be working, we all opted not to keep going with them. He also had some hairline spinal fractures.
So, he went to hospice and flirted with the nurses right up to the end. I'll write about the funeral when I'm not about to go to work.
Also, if I don't respond to comments for a while, it's not that I don't see them. I thank you in advance. It's just very, very hard for me to talk about this. I didn't have the closest relationship to him, but we loved each other, and I miss him.
My father died on July 25th.
I'd gone to see him two weeks earlier, because I got the call that he wasn't doing well. I hadn't wanted to go, because I didn't want to remember him in his hospital bed. But I went anyway and I took Tadlet, (who'd gotten home that day from a choral trip to Denver,) and we went. Dad wasn't lucid for the first two days, but we spent a lot of time there anyway. (They'd done some test, I think an MRI, which meant giving him Ativan and that knocked him out for those two days.) He was awake and lucid on the third day and spent a lot of time holding my hand, and I was able to tell him I loved him and he said it back to me. He told Logan to be a good boy.
I hadn't wanted to go. For the rest of my life, I'll be grateful I went. And that I took Logan and showed him that it's just what you do.
There were a lot of ups and downs on that trip. The test showed that what he had was some kind of virus that attacks the insulation of the neurons, which causes paralysis. It usually only attacks the young, and it goes fast, so no one realized. It took about 8 months to work on my father, he had one HELL of a constitution. But they also think he had ALS, (Lou Gehrig's disease,) and when the treatments for the first one seemed not to be working, we all opted not to keep going with them. He also had some hairline spinal fractures.
So, he went to hospice and flirted with the nurses right up to the end. I'll write about the funeral when I'm not about to go to work.
Also, if I don't respond to comments for a while, it's not that I don't see them. I thank you in advance. It's just very, very hard for me to talk about this. I didn't have the closest relationship to him, but we loved each other, and I miss him.