3/11/03

Mom called last week, Weds., dad had been admitted to the hospital. He’d just been going downhill since and not recovering from the Shingles, and had been in such pain. I was actually glad he went in the hosp. in hopes they could help him with that pain.

I went up Thurs. to see him and stay with mom, ended up staying until Sunday. Dad had gotten progressively worse. He has a multitude of things, but mainly it’s the kidney disease – it’s advanced further and faster then expected.

Right now he is at risk for a stroke. He would not survive it and the doctors and nurses are trying to stabilize him and keep him stable, of course so this won’t happen. It’s very bad. I cannot bear to think of him-it was much better when I was close, you know, up there…well,not better, but…easier I guess. I’m 3 hours away now, to think of him and how he looked and was–it causes a very real physical pain that sort of takes my breath for a moment.

I did so well until Sunday, leaving him, I started to cry. Then he did-he’s so very weak and drugged-then mom did. I was so mad at myself, having done well up to that point, but…I managed to get my things together and out of town without much more-mom worked with me, quickly-both of us were just done in I think…and I left for home around noon.

I had to talk to myself firmly all the way home, but when I got back and Carl held Logan up to me saying “Grandma’s home!” and Logan smiled his precious smile, I was gone. Holding him and weeping-and then he just simply melted into me with his little arms around my neck…Carl started crying (I seem to be good at that lately) and woke Brie from her nap. She hollered at him (hates to be woke up) and thus brought some much needed comic relief to the situation. I could not get hold of myself tho’, so she called hubs (I stopped there first) and he came over.

I had to tell him then and that was hard to say and hard for him to hear…dad like that. Sunday night, we were all exhausted. Yesterday I was still so drained, but better, would only start to cry off and on, but could talk myself out of it. Vic (sis) called yesterday afternoon, and we talked a bit. She’d talked to the doctor and the news was no better. Dad’s organs are basically shutting down. His kidneys are not working, prostrate, all of it. He cannot walk, and has a catheter still. She and her family are coming home, this weekend or next-as soon as they all can get off. It’s a long trip and they will come together of course. Rich, my younger bro., I haven’t talked to since Sat. night. he didn’t call last night. I doubt he could just yet, mom would’ve have just told him and he’ll be making plans to come. I was half afraid he’d call. Neither of us could’ve spoken.

I know I’m just rambling. Last night, after talking with Vic then telling hubs, I was so shaky-internally and externally-I thought I would pass out or something. So I ate a big choc. egg for the sugar and it helped. Since then I’ve been better, but this morning now, so nervous and nauseous…I thought I’d better try and write and maybe it would help. It is actually. But I’m just writing as it comes into my head. But it’s helping.

One of the absolute worst things that happened yesterday and why I got into such a state was that I called mom-to tell her I’d spoken to Vic and so I knew what the doctor said. And mom said “Vicki talked to the doctor? When? I’ve been waiting for a call-what did he say?” And I had to tell her. I had to tell her about the stroke, about dads organs failing, about the prognosis.

It’s not like we didn’t know, mom and I, I mean we were there. We saw dad, we saw him go downhill every day. But to hear it for a fact is something different. She didn’t fall to pieces or anything. Not mom, she’d do that later not in front of one of her children. But she mayaswell have becuz it killed me anyway.

That’s when I started feeling dizzy and sick and faint and the shaking started. After I got done talking to her. We’d just agreed that we had a new reality to deal with here and how we must be strong and support each other (all of us) and etc…mom said she didn’t want him to linger like this… Oh it’s amazing how you can talk and say things sensibly even while in sort of a shock.

My bro. Greg is up there too, he was having quite a time, angry and frustrated. We, none of us handle emotions well at all. My sister and I are far better then the boys, well marginally better anyway. I asked Vic to call him last night as well. She’s the oldest and he listens to her. He hates to admit it’s this bad. He kept saying “Dad’s tough, he’ll be alright, he’s strong as an ox…” He tried to talk up to dad, “C’mon dad, you gotta rest up here, so you can get better, I gotta get my boat in and I need you to help me…” Finally dad said, “Cut it out Greggie, cut it out.” in this weak voice. He knew what Greg was trying to do, but he couldn’t. That’s what about did me in, that was right before I left to come home.

What a fucking nightmare. I cannot stop thinking of dad and how he looked. He’s lost 30 lbs this past month. I have to consciously stop myself from these thoughts over and over and over and it’s tiring and maybe by writing a little I can get a firm grip on this stupid memory/mind.

Dad was pretty dopey, but aware. He knows us and stuff, confused on where he is and stuff-but that’s the drugs. He’d say things like he’s no good and should just get a box for him, like Gene. (His oldest brother Gene died right after Christmas and was cremated-it bothered dad terribly that such a big man could be reduced to a small box of ashes…oh there is much family history I cannot possibly get into here, but anyway, that’s what he meant.) He’d just say it matter of fact, not pitying himself. And we’ve always had a morbid sense of humor in our family. A keen sense of the ridiculous. So that’s where those comments would come from, in part.) Or he’d get weepy and then say it’s a heck of a thing to get so emotional at such a late age. The nurses like him very much, say he’s so funny. I just wish they could keep him in bed. He fell the first 4 nights he was in there. The first night he gashed his head open and sliced his arm when he fell.

He’s always gotten up in the middle of the night. Always. And now, with the drugs, he’s so confused, he gets up to go to the bathroom (or that first night to visit an old friend??) and then goes down because he’s no strength at all thru’ the pelvic area. And they CANNOT put the sides up. It’s against the fucking law. So he’s up and down before they have time to respond to his alarm. It’s been one thing after another. Poor poppa.

I tried to get it through to Vic how bad it was, how bad he was. But she would not (can not?) take it in. She is so far away, I feel so bad for her and Rich, it’s bad enough right now being 3 hours away let alone 12 hours or more, like Vic, and 22 like Rich. Rich’ll prob. fly home though, he’s in Montana. He owns his own company so that’s easier and yet harder, to get away. But he’ll be here. I don’t want to scare Vic, but I don’t want her to put it off for a week or two and be too late.

But the doc said that a stroke is impossible to predict. It could happen tomorrow, in 3 weeks, 2 months, 6 months. It will happen apparently, but when, no one can say of course. Vic tends to fall apart a lot easier then me, but then I’ve had more practise at having to be “tough”.

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