It was 9:00 pm the Sunday before Memorial Day, when I heard my son, Dayne say that I had a phone call. I was standing in front of the bathroom mirror blankly staring at myself. I was thinking how much more tired I have become these past three weeks. I opened the bathroom door and grabbed the phone Dayne had holding out for me and put the receiver up to my ear. I could hear someone on the other end saying that they were my father's nurse for the night and that I should come to the hospital quickly because he didn't think my father would make it through the night. I thanked the nurse before I hung up the phone and I continued to stare blankly at myself in the mirror but only this time I wasn't thinking how tired I looked. I was recalling the same situation that happened to my father 34 years ago. I could see it vividly. My father received the exact type of phone that I just had while he was looking at himself in the bathroom mirror. I don't know what he was thinking but still the similarities gave me a chill up and down my spine. I said to myself that this is only a dream because I had already made arrangements earlier that day with Hospice to bring him home tomorrow. I was bringing my father home tomorrow! Ever since my father was admitted to the hospital three weeks ago I have been trying to bring him home because that is all he wanted. Heck, it took me one day from when I originally called the ambulance, to get him to the hospital. He gage me the dirtiest look I have ever seen from anyone when he found out I called the ambulance. When the ambulance came he was able to decline going to the hospital. Finally the next day he said he wanted to go but while there he was impossible to deal with. He kept pulling out his feeding tube, once he pulled out his catheter, and he kept yelling at the doctors and their staff, saying they were good for nothing and to get out of his room. I was there everyday, twice a day for three weeks and now finally I was able to bring him home. My father knew he was coming home so I don't know what they are talking about that my father might not make it through the night. I spent the night with my father and he did make it through the night but he didn't make it through the morning. My father, a retired Army Colonel, a Purple Heart recipient during the Korean War and many other medals. A highly decorated soldier, beginning his military career as an Army Recruiter, to an MP, a Golden Glove boxer representing the Army, making his way up through the ranks as an officer, my daddy, took his last breath at 6:20 am. It was Memorial Day.
The last four years I put my life on hold at first at the request from my father to help him care for my mother who had dementia. It was just the two of us along with my chikdren that cared for my mother. No other of my parents children called or came around. It was rough and stressful especially since my father didn't qualify for Medicaid and we have had nothing but bad experiences with nursing homes. After my mother passed away on July 2, 2011 my father gave up the will to live. This time it was just me and my kids caring for my father until he passed away on May 26, 2014. That chapter in my life has come to an end.
