Thoughts about my dad

I had begun to notice how forgetful he was. The master of outdoor grilling now was serving his juicy wonderful hamburgers, dry. We had conversations behind his back and I spoke to her about getting him to the doctor for a check up, but I felt dismissed and told everything was fine, and that I was over reacting. I was certain he had Alzheimer’s.

September 23, 2003 I received a phone call from my mom and my father didn’t have Alzheimer’s. They had indeed gone to the doctor. My dad had a growth on his brain at that time but we didn’t know much more than that. The conversations leading up to the visit with the neurosurgeon were very surreal.

My father walked into the hospital, had a biopsy done on his brain while he was awake, he elected this. Apparently it’s not as painful as we would imagine, but still, I’d need at least a half dozen tranquilizers. Not my dad though, he was tough.

He had already prepped my brother and I in that if it was operable that he would not have the surgery if there was a possibility of it leaving him incapacitated. He didn’t want that burden on us. He didn’t want to live without his dignity.

The tumor wasn’t operable. My dad was weeks away from his 61st birthday when we found out.

My father and our family began the preparations for his death while planning what to do for his birthday. Everyday, every conversation became those that you want to have importance, as you knew they were going to be the last. You don’t get any do-overs from this point, it is final.

It’s not a time to be shy about what you want to say, or need to say, you don’t know how long you have. My fathers tumor was very unstable and grew quickly, and in the beginning I felt so afraid that any moment he would just fall over dead. It didn’t work like that though.

My fathers death came in stages, each one more horrid than the prior. First he couldn’t BBQ like he used to, then he couldn’t/shouldn’t drive, the chemo made him so sick, his mind began to soften and reality became more blurry he would drift back and forth..and he knew that.

I asked him one time, okay I asked him more than once to be sure, but I asked him while he was losing his mind if he knew what was going on when he wasn’t making sense, if he knew what he wanted to say but other words came out. He said yes. I can’t imagine how that would be but what I can imagine is how horrible that would be. Especially when people began to talk over him to one another about him.

Mom took the knobs off the stove so he wouldn’t burn the house down on accident. Shortly thereafter a family friend would come spend the day with dad, and then there was a nurse who came. The walkers, the wheelchairs, the big recliner my mom bought for him to be comfortable in. It was indeed a comfortable rocking recliner.

My mother and I had some pretty bad fights.

I can’t imagine what it had to be like to receive word from your doctor you are going to die, and then have to tell this to your family, to your kids.

My dad was my hero. He was always there for me, even sometimes when maybe I didn’t deserve it so much. For example the time my transmission seized because I …I forget..there was some sort of fluid I needed to put in or check and I hadn’t and it got messed up, and he fixed it for me. and that time I drive my car in the snow with bald tires and had an accident…guess who towed my car, and had it fixed? This didn’t come without a talking to of course, and I always felt so terrible and promised to be better the next time.

One time when I was little, I think I was about 10? maybe 9 but not very old at all. My little brother is five years younger than me….and my parents had this odd sense of humor and always playing practical jokes on us. I finally had thought of a way to get them back !! It was obvious…tell my brother to go hide and I’ll run in the house screaming that he had been hit by a car. *sighs* yeah I know now..but at the time seemed like a great plan.

I was in some pretty big trouble. Sent to my room. I felt bad, I was just trying to be funny, everyone needed to lighten up. My dad was quiet and went back to the garage and I was sent to my room.

HOURS go by.

My dad comes in my room and I have a swollen face from crying. I was really sorry. My dad handed me this really beautiful wooden doll bed for me to play dolls with. He had been making it in the garage prior to my running through the house screaming about my poor brother. Dad didn’t say too much. I sure felt small and full of love for my dad. I sure wish I still had that doll cradle. I know I still have the lesson, and that was of compassion and love no matter what, even when you have been naughty, that’s real love. Oh sure I was still in trouble, and any playing to be done was going to be from the confines of my room but I was still loved by my dad.

You know…I don’t think my little brother ever got in an ounce of trouble for that….they liked him best of course.