less than 4 weeks left
Two days ago my mom was scheduling an appointment with her pain management doctor’s office.
You’re due to come in 4 weeks from today, the secretary said.
Oh, but I have to bring my husband in to get his teeth cleaned that morning, my mom replied.
Why don’t we cancel dad’s appointment? I asked my mom from across the room.
Why would we cancel his appointment? He needs his teeth cleaned.
I didn’t have the heart to say anything more.
I was silent.
She scheduled her appointment for the afternoon following my dad’s teeth cleaning appointment.
In 4 weeks.
Early yesterday morning my mom asked me to order some more bed pads for my father.
He only has enough for 4 more weeks, she said.
Only 4 weeks, I thought. That will be more than enough.
The Hospice News
At 10am I met with my dad’s hospice nurse.
He can’t swallow any more. He can’t even swallow his own saliva.
All he does is cough and choke and we have to use this suction tube so he doesn’t breathe anything in.
So, we think it’s best to discontinue all foods, liquids, and medicines.
Yes, it’s best, I replied.
At the moment my mind wasn’t so much on my father.
My mind was on my mother.
How was she going to handle this?
Was I going to have to tell her?
She doesn’t even think my father is dying.
I, on the other hand, knew this was coming.
Last week the hospice nurse told me,
Since he hardly eats, he doesn’t need his cholesterol medicine anymore.
And maybe next week he’ll get off more of his medicines, or maybe even all of them.
My mom never seemed to want to meet with the hospice team,
So, as time went on I’m the only one that got the updates.
The Last Week
I watched my father’s decline over the last week.
He knew who I was up until two days ago.
When I asked him who I was he always got it right. Well, most of the time.
Sometimes he did say my sister’s name, which really annoyed me.
She’s never even here, I thought.
Even as his voice got softer and softer. I could still read his lips.
He still knew me.
And, he still smiled a faint smile.
The Last Two Days
The last two days he hasn’t smiled.
He doesn’t seem to know us.
He’s barely been able to stay awake.
And, he doesn’t want to eat.
I’ve seen the end in plain sight.
My mom hasn’t.
Luckily my mom walked into the room as the hospice nurse was finishing up her visit.
I knew my mom was coming.
She was coming for me to cut my dad’s hair.
We were going to prop him up in the chair and give him a good shave and a haircut.
She was bringing the scissors and the hair cape.
Instead, the nurse told her the news.
He’s not sitting up in the chair again.
He’s not going to any more dinners with us.
Then, the tears started flowing and flowing.
That was shocking, my mom said hours later.
How did this happen so fast?
I had no answer to her question.
I know. It’s sad. I responded.
My dad died in the middle of the night.
If you’re going through grief right now, I’m right there with you.
Sending hugs,
xoxo Lani
