This isn't real..
How is it that my dad beat cancer, but couldn't make it through pnuemonia?
The doctors said the chemo and radiation would be hard on his body, they said he'd be really sick..but they also said if he could make it through those things, he could make it through anything. Either they lied, or they just don't know what they're talking about!
One of his last nights, while I was at the hospital, his Oncologist called me. He was telling me we couldn't give up on my dad because he had fought so hard and pretty much beat the cancer. Didn't this man know, I would never give up on my dad! But as it turned out, it wasn't my choice. It would seem that the poison they injected into my dad over the course of the last few months is what ultimately ended his life.
The last time I saw my dad before his passing was August 29th. He flew home and spent the week visiting everyone and then was going home for his final radiation and to hopefully pack and move back to California. On September 11th I found out he was in the hospital. Pnuemonia and Septic Shock they said. My sisters went out before me and watched over dad. They were supposed to be taking care of him, making sure he got the best care. As it turns out, they were gutless idiots and had decided before I even got there on Friday that they wanted to turn off the ventilator.
When I did get there, I sat with dad for hours on end. Talking to him, telling him about my boys and life in the last few weeks. I told him to rest and let his body and the medicine fight the infection. I know he heard me. Several times he would respond slightly. He kept trying to lift his hand and tell me something. What? I'll never know? God, I wanted to believe I would talk to him again. Hear his voice, see his smile. I promised to take better care of him...I thought he would pull through. But he couldn't do it. Some time that weekend he had the stroke and it changed everything. He could live on life support for a long time the doctor said, because his brain stem was not harmed. But the part of his brain that was him, "my dad", was gone. This was Sunday afternoon.
My little sister left the next morning. She had to go home to her kids and job she said, she couldn't afford to take any more time off work. My older sister stuck around until Wednesday morning, but she was of no support. Pretty much since I'd got there on Friday, she'd been saying she just wanted to go home. She missed her husband and her son. My dad is dying and they want to go back to their meaningless lives!
The doctor told me Wednesday afternoon that dad wasn't going to recover and it was ok to consider withdrawing care. I signed the paper to remove the vent and sat with my dad for the next two hours. I sat with him and gave him as much strength as I could muster. His lady friend was in praying over him when I remember the Infectious Disease doctor stopping and looking in at his monitors. "With blood pressure that low, his brain isn't getting enough oxygen. It won't be long now."
I went in and held dads hand until the end. It was awful. He didn't seem to be in pain. But it wasn't ok. I know my dad didn't want to die yet.
I sit around waiting for him to call everyday like he used to. I can't stop thinking about him. I can't fall asleep at night because my mind races, running over and over the things I could've done to be a better daughter. My dad was only 53, he shouldn't be dead yet! I just want him back..This can't be real.
Am I ever going to be at peace? Will this ever get easier?