I miss my Daddy
I am new here to posting, although I have been lurking on the boards for awhile. I decided to register and start posting because I just lost my Dad. Sorry if this is long...
My Daddy fought Prostate Cancer for 17 years, and he fought it with his entire being. About 3 years ago, the cancer became more aggressive and he started rounds of Chemo. It spread to his bones, which made walking for him painful, but he managed to make it to my wedding 2 years ago. That was the last time I saw until last month.
About a year ago, the cancer became even more aggressive. More Chemo, a round of targeted radiation earlier this year, and things seemed OK. Then he was told that his PSA levels were high, the cancer wasnt shrinking, and another "experimental round" of chemo. It didnt help, and in fact was making his quality of life worse. Too tired to get out of bed. Sick, vomiting... etc. So, 6 weeks ago he called me to tell me he would be stopping his chemo. He said that they gave him about 6-12 months.
My Dad was all about dignity and wanting to die with dignity.... but in his final week, he was so week he couldn't make it to the bathroom and was soiling himself. He was going downhill fast, and if it wasnt for my sister, his landlord and his doctor, he would have died, with no dignity, alone at home.
They transferred him to Palpiative Care, where he was happy, eating and talking the 1st couple of days.... then I got the call that he was unresponsive and had hours.
My, sister, husband, oldest daughter and I rushed to his bedside, where I will never forget him struggling to breath. He was hooked up to oxygen through his nose and that's all. They would give him morphine for pain, and when saliva would build up in his mouth, they would suction it out. That was it. They said he didnt seem to be in a lot of pain, because he was on such a low dose of morphine.
The next day was worse. He seems to be struggling so much,.. and that memory of him is seared into my brain.
Not the memory of how for one moment, he was able to become lucid enough to open his eyes and grunt at us while we were at his bedside, not the memory of how peaceful he looked after he did pass, but the image of him struggling to breath his final day.
How do I get that image out of my head? It strikes me at the oddest moments.....when I least expect it.
I am also trying to deal with anger, and guilt, and so many other things... and that one image doesnt help......
Thanks for listening