Jesus Christ No More!

Disclaimer: this is not going to be an easy post to read and it was harder to live and write. It is, however, a step towards me healing.

On Tuesday afternoon, I received  a call from my mother. I instinctively knew something was wrong. I was with a customer, but called her back as soon as I could. My father had been taken to the emergency room. My heart dropped. In February, my dad revealed that he had been diagnosed with bladder cancer. At the time, he said he had 3-6 months. This was bad, but he sought no treatment and basically shut us out. So we checked on him, we tried to change his mind, we cherished the times we spent together. I finally got him to agree to go the hospital, but when I showed up he bailed on me. This was now October.  I had honestly given up. You can't help a person who doesn't want to be helped right? And then on November 10th my phone rings. And little did I know, my world was about to be changed.

I get to the hospital and I'm the first of my family to arrive. They wouldn't let me back to see my dad because I had my daughters with me. I was stuck waiting in agony until my family arrived. Once they got there, my sister and I went back first.  He was sleeping or at least trying to.  He had noticeably lost a lot of weight.  I've never seen his arms so small. But his belly was so swollen. I teared up, but stayed strong for my sister. It was hard seeing him like that. He tried to speak, but it was difficult. He wasn't able to form a full sentence, but just mumble a word or two at a time. We left the room and others went back. They did a head CT scan and we were waiting on the results. He was displaying symptoms of a stroke, but the ct scan showed his brain was fine. The doctor began to ask multiple questions about his health, if he had received any adverse diagnoses, how much he drank, etc. we did the best we could to answer questions, but we didn't know much. Dad didn't go to the doctor much. I don't remember him being sick during our childhood. He was always healthy, drank a lot of water, and was highly active. To be fair, he definitely was a drinker and had recently graduated to drinking more liquor. That's how he was dealing with the pain, the fear, the agony. He drank, a lot. 

After talking with the doc, my dad fell asleep. He had used his energy being agitated by all the people around him. Nessa & I made everybody go home and we took my girls home. We were gone about 30 minutes. When we got back, they took Dad to get an abdomen CT scan. The nurse said it would take 10-15 minutes, so we waited in the lobby. After 30 minutes, we went back to check on Dad and he wasn't in the room so we waited. The next thing we heard was a code being called for the CT scan room. We looked at each other with fear. What seemed like minutes later a nurse came in and told us we need to make a decision in regards to a DNR. I think I just about fell over. Unfortunately, Nessa & I knew that he would not have wanted to be revived.  He always said not to let him live on tubes. We ensured his wished were honored. The CT scan was never completed, but my Dad was still alive.

Nessa and I stayed with him a bit longer.  We kept talking to him to try and keep him calm as he kept trying to pull out his IV and oxygen tube. It was literally taking all of his strength to lay there and moan and groan and lift his arms. It was like dealing with a toddler. Suddenly, he lifted his head, looked at me, and said "Jesus Christ No More." I let a tear out and I just said OK Dad. The next couple of hours are a blur.  Eventually Nessa and I decided we needed a break and we decided to head home for a couple hours.  I fell asleep and when I woke up two hours later, I had multiple missed calls. He had passed away. My breath was taken away.

My Dad passed away on Veterans day, November 11, 2105. This is the man that raised me, even though I wasn't his blood.  The man who taught me to ride a bike, to drive, walked me down the aisle, etc. And just like that he was gone. I had to go sign forms at the hospital releasing his body and I got to see him one last time. He looked at peace and I knew he was, but I broke down. And I kept breaking down when I got home.

The funeral was planned quickly and God was definitely looking down on us and made it happen.  We had a short service and a wake after.  Everyone pulled together to share stories and cook food and it was comforting.

16 months later, I can look back and say that I am happy I honored his wishes. I know he's looking out for me and I feel and sometimes smell his presence. It's taken me some time to complete this because it was a painful memory. Every spring when it smells like dirt, I'll think of you; at every carnival, I'll get us an elephant ear; every time I smell that sawdust and oil mixture, I'll know you're there. It hasn't been easy and we sure could use you now. Keep lookin' out Dad!