Happy Birthday Dad

So much has happened since I last posted on my blog.  Frankly, I had forgotten about my blog as there has been too many other things to do or worry about.  In a recent post, there was a photo of my dad and Evelyn in the hospital.  It was fifteen days later that my dad passed away, on January 4, 2012.  It was a privilege to be with my dad at his passing.  To be there the moment his Spirit left his body and passed on to the other side of the veil.  The experience was very real and I could feel him leave his body behind.


Yesterday, February 6th would have been dad's 88th birthday!  He almost made it; just shy of a couple of weeks.  His stay in the hospital was a long and uncomfortable one.  On Dec. 19th, my sister was called to go check on dad when he wasn't answering the phone and when she got to his home, she found him laying in the middle of the hallway by the front door.  After the fact, the doctors feel that he had a heart arrhythmia that caused him short of oxygen and therefore, fell.  Dad had an episode in August that was determined an arrhythmia.


When dad fell, he hit his head and caused a small bleed at the base of his neck.  Initially, dad was checked into the neuro-step-down ICU.  It is here that were were able to get Evelyn in for dad to see her.  This was the first and only time he meet Evelyn, so I quickly took a photo.
The next couple of days, we thought things were looking up when dad crashed, another episode of arrhythmia, and they were able to revive him.


Dad was then admitted to the neuro-ICU.  The doctors were still concerned about the brain bleed, so he went to neuro instead of cardio.  Here is where dad stayed for about 5 days.  Dad was having difficulty breathing so they put him on an oxygen mask with high flow pressure that was strapped around his head.  Dad was so frustrated with the mask.  Since it was pushing the oxygen in to him, it was difficult for him to speak.  He tried to tell us things, but we could not always understand.  I could tell that dad was getting tired of the whole hospital stay.  He wanted to go home so badly.  His  position in bed was changed every 2 hours, and when on his side, he was afraid he was falling.  There was no actual awareness of his position, and got frustrated, again, by his having to lay in bed.


While in the neruo-ICU, I saw signs that he was probably getting pneumonia, as I remembered when my grandmother was in her last days in the hospital, with similar symptoms.  I understood that pneumonia was often a possibility when a patient got to the point dad was at.  I asked about it, but was told no, he didn't have it.  However, with the suction of "stuff" they were doing, I did not believe them.  After a few days, dad did gain the ability to not need the oxygen, and was feeling a bit positive.  Dad was then moved back to the neruo-step down ICU.  We were positive about this move.


During my visit on that Wed. evening, we were able to do quite a bit of talking.  I got dad to smile and a few small laughs.  It was such a good visit and I was hesitant to leave him.  They let me stay another half hour past the visiting hours, for which I was grateful.  During this time, dad and I talked about family, and how proud he was of his grandchildren and great-grandchildren.  I loved sitting there at his bedside, holding his hand, and intently talking about how much I loved him and I was going to be okay.  Dad was worried about the fact that Scott had moved out and was concerned that I will be taken care of in the proper way.  I said I had great support of family and friends and he should not worry about me.  That's the way dad was, always looking out for someone else, before looking out for him.


I appreciate that visit, and will forever remember that night, for it was the last time that I was able to talk to dad.  As I left his room that night, I turned and said, "I love you dad!", then I could hear him loud and clear say, "I love you too dear!"  It was two days later that he was put on a respirator and moved to the cardio-ICU.  I was scared, but also at peace, knowing that he would probably not make it out of the hospital now.  I was afraid to think about having dad pass, however, I was at peace as to where he was going.  The next few days, I visited every day and just wanted to be there with him.  Dad was a bit sedated because of the respirator, and we weren't getting any kind of response from him.


On that next Monday, Jan. 2, Shannon, my niece, and I, were visiting at the same time.  When Shannon and I started to talk about some of the things that dad had said during his time in the hospital, we mentioned how dad said at time that there were other people in the room.  At one time, he could see his sister Josie in another room and wanted to get to her.  He told Shannon once that there were three women standing in his room with vales over their faces.  As we spoke of this, there was a sudden and positive response from dad.  He could hear us, and it surprised us that he responded so.  As we talked about things that we knew dad was worried about, he continued to respond as though he was trying to tell us something.  Dad could not open his eyes to look at us, but made movements with his eyebrows in ways that were an answer to us.  He started to try and move his arms, but did not have the strength.  Dad was still responding the next day as well.


On that next day, which was Tuesday, I was with dad alone in his room.  As I spoke to him, I could see his expressions in his eyebrow responses.  Still unable to open his eyes, I spoke again about how much I love him, that I could see he was probably experiencing his last bit of life here on earth.  I talked about my testimony of the gospel, and tried to encourage him that there was nothing to be afraid of in passing.  Knowing that he had concerns, I assured him that Linda and I would take care of each other, that Linda and I would take care of his sister Winnie, and I told him that I would be okay to go through this separation with Scott and not to worry.  As I spoke of mine and Scott's situation, tears were forming in the corners of his eyes and ran down his cheek.  His forehead squished together and wrinkled into an unhappy look.  I told dad not to cry, and his forehead relaxed.  I wiped his tears and gave him a kiss on the cheek.


I would like to post about the actual day that dad passed, but will do so on another post.  This has been very therapeutic to write this down.  It reassures me that what I know about the gospel and plan of salvation are true.  I know that Heavenly Father knows each and every one of us and loves us so much.


Happy birthday dad!