Tuesday, December 04, 2007

“Prepare for the Worst”

That's what the doctor told my mother today. "Prepare for the worst." What if I don't want to prepare for the worst.

It's not good. It's really not good. All the hope of the past few days is fading. His diaphragm is totally paralysed, not just the one side anymore. The flu isn't lessening at all. His heart, even with the pacemaker, is starting to weaken.

My mother came home in the worst way she's been yet. She's losing hope and it's killing her. I took my second shower of the day so I could go somewhere and get hysterical without her having to see it. She called the funeral home she'll be using, 'nuff said on that.

It's not over yet, they're going to give it a few more days and then trach him to see if that helps. There's also the move to Vassar Hospital so it's not over yet but it's not looking good.

She just told me a little while ago that he told her this was going to be his last Thanksgiving. He felt himself weakening.

I can't even write this shit. Makes it real. He's dying, Heatherlyn. Face it. No, I don't want to. Go away.

I can't even begin to think what this is going to do to my mother. My parental situation has always been somewhat abnormal. My mother's whole life is my dad, has been for 47 years. Everything she did, does and planned was all about Chuckie. She's been better than the best nurse in taking care of him since he went on oxygen and I'm terrified what this is going to do to her. They were as in love after 47 years as the day they got married and it's going to kill her.

I'm worried about myself, too. Every day since they moved up here I would call him while she was at work and we would talk sometimes for hours. Sometimes we'd watch the news channels on the phone and talk about it, he and I have very different ideas on politics. He gave me my love of reading, my warped sense of humour and he's been there to answer any question I had for him, big or small. He's always been the smartest man I've known and my hero. I am him, from my love of all things lime to old trains.

Being in this house kills me. His favourite pair of pajama pants are hanging on his door. His favourite tattered old green cashmere sweater is on the dining room table. The things I've given him for Christmas are everywhere. The brass lamp I just got him for his birthday November 4th. He's everywhere in this house but he's not here and he may never be here again. The Christmas presents meant for this year sitting on the bed in the guest room. The lifesize cardboard Sarah Michelle Gellar we got him.

I'm not sure how I'm going to deal with this. It's already changed me. I've never had to deal with anything like this, I've had a pretty easy life for the most part. I've never imagined life without him. Maybe I should have but I couldn't and now it's all in front of me and it sucks.

I want to shut the world off. Everywhere is Christmas and it only makes it worse. I don't want to talk to people besides Darkstar and Fay. I don't want to depress anyone during their holiday season and I can't handle their lives going on as normal so I just want to do ....... I don't know. I don't know what I want to do or what I want to feel.

I remember a dream he had that he told me about a year ago. We had an Akita named Hatchi when I was in my 20's, he was an evil beast that bit both Darkstar and myself. He was my dad's dog, all the way. My dad dreamed that he died and went to where the animals wait to be reunited with their owners. He said when he got there the angel in charge told him to please take Hatchi as he was biting all the other pets and angels. He thought it was funny, it disturbed me. Now I can't get it out of my head.

He used to sing me to sleep as a child with "Daddy's Little Girl" and the damn song is haunting me.

He used to read to me. After dinner we would all go into the living room and he would read to me while my mother hooked a rug or just listened. The Laura Ingalls Wilder books, Anne of Green Gables, Babar, Curious George, Clifford the Big Red Dog.

I'm supposed to wake up here and go join him in his den like I have been for 10 years. Instead I wake up to nothing.

I know one thing. I know I can't deal with this much sad.

So tell me. Is this 'preparing for the worst?'

1. (((HUGS)))

   Sending prayers your way.

   Andrea  on  12/04  at  09:46 PM

2. Preparing for the worst.... Remembering the good times when things are bad, cherishing the time you have, thankful for the time you’ve shared.

    on  12/04  at  10:31 PM

3. You breathe in, you breathe out, and you hope. That’s the only way you can deal with it, even when what will likely happen is staring at you in vivid technicolor. I’m sorry you’re going through this; I know it sucks hard and it hurts like a mother… It never feels fair, not in the least.

   Thumper  on  12/05  at  12:23 AM

4. *huge hugs*

   Email if you need.

   Bobby  on  12/05  at  12:53 AM

5. Oh Kittyn… I feel for you. I won’t claim to know what you are going through, but your pain is evident and that makes me so sad.

   I will be sending comforting thoughts to you and keep you and your family in my prayers. I hope that in some small way that helps. Remember to lean on those around you during times like these, including your cats - they help in their own special, purring way.

   I wish I could do or say more to help heal your pain. If you think of anything I can do from across the country, please don’t hesitate to contact me. You have my info.

   Binary Blonde  on  12/05  at  07:06 PM

6. Heather, I know there’s nothing that can be said that would really be supportive from so far away. I know your pain, after loosing my own father 11 years ago. I can only offer you some truths, there is no way to “prepare” really. Yes there are preperations to be made and you’ll do that with your mom.  The only thing you can do is survive, go on, for him.

   I’d only met your father a few times, but from those meetings and from knowing you for so many years, I know your father lived for you and your mom, and you both lived for him.  And now if or when the worst happens, you’ll continue to do so. But you’ll also live for each other. You’ll need to be each other’s safety net, and that’s not easy. You’ll be strong, but there will be moments of weakness and sadness.

   I’m not a religious or spiritual man, but my thoughts are with you and your family. The only real words of encouragement that I can give is that while this is painful, the pain lessens.
   My father is gone 11 years, but every now and then… well the pain lessens.

   Concentrate on what’s important now, your dad and your mom, and especially yourself.
   Other people and situations will have to work on their own solutions until you’re ready to take on some of that again.

   It’s been years since we’ve met face to face, but right now I wish I could give you a big hug and let you know, you will survive.  Our loved ones never leave us totally, we carry their wisdom forever and their love.

   Joe

    on  12/06  at  11:12 AM

7. Oh, honey, Joe’s right, there is really nothing you can do to prepare. You certainly can’t prepare your heart. What you CAN do is love - love him, love your mother, love yourself. Because from what I’ve read about your dad he wouldn’t have it any other way. He wouldn’t want to you to be lost, he’d want to you to take care of your mom and yourself. I am so so sorry you are going through this.

   Peace and strength be with you.

   FishyGirl  on  12/06  at  11:51 AM

8. What Thumper said is pretty much what I would have said as well.

   (hugs)

   YummY!  on  12/06  at  05:25 PM
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