For the past two years he has been 'sick'. I had sort of chalked it up to him getting older and we thought that it was possible that he'd had a mini stroke or two. Each occurrence of him getting sick seemed to be triggered by a fall, which would lead to mom calling the ambulance and then every time they'd discover he had a high fever and he'd be taken to the hospital, put on antibiotics, watched and nourished for a couple of days until they couldn't stand to listen to him saying he'd walk home if they didn't let him out and they'd send him home where he'd be pretty good until the next occurrence. Six months, three months, two weeks.
He finally stopped painting houses somewhere in there. Yes, painting houses in his 80's. Wonder where I get my work ethic? Look no further. His theory was that his bum leg was causing him to fall off his ladder and that the fall was then somehow making him sick. Not that it was possible that a sickness might be the cause and not the effect. Of course, we also know now that he knew more about his health than he was telling us and it seems like he didn't really want to know what was wrong. He just wanted to live through it as best he could without examining it in any way.
"It" was lung cancer. He'd had throat and neck cancer already. That was the summer that I was eleven years old. I remember him sitting on our AstroTurf back porch in cut off shorts crying. It's one of only a handful of times in my life that I remember seeing him cry. That was a hard time. Radiation, veteran's hospitals, surgeries, being broke as all hell and lots of road trips to Wichita. That's when the smoking in the house stopped though. And my chronic bronchitis that would have me bed ridden for weeks at a time finally started to subside. Amazing how that happens. I don't get it at all anymore.
The first cancer left him with a lot of other issues. They removed all of his teeth, part of his jaw, a large muscle that runs down your neck into your shoulder and he'd have skin irritation due to radiation and swallowing, eating and speech problems for the rest of his life. And those things contributed to his decision to ignore it this time. I think he knew that he was too old and too weak to ever live or want to live through that again and therefore, why even find out? The original cancer also contributed to his health with this situation. The throat problems were causing him to aspirate and develop pneumonia repeatedly.
Anyway. I made the trip home in July with both girls to spend time with their grandparents. I was able to be there for almost a month and it was a really good time for the girls. Gramps was doing well at that time and we didn't know anything so I came home thinking all was well. His infections and fevers came back right after we left and his doctor thought it was coming from his gall bladder. He had surgery and his doctor expected him to be back to normal, but only two weeks later with another fall/infection. We still don't know where those infections were coming from and his doctor sort of throws the cancer out there like a big umbrella. It's not and it frustrates me that they do that. He didn't die from cancer. He died either from the infection or complications of pneumonia, but we could never determine where those infections were coming from. The cancer was inhibiting his bone marrow from producing, so the cancer definitely didn't help, but not knowing where the infection was coming from didn't help either.
Again, anyway. The Monday before Thanksgiving the hospital called the 'family' to let them know they didn't think he'd make it through the day. The 'family' found it best to wait twelve hours and call me at 7pm after they figured out that he was going to make it through the day. The old bugger had been in a deep sleep all day long while they all sat in his room and then he just woke up and looked at them and said 'hi guys'. Hehehe. I think he was waiting for me. :)
So, I booked a ticket at 11pm on Monday and was headed for the max train five fast paced hours later. They were scheduled to sign his DNR and meet with hospice on Tuesday at 1p and that's the exact time my flight was supposed to arrive in Dodge. God forbid anyone say something like, could we postpone until 3pm so that his other daughter that we like to make sure to call his grand-daughter can get here just in case he kicks the bucket (that's what he called it, not just me :) the moment we take him off of oxygen and iv's? Hmmm, I thought I was over that. Guess not. My flight was delayed. I sat in Denver in tears. That's way too soft of a word. I was a freaking wreck of a mess bawling in huge puddles the whole two hours. Extremely sad at the possibility that something might happen although I didn't really think anything that abrupt would happen and probably more angry that I knew no one was waiting for me on the other end or seemed to care that something abrupt might happen and I might not be there. My best friend picked me up from the airport. Hmmm. That worked out perfect actually. My other best friend dropped me off at the airport when I left. They serve as amazing buffers between my worlds.
When I arrived at the hospital everything was well. Mom and my uncle were there signing papers in the front office when I walked in and I went up and saw gramps for a little bit. Thankfully he was doing good. But still, courtesy. That's the word! Common freakin' family courtesy. vent vent vent They were preparing to move him to the nursing home and he was sleepy, but he talked to me. I wasn't sure if he'd remember it or not. He seemed a little out of it. Over the next few days he became more and more responsive and we had some really good conversations. I got to be there with him during his evaluations and help him do some math and writing tests. I was able to be the one to do our family history intake for hospice and to help him make some decisions about clergy and priests and visitors in general. We talked about basketball and football a little bit and watched some tv together. We talked about Portland and the girls and J and about decorating his room a little. I suggested a rather large photo of myself on the wall. He suggested his Navy ship instead. lol! We chatted about him maybe trying on is old navy uniform since he'd gotten so thin it might fit him again. I fed him a few meals and some banana shakes. It was a really nice week.
He was doing really well. And I should have known that meant that the end was very near. It's sort of typical to make a big comeback before letting go. I've read my pamphlets, done my research. But I had no way to be certain if it would be days or weeks or months and I had to get back home at some point. I was back for one week almost exactly when he passed on Monday morning. It all played out pretty perfect there. Mom had been with him on Sunday and they'd had a great visit. They were laughing and cutting up. At 4:30am he asked his nurses if mom had made it home alright and at 6:30am he passed. He was in the nursing home a short enough amount of time that they didn't take the house or mom's small savings.
Did you know that's how some nursing home situations work? If a patient can't pay for the facilities, you sign your house over to them. If there is a spouse, the spouse can live in the house as long as the spouse can still make the mortgage payments and upkeep on the house themselves, but they also take any joint savings and the patient's social security. So, had he been there longer, mom would have lost the house and her savings and had to move into a retirement facility herself. But, the bill is going to be $2000 per day for 14 days. $28000 for just two weeks. That's half of the house anyway. (midwest Kansas real estate is not Portland real estate) We're pretty sure that medicare/medicaid and insurance are going to cover most of it.
So, that's the timeline. I can think linear right now. It's slow, but it works. Thought A to thought B. It's when I try to multi-task at all that it gets complicated. I start jumping thoughts and skipping important steps. I worked all day Monday, very slow, but steady. I kind of had to. Otherwise I just find myself sitting and staring. But again, I have to work A to B. Like right now... this post look me almost two hours to type and I'm sure there are other things that I'm supposed to be doing right now, but I just can't figure out what they are. Yesterday I worked in the shop and figured out as I was leaving that I forgot to turn half of the lights on and I didn't even notice it all day long. It will all come back to me, but not yet. I only cry when I talk about it out loud and thus email and posting have been a really great way for me to talk about it without falling apart. Calling my mom is a mess for both of us, but it's a good mess.
Gramps in July
