The Fourth of July will never, ever be the same for me. It never will be. We will never look back on this day as just Independence Day anymore. This is the day that we lost my father to cancer.
As you get older, you begin to realize that there will come a time when the people you love will inevitably pass away. It's a fact of life that at some point in the future, we will all pass on. But, no matter how much you prepare yourselves for it, the reality of it strikes you with the full force of an out of control train. You're never every fully ready.
I have talked about my father many times on this forum. A good man, a wise man, a sarcastic man. One who was loyal to friends and family and one I never heard a disparaging word about in my travels. The rock and foundation of our family. If you looked up dependable in the dictionary, his picture would be right there.
For the last year of his life, he had struggled with cancer. They had diagnosed him in 2014 with esophageal cancer. He went through radiation and chemo treatments to fight it back. Eventually, he had surgery to remove part of his esophagus to get the remaining tumor out. The surgery, as we could tell, was successful. And, by the end of the year, he was adapting and getting better. Life was on the upturn, and my parents had moved into a new house (as my Dad would say, a place for my mom if things went awry).
We enjoyed Christmas at the new house. This past March, we were told that they had found some spots on his lungs. Another round of chemo and radiation after Easter was planned. He was discouraged, as anyone would be. But, he went through it again even though it made him weaker. However, once the lung situation was resolved - a new more painful tumor was diagnosed in his jaw. It was painful, made it hard to eat, and it was difficult to understand him. The plan was to remove part of the jaw and reconstruct it with bone and skin. Those plans, however, went on indefinite hiatus.
June 17, 2015 - my parents got probably the harshest news they could have gotten. Cancer had spread to his spine and adrenal glands. They were crushed to put it mildly. The rest of June saw my Dad have his good and bad days. Most of the time, the meds he was on would make him sleep all day. He was losing a lot of weight and had fallen a couple of times because he was getting so weak.
If you know my father at all that would be terribly frustrating. He wouldn't want you to help him when he fell. And, being unable to communicate clearly had to make it even worse. Not being able to do the things you wanted to do or being understood or the intense pain are all things I hope no one would ever have to experience. But, that was Dad's situation.
There were other things that we dealt with in that time. I got to visit him a few times. Prayed over him, told him I loved him, and got to spend a few moments to talk.
On July 3rd, Dad seemed well enough that Susan and I took a trip to Columbus, only an hour and a half away. Mom and my sister were going to the funeral home to make arrangements (to get it out of the way) and my nephews were there to stay with my dad in case problems occurred.
Susan and I got the text at 5 pm saying that my father had fallen while my nephews were there. He was disoriented, a nurse was coming, and the plan was to take him to a hospice care facility. We rushed to my parents and were there when he was taken to the facility. Once there, he seemed calmer and the meds had kicked in. We were comfortable that he was somewhere safer, as his care was becoming more and more difficult at home. The plan for Saturday was for my sister to drop off my mom at the hospice care facility and for me to pick her up when she was ready to go that evening. That was the plan as his family (brother, sister, and mother along with us) would visit that Saturday. Plans would quickly change.
You always think, even in the face of mortality, that you still have all the time in the world. My plan that Saturday was to relax, hang out with my wife, and pick my mom up when she was ready to go. I decided, around 2 pm, that I should keep my mom company so that my parents weren't there alone. A wise decision as it would turn out.
Dad was a little restless, but that was to be expected with the pain he was in. He seemed lucid, if not easy to understand. At one point telling me not to laugh when I smiled at him. As the evening progressed, he began to become very restless, wanting out of his bed. My mom would tell him to get rest. My theory was with all the visitors that he might be overstimulated. We had the lights turned down and I left the room, so that he could just focus on my mom and perhaps fall asleep.
As I was outside the room, I heard my mom shout to him to settle down. When I went in, he was again trying to get out of his bed. I got his attention and he looked at me, and said "please". That word hit me with the effect of a 2X4. Still don't know what he meant or if I will ever truly know. What did he need? I don't know if I could give that to him.
The nurse told my mother that, based on her diagnosis, it appeared he had 24 to 48 hours to go. We made calls to family to rush back. However, my father wasn't going to wait. If you knew him, he always wanted to take care of anything right away. No waiting for him. Time was slipping away from us.
My mother and I prayed. The only thing I knew how to do in that moment. I told him that it was OK to go. That God blessed us with him as father and husband. I prayed hard to Jesus to break through and grab hold of my dad. Its all that could be done, its all I could do. After ten minutes, my father breathed his last. A very intense and surreal moment that I will never get out of my head. Even now, I do not believe what I saw. I keep thinking that was a dream.
After a few moments, I stepped out and called my friend to tell him the news. I was broken down and crying and all I could say was "I couldn't save him".
As you get older, you begin to realize that there will come a time when the people you love will inevitably pass away. It's a fact of life that at some point in the future, we will all pass on. But, no matter how much you prepare yourselves for it, the reality of it strikes you with the full force of an out of control train. You're never every fully ready.
I have talked about my father many times on this forum. A good man, a wise man, a sarcastic man. One who was loyal to friends and family and one I never heard a disparaging word about in my travels. The rock and foundation of our family. If you looked up dependable in the dictionary, his picture would be right there.
For the last year of his life, he had struggled with cancer. They had diagnosed him in 2014 with esophageal cancer. He went through radiation and chemo treatments to fight it back. Eventually, he had surgery to remove part of his esophagus to get the remaining tumor out. The surgery, as we could tell, was successful. And, by the end of the year, he was adapting and getting better. Life was on the upturn, and my parents had moved into a new house (as my Dad would say, a place for my mom if things went awry).
We enjoyed Christmas at the new house. This past March, we were told that they had found some spots on his lungs. Another round of chemo and radiation after Easter was planned. He was discouraged, as anyone would be. But, he went through it again even though it made him weaker. However, once the lung situation was resolved - a new more painful tumor was diagnosed in his jaw. It was painful, made it hard to eat, and it was difficult to understand him. The plan was to remove part of the jaw and reconstruct it with bone and skin. Those plans, however, went on indefinite hiatus.
June 17, 2015 - my parents got probably the harshest news they could have gotten. Cancer had spread to his spine and adrenal glands. They were crushed to put it mildly. The rest of June saw my Dad have his good and bad days. Most of the time, the meds he was on would make him sleep all day. He was losing a lot of weight and had fallen a couple of times because he was getting so weak.
If you know my father at all that would be terribly frustrating. He wouldn't want you to help him when he fell. And, being unable to communicate clearly had to make it even worse. Not being able to do the things you wanted to do or being understood or the intense pain are all things I hope no one would ever have to experience. But, that was Dad's situation.
There were other things that we dealt with in that time. I got to visit him a few times. Prayed over him, told him I loved him, and got to spend a few moments to talk.
On July 3rd, Dad seemed well enough that Susan and I took a trip to Columbus, only an hour and a half away. Mom and my sister were going to the funeral home to make arrangements (to get it out of the way) and my nephews were there to stay with my dad in case problems occurred.
Susan and I got the text at 5 pm saying that my father had fallen while my nephews were there. He was disoriented, a nurse was coming, and the plan was to take him to a hospice care facility. We rushed to my parents and were there when he was taken to the facility. Once there, he seemed calmer and the meds had kicked in. We were comfortable that he was somewhere safer, as his care was becoming more and more difficult at home. The plan for Saturday was for my sister to drop off my mom at the hospice care facility and for me to pick her up when she was ready to go that evening. That was the plan as his family (brother, sister, and mother along with us) would visit that Saturday. Plans would quickly change.
You always think, even in the face of mortality, that you still have all the time in the world. My plan that Saturday was to relax, hang out with my wife, and pick my mom up when she was ready to go. I decided, around 2 pm, that I should keep my mom company so that my parents weren't there alone. A wise decision as it would turn out.
Dad was a little restless, but that was to be expected with the pain he was in. He seemed lucid, if not easy to understand. At one point telling me not to laugh when I smiled at him. As the evening progressed, he began to become very restless, wanting out of his bed. My mom would tell him to get rest. My theory was with all the visitors that he might be overstimulated. We had the lights turned down and I left the room, so that he could just focus on my mom and perhaps fall asleep.
As I was outside the room, I heard my mom shout to him to settle down. When I went in, he was again trying to get out of his bed. I got his attention and he looked at me, and said "please". That word hit me with the effect of a 2X4. Still don't know what he meant or if I will ever truly know. What did he need? I don't know if I could give that to him.
The nurse told my mother that, based on her diagnosis, it appeared he had 24 to 48 hours to go. We made calls to family to rush back. However, my father wasn't going to wait. If you knew him, he always wanted to take care of anything right away. No waiting for him. Time was slipping away from us.
My mother and I prayed. The only thing I knew how to do in that moment. I told him that it was OK to go. That God blessed us with him as father and husband. I prayed hard to Jesus to break through and grab hold of my dad. Its all that could be done, its all I could do. After ten minutes, my father breathed his last. A very intense and surreal moment that I will never get out of my head. Even now, I do not believe what I saw. I keep thinking that was a dream.
After a few moments, I stepped out and called my friend to tell him the news. I was broken down and crying and all I could say was "I couldn't save him".
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