Today my mom got a most dreaded phone call that no one should receive:
"Your father is not doing well; he's gotten worse. We don't anticipate that he will survive through the night."
My Papa not only has emphysema, COPD, a ventilator, a feeding tube, and pneumonia, he is now carrying VRE.
Family members have to guard themselves against this latest illness when going in to see him.
Also, the lining around his lungs has inflated, which has caused the rest of his body to take on air, causing him to look bloated.
My mom was planning on going today to OKC to be with him, and then the weather hit, and she was not able to. She wants to go tomorrow.
It is dreadful that we all have to go through this, especially my mom and my Papa's wife, Jo.
When I was in OKC last week with mom, we had to walk away from Papa, after having to say goodbye to him, knowing with a heavy burden that we may never get to see nor talk to him again.
I have only once seen my mom so small and that was when my Nana passed away when I was 9.
I don't like the memory at all. Either of them. I think, no, I know, this time is worse since I am so much older and mature. I never want to see my mom that small again. Ever. I never want my mom to crumble up like that again.
That is what is dreadful for me. The memory of seeing my mom like that and seeing my Papa propped up and poked on in the hospital.
That is what is going to haunt me.
I can talk about my Papa. I can talk about my Nana. My mom and I can talk about them. I think that is where the joy lies-in the good memories and the love that we give them through talking about them.
I also think that the joy lies in knowing that Papa is not going to have to go through the hospital stays any more, and that we are not going to have to see it...I'm glad that we'll be able to talk about it.
I guess that's a joyful thing.
I feel selfish because I'm writing this post about the people who are not "suffering" instead of writing it all about my Papa, who is suffering.
But we are all suffering in mental health.
I think that I am ready and starting to be at peace with several exits.
I am ready to deal with my Papa's passing. I am ready to be there for my mom and Jo in my Papa's passing. I am ready to be joyful that he is not suffering anymore. I am ready to be joyful that we don't have to see him suffering anymore.
The aftermath will be hard, yes, but at least I know that I will not dread thinking about the good stuff. And hopefully the good memories will slowly erase some scar tissue.
Please be with my family and I, if in at least you send us kind thoughts.
Please be with my mom as she will undoubtedly travel tomorrow.
“Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for you are with me; your rod and your staff, they comfort me.” Psalm 23:4
"Your father is not doing well; he's gotten worse. We don't anticipate that he will survive through the night."
My Papa not only has emphysema, COPD, a ventilator, a feeding tube, and pneumonia, he is now carrying VRE.
Family members have to guard themselves against this latest illness when going in to see him.
Also, the lining around his lungs has inflated, which has caused the rest of his body to take on air, causing him to look bloated.
My mom was planning on going today to OKC to be with him, and then the weather hit, and she was not able to. She wants to go tomorrow.
It is dreadful that we all have to go through this, especially my mom and my Papa's wife, Jo.
When I was in OKC last week with mom, we had to walk away from Papa, after having to say goodbye to him, knowing with a heavy burden that we may never get to see nor talk to him again.
I have only once seen my mom so small and that was when my Nana passed away when I was 9.
I don't like the memory at all. Either of them. I think, no, I know, this time is worse since I am so much older and mature. I never want to see my mom that small again. Ever. I never want my mom to crumble up like that again.
That is what is dreadful for me. The memory of seeing my mom like that and seeing my Papa propped up and poked on in the hospital.
That is what is going to haunt me.
I can talk about my Papa. I can talk about my Nana. My mom and I can talk about them. I think that is where the joy lies-in the good memories and the love that we give them through talking about them.
I also think that the joy lies in knowing that Papa is not going to have to go through the hospital stays any more, and that we are not going to have to see it...I'm glad that we'll be able to talk about it.
I guess that's a joyful thing.
I feel selfish because I'm writing this post about the people who are not "suffering" instead of writing it all about my Papa, who is suffering.
But we are all suffering in mental health.
I think that I am ready and starting to be at peace with several exits.
I am ready to deal with my Papa's passing. I am ready to be there for my mom and Jo in my Papa's passing. I am ready to be joyful that he is not suffering anymore. I am ready to be joyful that we don't have to see him suffering anymore.
The aftermath will be hard, yes, but at least I know that I will not dread thinking about the good stuff. And hopefully the good memories will slowly erase some scar tissue.
Please be with my family and I, if in at least you send us kind thoughts.
Please be with my mom as she will undoubtedly travel tomorrow.
“Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for you are with me; your rod and your staff, they comfort me.” Psalm 23:4
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