Posts Tagged ‘Dad’
Only Tony himself, my (estranged) husband and maybe one or two other ppl who ‘know’ me would appreciate that title.
Considering the current state of things…
So I spent the entire weekend at Tony’s, because obviously, we don’t want him to be alone. He is being taken care of by a wonderful set of nurses and hospice, but the majority of his time is being in the company of his sister (he is still living at his own home, the nurses only come a few times a week), although there are other wonderful family members and one or 2 friends who take a turn hangin’ out with Lord Anthony.
He is in bed full time now. He does get up to use the bathroom and wander (with his wheeled walker) into the kitchen to grab a quick snack, but I’m afraid even those brief trips are going to end very soon. He’s done remarkably well, considering. 4 years ago when they told him he was terminal, they gave him 6 months to 2 years, and when he took this latest down turn in approx September and was told he was officially in End Stage Liver Failure, they gave him 2 weeks to 2 months. He himself didn’t expect to make it to Xmas; I told him at least the New Year, then he decided he wanted to see the New Year, and so he has. I think he’s simply worn out at this point though. He’s just tired. He used to be several inches taller than me, now he’s a couple of inches shorter than me.
He had a good weekend, blessedly. He’d had a few bad days before that, which is how he seems to go, a few bad days, a few good days, but each cycle takes a little more out of him.
We had a good weekend, pizza (although he kept trying to fall asleep in his) movies, ghost hunting and crime TV shows, talking and laughing, getting up at 5am, drinking a pot of coffee & eating pancakes then going back to bed til one, lol. Oh, and trying to find the perfect virtual fireplace screensaver, and a free one at that. No, we didn’t find one. I tried out a few then uninstalled them after annoying pop up ads kept obscuring the crackling fires… I think maybe we were too picky about our fireplace too… oh well, we spent a couple of hours enjoying each others company over that so it was worth it. Toby went with me the first night; he’s gone loopy in the head these days, he kept growling at every strange noise and faint bump or child’s screech from the other apartments, and with Tony trying to sleep a good portion of the day, that’s not too productive, especially when Toby’s laying on Tony’s bed and growling, at least when he’s next to me I can put a pillow over him… and press down, ever so slightly… I’m just kidding. I love my neurotic Toblerone. The first night, Toby continued his freaking out, especially when the neighbors finally went to bed (Tony’s hospital bed is in the living room, so I sleep in his room) and we could hear ‘romantic’ noises coming from behind the wall, good lord, I don’t know what that guy takes, but Toby was wigging out half the night. After a few hours of sleep, whoever next door, falls or something (this is how we woke up) and it sounded like someone fell down a flight of stairs, long, loud, drawn out falling & bumping & banging & crashing & thumping… Tony’s jumping out of his skin, and after all that racket, I hear from the other side of the wall a male voice, very bored sounding, say ‘ow’.
Toby stayed with C* over here the next night. And would you believe, Tony & I spent that whole next day wondering why Toby was being so quiet…? Tony even asked me at one point if I had to take Toby out to potty because I hadn’t taken him out in a while, he threw me off for a minute and I was wandering around looking for the dang dog!
Anywho, now I have a Blight kitty laying on my mouse pad, her butt keeps bumping the mouse, and despite all the goofing off & sitting around watching movies with Tony I did, I’m worn out so I’m actually going to bed before 4am tonight.
I just had to share a little. It makes me feel better. I don’t write alot or include a lot of detail because it’s just too raw and difficult right now.
I still think it’s better to be able to say goodbye and spend some time together. I couldn’t do that with my Dad. There was a lot (A LOT) that I wish could have been dealt with but never will be, and so, I must deal with not being able to deal.
Why is it always a ‘Dad issue’? Thank you, Austin Powers.
Goodnight, Tony.
Originally written/posted;
Saturday, July 26, 2008
Now, don’t get me wrong, my Dad wasn’t an ‘evil’ cat hater. He and my Mother owned a big Male Siamese mix ‘Brandy’ when I was little. He passed away from distemper and my Mother said she thinks Dad was very hurt by Brandy’s passing and hardened himself to cats. We had only dogs after that, until I had to move back home after a separation in ‘98. I brought with me my then 6 year old Daughter and ‘her’ one year old cat, Flower. My Daughter named her because she said she was ‘as soft and beautiful as a flower’, not after the Disney/Bambi skunk.
I had owned Flower’s parents (they went to live w/ my In-laws, who already had cats as my Dad put his foot down about me bringing all the cats to his home, he only allowed Flower to come along because she was my Daughter’s (C*) cat and he ADORED her (even up until his death when C* was almost 15, he referred to her as ‘The Baby’!) so of course SHE could keep her beloved kitty with her!
Dad tolerated Flower. She’s a very good cat, but of course, a cat. He swore about having to replace a couple of screens she’d plucked, he swore at her for sleeping in the towel cabinet, he swore when she’d be meandering underfoot always in his path. And he behaved as if an electric eel landed in his lap if she dared to jump in his.
We lived there 3 years. Slowly, he began to warm to her. He gave her a nickname, ‘Yo-yo cat’ and was amused when she’d go on her cat freak-outs, running all over and launching off furniture. The first time she did it, he was convinced she’s gone rabid or something, I explained, no, cat’s just get a wild hair every now & then tearing around like they’re being chased by invisible clowns, it’s normal. He wasn’t convinced.
By the time we left my Parent’s home, I would catch him talking to her, smiling at her and even, daring to touch her! He even began including her in his tidbit handout sessions in which he would pull off little bits of whatever meat he was eating (he always ate dinner in the living room, on his TV tray) and hand out tidbits to his dogs, my two dogs, and Flower.
Fast forward to Mother’s Day, 2007.
My Dad had a massive brain stem stroke and was in the hospital in a coma.
My Parent’s now lived in Cortez, Colorado and I’m in Northern Utah still, so I got a cat sitter (I had 2 at the time, now I have 3, thanks a lot, C*) and away we went.
We spent 4 days talking to my Dad about everything we could think of, including reminding him of familiar stuff like the Grandkids’ names, the Great Grandbabies names, his dogs and my cats, etc. I’d tell him funny stories about them. And I told him Yo-yo cat would come sit on him and ‘drop’ her fur balls all over (she doesn’t shed, she drops fur balls!) if he didn’t get well.
He passed away on May 30th, 2007. 3 days later I had to come back to Utah again. Because of circumstances, we weren’t going to have his Funeral until June 8th.
June 3rd, I’m here in Utah and I wake up to Flower consuming yet again, another plastic bag! I have no clue what’s up with this silly cat, but her whole life she’s had a thing with chewing on plastic, esp shopping bags and even Styrofoam! So here she was again, chowing down on a blue bag that goes over newspapers delivered in bad weather, now that I think about it, these bags are thicker than just grocery bag types. I chased her away from it and threw it out, as I looked at it, I noticed she’d gotten quite a bit off…but she’d been ‘chewing plastic’ for 10 years and I never gave it a second thought.
The next morning, it was obvious Flower was ill.
She went downhill from there. Not eating, not drinking, and vomiting little bits of the blue plastic bag up. We gave her water thru a children’s medicine dropper and hoped she’d vomit up all of the plastic over time, as that’s what her Veterinarian and I were certain the problem was.
The Vet had told us there really wasn’t much he could do…
The next day she was worse. She laid in the bathroom barley breathing or moving. By that night, we knew she was going to die. She looked so scraggly and matted, her eyes blank, her breathing shallow, and she had the unmistakable smell of death. I called my oldest Daughter to come over and say her goodbyes, because in the Morning, we would have no choice but to take her in and have her put to sleep, we couldn’t let her suffer any longer and the next Morning we would be leaving to my Dad’s Funeral. It was almost too much to handle. We all took turns sitting and laying in the bathroom next to her. We kept the lights out; she was visibly uncomfortable with them on. We kept giving her the water, tempting her with bits of steak & chicken…talking to her, singing to her, gently stroking her. Even my Grandchildren knew something was wrong. They were so quiet while over here, and would crawl into the bathroom on hands & knees, then lie on their bellies, slide up to her and talk so softly and sweetly to her.
The death smell almost became overwhelming. The night was long, sleepless, tear filled and horrible. I fell asleep 3 feet from Flower, I laid down in the hallway, facing her still in the bathroom. This was around 4am.
As I fell asleep, I was thinking of so much, her, my Dad, my Mom… and I was sad we’d be losing 2 loved one’s at once. It wasn’t right, for C* to lose her Granddad and her cat in the same week. Then I thought to myself, and maybe it was even a prayer, even though I don’t pray anymore; ‘Dad, please take care of Yo-yo cat when she joins you on the other side, so we know she’s okay, and you’ll have some company too.’
I fell asleep imagining my Dad finally sitting and accepting Flower on his lap and petting her.
Now, remember, my Dad just adores C*. I KNOW he would do anything for her. I have 2 daughters and my parents love them both, but it’s just how it happened that my oldest, is very close to her Paternal side and since I was so young when I had her, they had a big hand in helping me raise her, she spent probably more than half of her time with them, until going to live with them permanently at 7. I spent almost my entire pregnancy with C* and after she was born, living with my parents, so they were very involved with C*’s childhood and had much more of a chance to bond with her in a way they unfortunately hadn’t with S*.
Bottom line; My Father would do ANYTHING for C*.
And he did.
I remember dreaming about him. Nothing unusual about that considering the circumstances (I didn’t remember him saying anything until I had gotten to Cortez and was relating the story to my Mom).
When I woke up in the hallway, I was sure Flower would be gone. If not, I would begin waking everyone up and we’d drive to the vet and sitting with Flower on our laps as she left us. Then we would come home and pack the car. I had even arranged for Flowers burial, on the quarter acre between my Husband’s (we were separated again, but stayed friends) Parent’s and Sister’s homes, where countless pets over 3 decades have been laid to rest, including Flower’s Father (Abra) and just recently, Mother (Poof). That would be the last thing we did before leaving to my dad’s funeral.
I opened my eyes and looked into the bathroom.
The towel where Flower had been laying was empty! My first thought was ’she’s died and her entire body’s been taken up!’ I don’t know why I thought this, its hysterical now, like she was some kind of Saint that was drawn up to Heaven in a chorus of Angels. Second thought was that she’d obviously, crawled off to an even darker, more private place for her final moments. I began getting myself up off the floor to search her body out before I woke the girls up and maybe wrap her in a soft blankie. Then I heard a crunch-crunch noise. Blight, my other cat, was eating in the kitchen. I wondered what she thought. If she understood. As I was walking into the kitchen to greet my Blight, I was met by a surreal image…it wasn’t Blight, it was Flower! I shrieked! She had eaten the chicken and tuna we’d been trying to tempt her with and had now leaped up on the cats little food table and was chowing down on dry food! She looked fabulous! No matted, scrawny coat, no deathly smell, no pale gum’s, no foam around her nose and mouth!!! At my shriek, everyone came running and gasped in disbelief and relief! Flower simply swallowed, turned to us and meowed! From that moment on, it was as if nothing had ever been wrong with her!
I don’t know why, but out of my mouth came the words ”Thank You, Dad!” C* looked at me and said ”That’s exactly what I was thinking! Granddad doesn’t want my ‘big, poofy old cat’ with him yet!”
As for what I remember him saying after I’d gotten back to Cortez, it was something like ‘I told you that cat was a Yo-yo, eating plastic!’ in a teasing tone. But I KNEW it meant he was going to make sure she was alright.
She’ll be 12 in April, very full of life, still having her freak-out attacks, still trying to chew on plastic…she’s almost a full time job, but she’s worth it.
~L
Originally written/posted;
Friday, June 01, 2007
My Father passed away May 30th at 8:26 am Wednesday Morning, in Cortez, Colorado (Four Corners region). I’ve just gotten back into Utah (it’s only a 6 1/2 hour drive, one way) and I’ll be headed back out again next Wednesday or for his service on Friday in Cortez. I didn’t want to leave my Mom but have things to take care of here, again, of course, and she has members of Dad’s family close by, plus her Sister (the only sibling she has) will be flying over from England soon.
Dad is no longer in pain, and has no more worries. As for the rest of us, we go on.
Now if my wonderful little Probe will hold out for me a while longer! That poor little car, she needs a bath something awful, and the usual routine maint. Not to mention a good, thorough radiator flush! And I’ve learned my lesson about procrastinating (and being thrifty) not getting the A/C charged! That’s 1st on my list B4 I hit the highway next week!
Thanx for everyone’s kind words and thoughts & prayers, no matter what we all believe, the intent is all that matters, and all prayers are heard. So thank you.
Originally written/posted;
Thursday, May 24th 2007
Just checking in to let some of you know what’s up since I haven’t been replying to messages or comments for a while, or even been online much at all. I had been taking a little vacation from here (*my old blog on another site) for a few weeks, nothing serious, just needed to sort some stuff out in my head & catch up on the outside world a bit. Then on Mother’s Day I called my Mother and got no answer. Unusual for my parents; yes, they are homebodies and border on anti-social, still they could have been off fishing or been forced to show up at some family thing.
My parent’s lived out here almost my whole life, my dad was Air Force and we were stationed here still when he retired, so we just ended up staying here.
He is from Colorado, the Four Corners/Durango area, and finally three years ago, having both retired, moved on down (or up) to Cortez.
The next day, again, no answer, so I started hunting down my aunts phone numbers, and since I had moved last year, and also wiped my hard drive I couldn’t find any of their numbers, so I called information, got only one number (how dare my relatives have unlisted numbers!) and of course it was for the one Aunt I knew would probably be out and about, so when I got their answering machine, I left a message that I was getting paranoid and tell my mom to call me…
My daughter always trusts her instincts more than I do, I over analyze and try to eliminate everything else before I act on mine, she persisted I needed to get a hold of someone, so I started calling the hospitals and finally the Cortez police. The officer said he got requests to drop by and check on people all the time, no problem, and he’d get back to me soon. 20 minutes later he calls me from the hospital (I’d called the wrong one) and put my mom on the phone, my dad (who is 71) had a brainstem stroke on Mother’s Day and was in a coma. He’d had a series of smaller strokes in the days leading up to this one, but they weren’t aware they were strokes, he had been tired and weak and even fell down a few times so he’d been in for tests at the end of that week and were going for the results Monday. He had gone to bed Sunday afternoon, feeling tired, and around 3 my mom had tried to wake him up and he was unresponsive, so she called the ambulance. Mom had only just called my Aunts a few hours before I managed to get a hold of her. She was of course, in shock and all, I’m sure. They’ve been married 48 years and together for 50 years. They met when my dad was stationed in England, they dated for the two years he was there, got married in mom’s hometown in the 600 year old church she was baptized in, etc. etc. and she’s been here ever since.
She later said she couldn’t bring herself to call anyone right off because then she would have to admit to herself this was really happening.
Me and my youngest spent half the day scrambling to pull our stuff together, throw it in the car, do a car guts check so it would actually make it to Cortez and back, arrange for a house/cat & fish sitter, (who happened to be my most wonderful friend, Tony) grab our travelin’ supplies and finally hit the road which wasn’t until just after 8pm.
My oldest daughter, her Fiancé and my oldest granddaughter decided to follow us out, but ended up leaving a couple of hours after I did. She’s expecting grand baby #3, and has been having some complications off & on, so we weren’t comfortable with her traveling and under the emotional circumstances… but she’s like me, she’d pick up her own severed head and stumble around till she got where she wanted to go while dragging along a rabid crocodile chomping on her leg.
We got into Cortez at 3:30 am and drove strait to the hospital.
He had developed pneumonia the day before, but was doing pretty well, and had actually started responding to voices and trying to open his eyes.
All the details aside, we did what we could down there, came back Monday night as he was seeming to have stabilized and I felt okay heading home to get things here squared away enough to be comfortable with leaving for a longer period.
As we expected, things don’t look good and have deteriorated, so I’m on my way back to Cortez tomorrow morning. On my own this time. The girls have said their ‘I love you’s’ to their Grandad, spent their time with him and were able to say goodbye. They need to attend to life here for now.
I’ll be driving on the triple 6 highway once again, they can rename it 491 all they want, I’ll always call it the triple 6. I’ve been up and down that road all my life, half my dad’s relatives live in that area of Colorado & NM. I’ve been on it day, night, rain & shine, snow, even stopped for an emergency pee break on it. I always knew it wasn’t just another highway, I’d heard and read about the history, I knew all the stories about reported supernatural experiences & what not, and of course I knew what the number itself is supposed to represent… This last trip I didn’t need to drive the older, original part, actually considered the active, ‘haunted’ stretch, which would be from Cortez to Gallup, NM. I’m going to make a point of seeing/driving that part maybe next Summer. It’s my thing.
I have no idea how long I’ll be down there, and I won’t have too much access to the internet. My kingdom for a laptop and traveling internet!
Well, the only positive is its Spring and I don’t have to drive over Soldiers Summit in another blizzard… that was scarier than anything hwy 666 could throw at me!
