Thoughts ... on death and other things, no just death

I have had a lot of loss in the past several years. Some told me the same thing, some different. Edward said he would get every treatment possible to have one more day with his kids. Clara told me she wanted to go home, more badly than anything else. Nancy told me she was done with treatments but that her family was not ready, so she would do more for them. More sickness, more pain, more painful treatment, for them. We would do anything we could for our family. We have all heard stories that the patient was/is ready to go, but the loved ones were not. That the patient was hanging on for them. For the sister/brother/spouse etc. to arrive and say good-bye.

I am not ready to say good-bye to my family, my girls, my grand kids, my mom. I am not ready. The older I get, the older she gets the more friends my age or within the decade I lose, I realize that my time to lose her is coming. And I am not ready. My mom and I have not had the time that I wanted. My fault. I get that there were other factors, but it is my fault I did not spend more time with my mom. That I worried about stupid things and missed the time I could have had cooking, sewing, shopping, or some things I liked. To hear all the stories about family events in her life. I did not start to concern myself with those things early enough. Was not open and honest enough early enough. I am not ready to lose her. I get that I still have her. I have been asking questions about family. I have been trying to change and get some of the things I missed out on, but age gets in the way with some. My mom runs circles around me on many levels, I still want what I missed.

I was grateful to meet Larry, my biological father. I never thought I would, I also did not think I would like him much. He is not my daddy, he never will be. However, he is my dad. I love him. I am so very grateful for the extra time and medical miracles that have kept him hanging on this long. I have held his hand during a heart attack, him turning gray and gasping for air, lips blue, clutching his chest with one hand, saying good-bye. And he is still here. We laugh when he can and say that he is too stubborn to die. No one wants him yet. But I think a lot of it has been a gift for me. I have had times when I have been so frustrated with his neanderthal thinking about what I could or could not do if I moved there that I have not wanted to talk to him. The pressure/chore/duty it was to call at a certain time made me angry. I have worked thru emotions with him quickly because I did not have my whole life to do it. I have repeated that I would not have liked him had he raised me when I was a teenager trying to figure out why I was so self destructive, we would have clashed big time!

He has been in the hospital for a few days. Had a surgery Friday. And honestly, thru the last month we have said good-bye and he has reminded me of things that I will need to do. The last visit which was under 48 hours, was just another comfortable good-bye and list of things that have been done, and will need done. That too had me frustrated at one time. I hated saying a final good-bye every time I talked to him. It hurt. I was not wanting our whole conversation/relationship to be a good-bye. I too, stepped back from that situation to look at it thru his eyes and stopped being frustrated. He needed to do that.

Tomorrow I told him I would call. He has yet another surgery on Monday.  The doctors keep telling him there is zero they can do for him. That no surgery will help. He has saturation rates of 97-100, he does not need oxygen. He cannot breathe because his heart does not work. The oxygen helps him thru the episode, but that is it. So he keeps calling them over and over and over. He keeps going to the ER, because he is in pain. Because he cannot live like this. I hate that. I hate that death for some cannot be quick, painless, while you are sleeping. I hate that he looks at those 4 walls, not even turning on the TV for sound. He looks out at the yard and cries. He can no longer water his trees, the flowers have been gone for years. He says they need to get used to it because no one will water them when he is gone. He says he is ready. He says he is done. But when he is hurting, fighting for air, the instinct to breathe, to take nitro or have oxygen kicks in. Unfortunately he is not living a pain free life, not dying a pain free death. His doctors will keep doing what they need to keep doing to keep him happy/from calling, because he calls all the time. Until he is ready to let go, until he is ready to die, they will honor his wish to keep him alive until he is so bad his DNR kicks in. I have said, while holding his hand, I love you, I am so thankful I met you and spent time getting to know you, but go see Margaret. Go give your honey a hug. Go dance and laugh and breathe again. I need to tell him all of this again tomorrow. His greatest gift at this point would be to die on the operating table while in a medically induced sleep. I have to let him know that it is ok again. I have to let him know that I am ok with him going, to be happy again. I asked if he wanted me down there and he said no, we have said good-bye before, there is nothing for you to do. So I have to tell him. I have to call him on the phone and let him know, so he can be on morphine and at least as pain free as possible. Because despite the doctors performing 2 procedures in a few days time, this will not last. It may be for 1 day or 1 week, or 1 month, but it will not last. The pain and frustration will return the minute he is home. He will still not be able to water his trees. Those days are gone. I will tell him to go get Margaret and see their mansion in heaven with the beautiful flowers and trees.