I’ve Been Negligent… I’m Sorry

The post with my dad’s obituary on November 6, 2016, was the last post I have written here. Writing a new post will push it down below this one… I wasn’t ready to do that before, I am not sure if I am ready now.

I was not ready for any of this; my hubby is diagnosed with Lymphoma on December 13, 2015 and goes through a course of chemo. In April of 2016, my mother is diagnosed with lung cancer and given four to six weeks to live. She had chemo for a couple of months, but it was too much for her, so she stopped the chemo. She has been on oxygen ever since, using an oxygen machine at home. She is still with us today, but recently she has been in the hospital several times. She has congestive heart failure and her lungs fill with fluid so she get pneumonia. In the hospital they give her medicine, then send her home.

In September of 2016, my dad was suddenly showing signs of illness. At the end of September, he went to the emergency room twice, only to be released. Something was very wrong. On Thursday, September 29th, 2016, dad had a massive stroke.

This is really hard… I write this with tears flowing freely… This is not necessarily a bad thing…

Since the stroke, there was only only one word he could say, it was “Eila,” my mother’s name. There was something he wanted to share, and on Saturday and Sunday he tried to speak to both of us. His frustration was apparent as he tried to form the words that would not come. I privately assured him that he did not have to worry about mom for I would be there for her. He seemed to relax a little.

On Tuesday, October 4th 2016, my mother and I were sitting on opposite sides of his bed, me on his right, mom on his left. We had just been asked by the hospital staff to decide which nursing home we should place dad in. Dad had an oxygen mask on, and he could not speak, but as I looked into his beautiful crystal blue eyes, they were clear. He knew what was going on. As mom and I talked, I glanced at dad and his mask seemed to fog up. I reached for his hand, but it was too late. The nurses came bursting into the room; the alarm at the nurse’s desk had gone off. Dad’s heart had stopped.

I begged him to come back, even when I knew he could not.