Wednesday, June 18, 2008
This picture is of my mom, dad, and yours truly at one week old. Gotta love the glasses.
At the end of March this year, Dad had what would be called in medical terms as a "respiratory incident". In layman's terms, his breathing had gotten weak and stopped. His care-taker, called an ambulance and paramedics performed CPR and suctioned the mucus out of his airway. They brought him to Hackensack Medical's ICU unit where he was placed on a ventilator.
The next day, Friday. His breathing got better and he was able to breathe without the ventilator. He wasn't fully conscious. But at least he was progressing and breathing on his own. They then moved him out of the ICU and he was placed in his own room.
Let me give a little background here. In 1999, Dad had an aortic aneurysm. Over the last nine years, he had gone from a very independent, active 75 year old, that was getting around on his own to gradually progressing to a cane, then a walker, then a wheelchair, then to being bed-ridden and being taken care of by my sister in her house in New Jersey. Over that period he was getting strokes and falling. With each "medical episode" the overall state of his health would go down a notch. Over the last several months, he would be more reactive than interactive with the surrounding world. The days where he was interacting and conversing were becoming fewer and further between.
That Saturday was surprising. I was the first one to arrive and visit him that day. I had been running late as I was dependent on public transportation to get from my apartment to New Jersey. I arrive at his room and there he is, bright-eyed, bushy-tailed and awake. As I enter the room he regards me with scrutiny and says: "Hey Stranger! Long time, no see. What? Did you join the army or something?"
I think those that know me can immediately tell where from that statement, exactly where I get a very very large part of my personality.
It was a very uplifting day. I was able to talk to him as well as my mom when she arrived. He was even on the phone with my aunt and had an extended conversation with her as well. The nursing staff told us that he had been up since seven in the morning and was talkative to the point of flirty to them.
Sunday came and it was as if a switch was turned off. He stopped interacting and talking and only would move to respond to pain or discomfort. He would lie in the hospital bed and be in a state of what looked like half-sleep. He was still breathing on his own, but it was as is he just shut down.
This continued for a week. He still did not come back to a level of activity that he had gotten to on that Saturday. He was then moved to Hackensack's hospice wing, where there is no heroic resuscitation measures, but there's focus on patient comfort.
Dad was in hospice for a month. I would spend the weekend travelling over to New Jersey to bring my mother over there and to visit for myself.
On Saturday April 26th at about 4pm. Dad died quietly in his sleep while my mother and I were saying prayers by his bedside.
Its been almost two months since that day. I miss him. Happy birthday Dad. I hope you're enjoying some Johnny Walker Black and having Lechon at some mah-jong game looking down at us and making everyone around you laugh.
So dear reader, I hope that adds a little bit of clarity on why its been a little dusty around here. Since then, life has been tied up with arrangements and dealing. At first, things were tough for me because Sarita and I scheduled a break in our workout for a couple of weeks that coincided with this point in time. I say that it was tough, because the workouts were the only points during this period that were for me and me alone. There wasn't any worries or issues except for the current problem in front of me during the workout, which was usually a kettlebell, the end of a weightlifting repetition, or a kick/punch combo. Not having something like that to focus my brain on, keeps a person inside their own head. Talking to people helped, but beating up my trainer with kickboxing combinations was a really great outlet.
At this current moment, I am in preparation for our family's trip to the Philippines to bring his ashes back. I'll resume with more posts and plenty of pictures.
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3 comments:
We're thinking of you and your family as you make the physical journey to the Philippines and the emotional one as well. Thanks for sharing so much!
(the deleted post was me - I realized it didn't have my name on it, just my blogger acct. --Lisa)
I am reading this post on Thanksgiving weekend 2020... It still chokes me up. Being with my cousins on Turkey Day, we are all still missing you Dear Pat. No one will ever take your place. ❤
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