Steely
Active Member
My Dad's spirit has left, and we are coping with simply caring for his body until it too passes on. I arrived this morning, and his speech was gone, he cannot eat or drink, and he has fallen into intermittent consciousness.
My Mom has been next to him all day, and the rest of us have taken turns holding his hand. I guess in a way, things feel better because he looks at peace. We have started giving him morphine and d/c all his medications except for his anti-seizure medication.
His choking fits had been so horrible, that yesterday I asked the nurse, what should we do? Feed him and risk him choking to death, or tell him he can't eat and let him starve to death? It was so black and white - the 2 paths to his death - both of which seemed almost inhumane. The nurse said that it was not our decision to make, but his. Wow. I sat there praying that Heidi went super fast - and did not have to suffer. Just as I was thinking this the nurse looked up at a picture of Heidi and me on a shelf. She said, "Oh you have a sister?" I just lost it. Just out of the blue started sobbing. Poor nurse. She had no idea.
So my dad is resting, peaceful, right where he wants to be looking at his mountain. I am having periodic crying jags, and moments of serenity knowing this is almost over. I think the feeling that pieces of me are being carved out of my soul is the feeling I am trying to fight the most. It is a physical feeling, making me barely able to eat. My sister, my dad - gone. It feels like someone is taking a melon scooper and just scooping out my soul. I know they will always be with me in memory - and in spirit - but yet on this earth I keep feeling more and more hollow.
The other struggle for me is that I have always felt like I am not good enough for my Dad. It has been a constant life long feeling, as he could be verbally abusive (and abusive in other ways). More than anything I wanted him to tell me that he was proud of me before he died. And he hasn't. He won't. My self esteem has sort of gotten tangled in the hopes of a type of closure that was unrealistic. I was sitting by his bed, and wanting him to tell me how much I meant to him, and nothing. I tried to tell him how much he meant to me, but I guess it was too late, because his mind was drifting elsewhere. All of the people that don't know him as a father, ie their 500 friends, can say nothing but glowing and wonderful things about him. And I guess I get jealous. Why couldn't he have been that type of father to me? The person that everyone else idolizes, should have also been a father I idolize. But it is really only me that feels cheated and sad.
My Mom has been next to him all day, and the rest of us have taken turns holding his hand. I guess in a way, things feel better because he looks at peace. We have started giving him morphine and d/c all his medications except for his anti-seizure medication.
His choking fits had been so horrible, that yesterday I asked the nurse, what should we do? Feed him and risk him choking to death, or tell him he can't eat and let him starve to death? It was so black and white - the 2 paths to his death - both of which seemed almost inhumane. The nurse said that it was not our decision to make, but his. Wow. I sat there praying that Heidi went super fast - and did not have to suffer. Just as I was thinking this the nurse looked up at a picture of Heidi and me on a shelf. She said, "Oh you have a sister?" I just lost it. Just out of the blue started sobbing. Poor nurse. She had no idea.
So my dad is resting, peaceful, right where he wants to be looking at his mountain. I am having periodic crying jags, and moments of serenity knowing this is almost over. I think the feeling that pieces of me are being carved out of my soul is the feeling I am trying to fight the most. It is a physical feeling, making me barely able to eat. My sister, my dad - gone. It feels like someone is taking a melon scooper and just scooping out my soul. I know they will always be with me in memory - and in spirit - but yet on this earth I keep feeling more and more hollow.
The other struggle for me is that I have always felt like I am not good enough for my Dad. It has been a constant life long feeling, as he could be verbally abusive (and abusive in other ways). More than anything I wanted him to tell me that he was proud of me before he died. And he hasn't. He won't. My self esteem has sort of gotten tangled in the hopes of a type of closure that was unrealistic. I was sitting by his bed, and wanting him to tell me how much I meant to him, and nothing. I tried to tell him how much he meant to me, but I guess it was too late, because his mind was drifting elsewhere. All of the people that don't know him as a father, ie their 500 friends, can say nothing but glowing and wonderful things about him. And I guess I get jealous. Why couldn't he have been that type of father to me? The person that everyone else idolizes, should have also been a father I idolize. But it is really only me that feels cheated and sad.
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