thursday, february 26, 2015
These last few days dad experienced breathing trouble.
Low oxygen levels became the result.
Now a simple mask he wore rectifying this.
Looking very uncomfortable dad indeed was.
Soon oxygen levels rose causing our relief to be felt.
His comfort became over looked.
Then a fearful call rang home.
Occurring once again, oxygen had dropped.
A last treatment now became available.
If this didn't work, only two options remained.
Quietly passing away with dignity.
Becoming hooked to a mindless “breathing” machine.
In our hearts we knew never a machine he would want.
On my way home from work I stopped.
A big heavy mask I witnessed him wearing.
With this mask a powerful, noisy soulless pump came attached.
Told oxygen levels had improved, the mask was working.
That night there was no visit, for I had been.
I didn't want mom to see him in that mask.
Didn't want that memory for her.
The following day, the 26th, started off on a cautiously positive note.
Early reports were good.
The heavy mask was off, the simple was back on.
In a few days our Florida vacation would start.
Gary arrived that day to care for mom and dad while we were away.
Some x-rays I needed taken the next day that involved unwanted perp.
So after dinner, everyone else left to visit.
Gone barely two minutes the hospital calls, dad is experiencing problems they said.
Called Kath to warn all.
Minutes slowly, stressfully pass, Kath calls, dad is gone.
A slow, quite drive I make threw the darkness.
A message to my boss I send.
I ride the elevator to dads floor.
The doors open.
Kath is there.
Gary had already started making arrangements.
A minister is there.
Some papers I sign.
The room is uncharacteristically, unusually quite.
All machines are off.
His nurse is very distraught.
I sit with mom watching the air mattress still lifting and lowering him.
Slowly, softly we leave.
My x-rays are taken at the same hospital a mere 12 hours earlier dad died.
Then the journey of planing dads funeral began.
Lisa has booked her family's flights.
A true realization that dad now is gone sweeps over us all.
Our worlds are forever changed.
Nothing can ever be the same.
Home is no more.
doug thornhill (dct)