Daddy's Last Christmas

I've been avoiding this post for a while.  Seems as though if I don't post it's not real. 

But it is.

My Dad is dying.

*sigh*

First of all, this is not that unexpected.  He's had MS for 46 years.  And in his words, that's 46 years of hell.

Don't I know it.

MS effected all of us.  The life we led, the things we did, the vacations we didn't take...  in eighth grade I could dismantle and assemble his Mobie scooter in two minutes flat.  What a nice accomplishment.

I got stared at.  Then he got stared at.  And then I wanted to punch someone in the nose.  But he told me, just smile and look them in the eye.  So I did.

MS can is a disease that affects everyone differently.  We were lucky.  He had his mental faculties a very long time.  He was alert and he had great use of his hands and arms for a very long time.  He got hand controls for the van.  He didn't let it stop him.

Then, about 5 years ago, we could see a change.  He'd repeat himself.  He'd be confused.  He wouldn't make sense.  And then it would go away.

And then Boy #2 came along and my mom decided to pack them up from OK to live near us in TX. 

As with all parents, aging happens.  So it was no surprise that we saw deterioration.

And then came last Easter.  The start of the really bad stuff.  The months of hell. 

Daddy got pnuemonia the day after Easter.  This led to hospital stays of weeks at a time.  He lost a lot of mobility then.  He's prone to UTIs, these were scary.  He was delusional, calling for his dead relatives, his sister, his mom.  Screaming at the top of his lungs.  Thinking he was falling.  And all we could do was sit there.  In and out of the hospital and a rehab facility.  Over and over again.  Six weeks in a rehab center.  Home for a day, back in the hopsital.  And so it went.

Finally he agreed to have Hospice care.  That oragnization is such a blessing.  They don't just support end of life, but they prive nursing and the supplies that are needed.  He gets baths several times a week.  It's a little respite for my mom.

Then camethe  last UTI... a few weeks ago.  Like nothing I've ever seen.  He became unresponsive, fever, pnumonia, the works.  Days in ICU, he didn't know us.  It was horrible.  At least he doesn't remember that.

But I do.

Mom and I came to the very difficult decision that we can't do this anymore.  This cycle is endless, and excrutiating for all of us, and deadly for Daddy.  So, we brought him home.  We chose a funeral home.  Made decisions.  Cried.  Talked.  Mourned. 

So he's home.  He's not well.  He just came around after a week of confusion and agitation.  He screams, he cries, he sleeps.  He doesn't eat. 

He's still in Hell.

Christmas Day he wanted so badly to get up out of bed and try and join us at the table.  "This is my last Christmas and want to be at the table."  We obliged.

But he couldn't, the pain is just too awful. 

We opened presents with him in his room.  He didn't really know what was going on.  But we were there together.

Here we are

I find myself in this guilt ridden predicament.  No, of course I don't want Daddy to die.  But I don't want him like this either.  So I pray for a peaceful transition.  And sometimes, selfishly, I ask for it quickly.  It makes my heart twist all around when I do that though. 

So, we will take one day at a time.  Try and make the most of it.  I feed them when I can.  And I'll try to maintain for my two young cherubs at home who just don't understand yet.

Thanks for reading.  I needed this therapy.