So, my dad had
Parkinsons Plus plus a small handful of other obscure neurological conditions and was deteriorating at a steady clip. He was for all intensive purposes completely physically crippled and quickly losing his mental cognitive abilities. Although he was diagnosed a couple years ago, it was apparent that something was wrong quite a bit earlier, although probably only to him and myself. The last few years probably weren't great for any of us as he had always been very active physically and socially and hadn't been able to enjoy virtually any of the activities that he loved in his later years.
On Thursday evening I made him some of one of his favorite deserts:
Icebox cake, and drove it over to my parent's place. He had just gone to bed but we asked him if he wanted to get up and he did. He was super pumped, and we got him out of bed and had some cake. I put him back in bed, shook his hand, and told him I'd see him on the weekend. He thanked me for the cake and said, very clearly and coherently (kinda rare lately): "Thanks Gregg! See you on the weekend!".
At lunch the next day I got a call from my mom. She had taken him out to try a new restaurant and he had choked. He was in an ambulance on the way to the hospital. The last thing I heard was that he was breathing when they loaded him up. I left work to meet her at the hospital.
His heart stopped in the ambulance. We had all talked about it with him previously and had gotten a non-resuscitation order for him: Basically saying that if his heart stopped no advanced measures would be taken to bring him back. In the commotion my mother didn't give the paramedics the order and they revived him. His heart stopped again in the hospital for fifteen minutes, and again they revived him before either of us arrived. He was now stable and alive, but didn't have the strength to fully breath on his own. A re-breather had been affixed prior to us arriving and we opted to leave it in until my sister could arrive from Toronto. She got on a plane immediately. We all essentially knew what was happening: we'd pull it and he'd die shortly thereafter.
The hospital was amazing and provided us a "comfort room", which was essentially a private waiting room. Our palliative care doctor was contacted and she put us in contact with her colleague at the hospital to make sure he was comfortable throughout the wait. Family and friends from our "west coast branch" came and waited with us, and eventually we all got some time to spend with him - both as a group and individually and I am extremely thankful for that. Eventually my sister arrived just before midnight, and we all said goodbye as a group.
Everyone else left, the technician and doctor came in and warned us it might not be pretty. They pulled the re-breather as my mom held him and my sister and I each took one of his hands. He took it like a champ and didn't flinch or gasp when they pulled the tube. He hung in there, my mom lifted his eye lid to see his eyes one last time and cradled him. Eventually the breathing got more shallow and he just stopped. I tried not to cry like a bitch.
Honestly, as sad as it is when someone dies and I worry about my mother, I couldn't be more happy with how things went. Everything just lined up so perfectly - I had a chance to see him at his best the night before and surprise him, he had a great day and was in a great mood leading up to it, he went out eating a delicious sandwich, and he held on until my sister could say goodbye and I could finally tell him what he meant to me. He went out peacefully, comfortably, and surrounded by loved ones and I don't think you could ask for anything more.
I'm mainly just posting this to get my girly feelings out, but I also really want to thank K-man for stressing the importance of telling people how you feel while you have the chance. I personally didn't take it up, even though I actually thought of it while I closed the door his last night alive - I didn't want to "ruin" his good mood with a depressing topic. I did eventually get it in, even if it was only for me (although I personally will hold on to the belief that he could hear what I had to say). Thanks again, buddy.
