Later That Morning

Sue had only slept one hour Friday night. In anticipation of the drive here, she had downed three cups of coffee. Once in bed, she was unable to sleep and spent most of the night reading. She went to take a nap when we got home from the hospital so she'd be awake enough to drive back to finish off her anniversary weekend with her husband. A friend came over and sat with me for an hour or so. Carmi came by. She was crying, her face was swollen. She was feeling guilty because Dad had asked her not to leave him Friday. She had said she needed to see her doctor because she was worried about her blood sugar levels and her cholesterol. As it turned out, they were high as was her weight, her doctor was running very late, and she waited a long time for the pharmacy to fill her prescriptions. Although her appointment had been scheduled for 8:30 a.m., she hadn't returned to the HCC until after noon. When she got there, Dad's fever was raging, and the relief person hadn't notified the HCC personnel in time. He had been checking Dad for a fever by pressing his hand against Dad's cheek. Another example of that person's enormous ineptitude. About a week before this, Dad's doctor had warned me that if the relief caregiver wasn't more on top of things, he'd kill my dad. Carmi had asked me if I would keep the guy on as long as Dad was in a medical facility. Against my better judgement, I agreed. I just didn't think he could have done anything so negligent in that environment with the safety nets they had in place. I was wrong and I'll have to live with that. Laura and Kyle arrived later Saturday morning. I started making phone calls. Beth was in transit from being up in northern Idaho and was returning home. She arranged to stay the night at her daughter's near the airport while her husband continued home. What was I feeling then? I couldn't identify it. I was numb. I can't say I was surprised; Dad was 92 and he had been fighting this pneumonia for over seven weeks. His health had been going downhill for a good six to eight months. There was a part of me that was relieved he didn't have to fight anymore. There was a part of me that was glad he wasn't going to have to suffer any further indignities to his body. He had been so ill so many times, and I had gotten used to the trips back and forth to the hospital. During the week or so he had become unable to speak clearly. The feeding tube he'd been given on his 92nd birthday had been an assault to both his physical and mental being. This death on this day could have been avoided, but I believe we would only have been able to postpone the inevitable a few more days. The intervals between hospital visits were getting shorter and shorter, and the antibiotics were less and less effective. This time he had been off the antibiotics only a matter of hours before his fever had returned. Later, talking to a friend whose father had also been a daughter, she said, "My dad always said pneumonia was an old person's friend because it would take them out." That is certainly true.