My Dad
By Corrine Anderson, RN, CHPN
[email protected]
May 21, 2001
Note: Corrine has been a hospice nurse for many years in Fort Worth. She is now a Nurse Practitioner focusing on Palliative Care and End of Life Care. This is a copy of her email to her hospice friends with her story about her father's death. Those of us who are hospice staff or volunteers will recognize some of our patients and families in this story. My thanks to Corrine for allowing me to post this story.
Dear Friends,
When I arrived here on Saturday morning and found my dad in the middle of visiting with family, relatives, and friends, I was wondering if I had made a mistake--and if the reports I had gotten were exaggerated on his condition. However, as I began to help assist him from wheelchair to bed to bedside commode, I realized he had no strength in his legs and sometimes he was with it enough to cooperate, sometimes totally lost to where we were. I drew the straw to stay up with him during the night hours, being a new and "trained" reinforcement, so I set out to accomplish this. The hospice nurse had been here and since reports of Fri. night were filled with no sleep and lots of activity up and down to BSC, etc., she got us some Ativan to help control things.
Well,--despite 4 mg. of Ativan over 6 hrs. time, my dad talked continually and worked out his life events with pantomime activity there in the bed all night long. .One task that took a lot of time and energy was preparing his old car to go "on a trip." He put on the luggage rack, fixed "seal-beam headlights" and relined the brakes. When he finally accomplished that (with some supportive verbal help from my brother), he washed his hands and never mentioned the car again! This was interspersed with a beatific smile as he looked to the ceiling and talked with various people who were dead for some time. They were apparently enjoying one grand feast and he went through the pantomime actions of eating bunches of food, which he described in very ordinary terms except to say over and over how good it was and how great it made him feel!
Toward morning his breathing patterns became very labored and it truly looked like he would stop breathing with each set of irregular respirations. My brother and sister decided others should be called so grandkids and others from town arrived about 9 a.m. and spent the day. Various ones sat with dad, others were in other parts of the house, telling stories and having a great time of supporting and enjoying each other. One granddaughter was celebrating her 16th birthday, so the young people were keeping the house lively(!), but would each break away at times to go sit alone with Dad. During the day my dad continued to talk all day long, greeted friends who arrived to say good by and
demonstrated a sense of humor that none of his family knew he had!! He gave us all memories without trying! It was such a special day and one that I could not think of ever having missed!
Then finally about 10 p.m. when we settled to how we would deal with this night, I got to go to bed. Others sat with Dad. At that time he began to be less able to speak and was becoming less able to swallow, etc. Labored breathing continued, and we wondered still with every breath when life would be finished. He began to have a death rattle around 2 a.m. I was up at 4 a.m. and sat with him to relieve others. Just before 6 a.m. it seemed he had taken his last breath and my brother and I went to wake and gather others--and only after we returned and gathered around the bed, he started breathing once again. Finally at 7, he really did stop--and the family rejoiced to know he was in a better place! We gathered around the bed, held hands and through our tears sang the Doxology--it wasn't pretty, but it was very expressive of how we all felt at that time.
It was altogether such a special experience, and I'm so grateful to those of you who helped me get things put in order to be here. I know I was needed, and the family appreciated my skills, but I needed to be here as a family member and daughter.
At one point when things seemed to be dragging on--my sister (all of my siblings read "Final Gifts"), asked dad if there was anything he knew that was still undone or anyone he wanted to see. His answer was profound--"I came into this world by myself, and I have to go out by myself." My dad was never profound so this was quite a surprise in itself, but certainly sums up the experience.
The funeral will not be until Saturday. as there is a grandson graduating high school here this week also--so we will be exercised in celebrations and sorrow all at the same time�Dad made it easier to do that by his comments and humor during those daytime and night hours.
Thanks to you all. I have a greater appreciation for family of course, but also of friends as I see how my mom is supported by so many in the neighborhood and community. More later.
Corrine