I just found out a friend lost his father. I am so sad for his loss. I started writing an email to him about the last months with my father and then realized, I should just send good thoughts to my friend and not use his loss as a chance for my own catharsis, but I started writing and decided to publish it here 'cause this is the place for me.
In August/September/October, we honestly thought he'd get better. In November, we realized his kidneys were indeed failing and the chances he would get better were very slim. My brothers remained convinced that he would have a lot more time--like 6-9 months. I was guessing 3-4 weeks. In the end, it was about 6-7 weeks.
I visited in November and spent a week, said my goodbyes (it sucked), and I didn't think I would get to see him again. Saying goodbye was horrible. I wish I'd given him one more hug. But no matter how many I had given, I would always wish that. I spoke to him via phone a few times, but he couldn't really hear me and it was awful, so mostly I would tell Mom to tell him I loved him and talk to him through her.
It sounds awful to say, but I didn't want him to live for very long in the state I knew he'd be in if his kidneys were as bad as they appeared to be from the blood tests. I hoped for a miracle, or some recovery, but when it didn't happen, I knew he didn't want to live like that. I knew he wanted to live, and I wanted him to live, but not bed-bound and throwing-up all the time.
It was awful to watch him not able to eat. Absolutely awful. He'd say he wanted to eat something, and we'd get it, then he'd take one bite and say, "This is horrible." That wasn't my Dad. My Dad loved food. My Dad was strong. Watching him get weak was horrible. I am thankful that it wasn't that long of a horrible illness... I mean, it was 5 months of hospital, rehab, hospital, rehab, hospital, nursing home, but only one month and 1/2 of him "dying." Ugh though.
1 comment:
Ouch.
My sympathies.
Poor friend, poor you, your poor dad.
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