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Wednesday, February 9, 2005 - My mom calls shortly after midnight.  Dad couldn't breathe so they had to put him back on the breathing machine.

Thursday, February 10, 2005 - Dad's fever soars.  They have traced the infection to his gall bladder.  A surgeon calls mom for permission to place a tube in dad's gall bladder to drain the infection.  She says yes.  

Friday, February 11, 2005 - Dad is swelling again and has a high fever.  The nurses had to put him on ice.  He also has a bad abscess from being in bed so long.

Saturday, February 12, 2005 - Doctor tells us that dad is as bad as he was just after the heart attack.  Things are not going well at all.  We are all depressed.

Sunday, February 13, 2005 -  Dad's fever is coming down a bit but his breathing is at 60%.  He will be on the breathing machine for a few days longer.

We are all so tired.

Monday, February 14, 2005 -  It is Valentine's Day.  Dad is rapidly failing.  A team of doctors confer and the family is called to the hospital.  We are advised to remove the breathing machine. At this point, Dad's breathing has flattened, his blood pressure is dependent upon the medications, his kidneys have failed to a point of dialysis, his lungs have major damage and an infection has spread throughout his chest.  The doctors are no longer sure if his gall bladder is the main cause of the infection.  The doctors tell us that they can keep him breathing for a long while, but basically he is gone.  They of course, cannot tell us 100% that he will not make a comeback, but the chances are slim to none.

My mom cannot pull the life support; after conferring with the doctors, it is decided that we will give Dad 24 hours to make progress.  A trake must be inserted soon into his throat if life saving treatment is to continue.

I look at my Dad.  His eyes are set and there is no sign of life.  I hold his hand.  I pray.  I feel the spirit when I pray and I try to believe that he will pull off another miracle, but in my heart of hearts, I feel that my Dad has been dead since Sunday morning.  The gall bladder drain only worsened his condition; his heart had played out and was too weak to fight anything anymore.

Tuesday, February 15, 2005 -  I call the CCU early in the morning and the nurse talks with me.  He feels that Dad is basically gone and that we need to remove the machines.  I call mom.  After talking with her, she also agrees.  Tom and I pick her up and go to the hospital.

Shortly after we arrive, two doctors meet with us and tell us that if we do not pull the plug, Dad needs dialysis immediately.  We all feel that it will only prolong his misery.  He is too far gone.  The doctors feel that his kidneys will possibly  recover and  if they do, that he will most probably be on permanent dialysis.  The doctors also feel that he will never get off the breathing machine, even if they can somehow cure his massive infection.

I go to my Dad's room and he is gone.  Nothing is left of him and only the machine keeps him going now.  I see a tear in the corner of his right eye and I wonder how much he knows at this point.  Is his eye just watering?  Is he in pain?  How much does he know?  When he was conscious that single day, he was in quite a jumble and very confused.  Surely, his thoughts - if any at this point, would be jumbled.  I do not feel that he would be laying there, thinking and praying to God as he would in his well state.

The Chaplin is with us; the doctors pull the machine telling us beforehand that Dad could last several days without dying.  He barely lasted two minutes.  Two short gasps, and he was gone.  My Dad finally flew.  

I remember one of his favorite doctors telling us several days ago when Dad got off the vent, that he would be going home in about a week  if all went well.  It's been exactly a week and Dad went home, but unfortunately for us, it was not his humble little home with a flock of grandchildren, a loving wife, and a garden space waiting for him to turn the soil and plant the seeds.  It is a home where the streets are made of pure gold and where I am sure that by now, God is wondering why on earth He decided to take Dad from us, because my Dad is a handful and is probably driving all the Saints completely nuts.  He's probably plowed up half of heaven by now.  

That is my story.  It is also my Dad's story.  If he were here now, how differently he would conduct his life.  His diet played a major roll in his diabetes, and in turn, the diabetes damaged his heart, fatally.  

My Dad would tell you that if you are currently fighting your weight, please begin now to eat a healthier diet and to exercise so you can avoid going through a situation like he did.  More importantly, you will save your loved ones so much heartache.  If you can't do it for yourself, please do it for them.

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