Things I Want To Remember

During the last few days of Dad's life, many hours were spent in the room with him, caring for him, keeping him company, and making him stay in bed. 
Each day was a new problem to solve - how to get Dad up after a fall, how to move him around on the bed without hurting him, how to get him to eat something.  Seemingly small things - but we had no experiance with one so sick. 
There was a special chair that we called "the viewing seat"  that seemed to be in Dad's line of vision the way he naturally laid in bed.  That seat was rarely empty - even when Dad slept.
For Dad, Stan was someone he could depend on.  On Sunday night I watched as Stan sat in the viewing seat, and Dad looked at him with such love in his eyes.  Stan helped him out of bed when he wanted up, he was a refuge from all the women mothering him - I think. 
We developed a system for getting Dad out of bed to use the bathroom.  It usually took 3 people - but 2 could do it in a pinch.  Carolyn and I managed on Sunday morning, JR and I on Saturday, and after that Jason, Stan, and I worked it out.
When Jason arrived on Sunday and saw Dad, he was so upset.  It was impossible to know how much Dad needed help unless you were actually there in that house.  But Dad told Jason a rude joke - later in the day as they watched the Bengal's game.
Things that made Dad smile - a note from Shirley Meurer that talked about their fun times together, learning that Navy beat Army, a Christmas card from Susan with pictures of Dan and Stephanie, Jason's visit (Dad said "I love this guy"), each note the Hessler's sent.  a note from his Florida friends Horst and Lily, who talked about their dog leaving treats at Dad's door, and the many fun times they had. 
I got Dad a Connie Francis Christmas CD and we played it a lot in his room.  Dad loved Connie Francis - and one time I saw his lips moving during the Ave Maria and asked him if he was singing. 
Stan began sleeping downstairs so he could hear Dad if he moved - hopefully to stop him from trying to get out of bed on his own.  Between Thursday and Sunday morning Dad fell 3 or 4 times trying to get out of bed.  Jason, Stand and I kept watch over him in his room on Sunday night, and Lauren and Susan joined the rotation on Monday night.  On Monday night everone dozed - either in Dad's room or right outside his door, on couches, chairs, and the floor.  We all just wanted to be close.
Dad had his last "bath" on Monday.  As out of it as he was, when the nurse aide asked if he wanted to be shaved, Dad said "No" - emphatically.  She showed Susan and I how to change the sheets while Dad was still in bed, how to take care of him personally, how to moisten his mouth with some special sponges on a stick. 
On Tuesday, Susan and I cleaned Dad up some before Betsy - his primary nurse - arrived.  He expressed some irritation at us rolling him around, but didn't seem to focus much.  We all were wondering - is this the 'coma"? When Betsy came in he didn't respond to her voice as he had to the nurse aide on Monday.  She checked Dad over and used one of those sponges to wet down Dad's mouth - much more agressively than Susan, Lauren, or I did - we didn't know how to do it and she was demonstrating what to do - teaching us how to care for him.  While Betsey was in the kitchen cleaning up, she was called from Dad's room.  Emily was in the viewing seat - and she and Susan said that Dad was in distress - waving his arms and such.  Betsey had us roll him on his side - and then said - "It's happening now".  We called Carolyn into the room, and Dad passed away.  Carolyn, Susan, Emily, Stan, Lauren, Betsy, and I joined hands as Carolyn led us in a Hail Mary, and we cried.  Connie Francis was singing in the background.
After Dad passed away, we did not leave him alone until the funeral home picked him up - several hours later.  By that time Elaine, Bill, Amanda, Jason, Julie, Curt, Leah, Tyler, JR, Les, and Joe had arrived. We sat in his room and kept talked about Dad.  Again the viewing seat was not empty.  As they wheeled Dad out, we played the Ave Maria again.
I spent many long hours with Jason, Lauren, and Emily. I'll love them forever - and will never forget the bond we shared as they cared for their Grandpa.