Being the Daughter

 To a father growing old nothing is dearer than a daughter.   Euripides

My Dad and I 

My Dad with one of the loves of his life, Ariana

I have been doing a lot of thinking of how I wanted to write out this blog entry, because you see, it is not just a 'blog entry' to me.  This is a raw, emotional, loving, saddening, yet empowering experience in my life, and I want to do it justice.  I want to do it in a respectful manner, because this is not about just me.  It is the beginning of the end of one mans story, the end of his journey earth side.  This is my fathers story and I am simply the storyteller.  I was simply the witness to the end of his physical life, and what an honour that was. 

I did not know how to start this out.  Do I just jump right in from the last post, sort of a 'continuing the story' or should this be a separate entity.  I chose to slightly separate it, hence the title.  This is the part of his story where the fighting was ending, the true honest love was shown and dignity was claimed.

I woke up on a rainy day - and accepted that my fathers time was coming near.  I called the hospital and was informed that my dad was still awaiting a room up in palliative care.  His own room.  I told the desk clerk to inform his nurse that I would be up in a little bit, with the kids.  I made the decision to take the kids the night before, after talking it over with Sean.  How would Ariana handle it.  He was not able to speak, and was not always opening his eyes... would she be okay with this?  I figured that the baby would be fine, as she was not even one yet.  On our way up to the hospital (as we were about to turn into the parking lot a song came on the radio - a song that Dad and I both enjoyed - even though it was quite cheesy.  I made Sean wait until the song was over before I would allow him to turn the engine off).

We finally made it up to see him, and ran into some friends of his from work, one of which was in town by chance.  I was glad to finally meet her, and see the other people there.  It meant a lot to me that people were visiting him.

I went into his room before the girls and Sean and I am so glad I did.  I realised that he was tied down again by his wrists.  I looked at him and said loudly "What the hell is THIS shit Dad?!  Give me a minute and I will get you untied".  He opened his eyes just a little and I saw a shadow of a smile.  I stormed out of the room past Sean and right up to the desk clerk, demanding to see his nurse (I must have made a real sight those days in the hospital, my funky hair, dark jeans and my LOUD 4 inch heeled boots.  I wore those boots when dad was put into the chemically induced coma, because I knew he could hear me, however I digress.).  The clerk kind of stuttered that she was at the other end of the hall near his room.  I looked down the hall saw her and started walking furiously towards her.  I remember DEMANDING not asking that she untie my father NOW that he deserved dignity and I would not even treat a dog that way.  Needless to say, either my voice, demeanour or both had her in that room really quick with another nurse (I like to think it was the boots).  They explained that it was because he was trying to pull at the dialysis tubes - I pointedly asked if he was going back on dialysis to which she replied "No."  so I snapped "Then take them out dammit and untie him".  I left the room and 5 minutes later they came out.  He was untied and the tubes were out (bandage in place) and he looked so much more peaceful.  The best part was, the only tube he had was the nose cannula for oxygen and a simple IV.

I brought the girls and Sean and and Larissa immediately started babbling away to him, smiling and bouncing in her daddies arms.  Ariana walked over slowly and said "Hi Grandpa".  She was nervous but so well spoken.  She had drawn him a picture so she put it on his bed.  I looked over and saw that his eyes were open and he had one little tear in one.

While we were there, we were informed a private room in palliative had opened up and they were moving dad in the next few minutes.  We decided to go with dad in the elevator as a family.  On the way up, Ariana was talking away, Larissa was cooing and smiling.

Once we got Dad settled in his room, I plugged in a radio I had brought from home.  My Dad loves music, as do I and a lot of my memories of him involve music.  There are many songs I hear and I think "I remember when Dad and I did/went/saw etc".  I knew he needed music in his room.  I checked his TV and saw that he had cable, so I put the NFL game on mute and turned the music up just a little.  The girls stayed for a while but Sean had to get them home for dinner and bedtime routines.  Ariana did not want to say goodbye, she said she was scared to say it.  I told her to just tell Grandpa what she wanted to say.  She told him she loved him and would visit again.  It was hard.

Then I was alone with Dad.  I looked at the darkening window, listening to the rain lightly hit and watching how the drops made the street lights shimmer.  His room faced a park, and no one was outside on this night.  I noticed movement on Dads bed, and I looked over to see him raising his arms, elbows bent, to his chest and then down again.  He did this quite a few times.  I stood up and asked him if he wanted to roll over.  He did not give me a clue to a yes or a no and then I told him I was going to go step outside for a minute, that I would be here for a while so it would only be minutes that I would be gone.  I bent over to kiss his cheek, which is when I noticed his face.  He was crying.  He was outright sobbing and he clung to my scarf.  His eyes were closed, and he could not speak but he was making some gut wrenching sounds of sadness.  He continued to try to lift his arms and I realised that he was trying to hug me.  He was trying to hold me and he needed to be held.  I went to the other side of the bed and laid down next to him and started to cry softly.  I asked him "Daddy are you ready to go?  Are you done fighting?"  And he shook his head.

He shook his head no.

I kissed his cheek and said simply said "Okay Daddy, then I will fight with you" and I laid my head down on his chest, with his arms around me, and sobbed.  I wept.  He wept.  I cried like a little girl on her daddies chest because in that moment I was that little girl.  I was not a mother, I was not a friend, I was not a spouse.  I was a little girl with her daddy and it felt SO GOOD.  We must have cried together for almost half an hour.  I released so much stress, pain, free with those tears and all that entered my mind were the good times.  The random car trips with my Dad.  Listening to Bon Jovi while driving fast on the highway to wherever we decided to go that day.  To sitting at the beach on a rainy afternoon in the car with my Dad while he smoked cigarettes and gave me his wisdom while listening to my little kid complaints.  Of shoulder rides to the ice cream place, of drawing pictures of Disney characters.  So many wonderful memories just came flooding in and while I cried and laid there feeling protected by my DAD, I allowed myself to finally just be the daughter.  And damn it felt good.  I did not think of hospitals and tests and that fucking horrible word that no one wants to hear.  I did not think of how I had been scared and felt alone, I thought of how LUCKY I was to have had my Dad ALL to myself.  

        

My Dad and my firstborn, Ariana.  This is the picture she keeps at her bedside.

After the tears fell, and he relaxed, I had him open his eyes.  He looked right into mine and I asked again (in a much calmer tone) "Are you sure you are not ready to go, to stop fighting" and he looked for a few minutes and shook his head.  I smiled at him and told him that I would not give up either then.  I then went for my little air break.

When I got back, I sat with Dad, talking until he got his meds to help him fall asleep for the night.  I asked the nurses to please help me roll him on his side, and that could they please make him more comfortable so he could get the first good sleep without being hooked up to all kinds of machines.  They smiled and went to task.  I left the hospital that night, at peace because I knew he would be there the next day, and because of how comfortable he looked that night as I said goodnight and went home to my babies and man.  


                                        

My Dad.  Finally comfortable.