Meire Marion's Corner...: February 2017

February will be a month to be remembered.

On Thursday, February 09, 2017, I arrived home made myself a cup of coffee and some toast. It had been an exhausting Thursday full of classes and no free periods. As soon as I started doing the dishes after having the coffee, my cell phone rang. It was my youngest sister saying that she had called an ambulance for dad. I was out the door even before hanging up.

Being that it was already rush hour, I imagined that it would take me over an hour to get to dad´s home. Apparently traffic was good and I got there faster than I had imagined, just in time to see him in the ambulance. My older nephew rode with him while mom and I went in my car.

As soon as I reached dad in the ER he waved and said that he was leaving. He has always been a joker so I played along with the joke. He was very scared and nervous and shivering for he had a fever. Well, I put my hands on his chest and he turned to me and said I had blessed hands for there was warmth coming out of them. At the time, I just smiled because I was in prayer and trying to warm him up a bit.

Pretty soon the whole family was there. We took turns because only one person was allowed in the ER with the patient. We tried to keep the faith that everything would be alright, but deep down inside I knew that this time his health was worse than the last admission to the hospital which was New Year´s Eve.

He had gone for a chemo therapy session just before Christmas and came down with pneumonia. Two weeks before the Thursday mentioned he had also gone in for another session. You see dad trusted his doctor and never asked “How much time do I have?” he didn´t want to know. He lived one day at a time and fought each battle as he faced it. Nonetheless, I knew since he was diagnosed that it might have been weeks.

Weeks? This was in November of 2016. After the doctor told him he had lung cancer, I stayed behind and asked how bad it was. To my sadness, he said it was the most aggressive cancer there was. A hole opened up beneath me. Dad and I had a real close bond. We did not need to verbalize what the other was thinking. My dad was going to die.

As soon as he started his treatment, I also started one for I needed to be strong for him, so I went back to my shrink and all my other doctors. I do have a bone marrow something that nobody has diagnosed and I really did not need that to act up again.

Months went by of spending time with dad and taking care of him. Medical visits, chemo therapy sessions, making sure he would take his medication properly, driving to the drugstore to get his medication, making him food he could and would eat.

Everyone in the family was doing their share. But after New Year´s Eve his health just started going downhill. He lost a lot of weight and he needed to be hooked up to an oxygen machine 24/7.

Luckily, I was on vacation and spent each day going to his house at 6am and leaving at 10pm. It was a blessed time for me for magically my physical pain vanished when I was there helping him and keeping him company. We laughed, cried, talked, played cards, I helped him with his bath, rubbed lotion on his body so he would not get bed wounds, cooked and cleaned. Vacation was coming to an end so we hired someone to take care of him, but on weekends it was my job at least until midday on Sunday.

I remember that he used to say that he was grateful for my help. He also said that Monday was the worst day for him because I would not be there. But then I said that I would be back on Friday and he would say “ a day to look forward to”.

Back to February 09, 2017. Dad and I waited in the ER until 4:30 am before we headed up to a room. It was a sleepless night. I was the one who spent the nights at the hospital. At 10am the next morning my middle sister, nephew or younger sister would go to spend the day until mom would go. As I said each one did the best they could to help.

I knew things were different this time because the little voice that he had was withering away and he had a very bad bladder infection.

On Saturday February 11^th, he probably had the roughest night in all his hospital history and I thought that he was going to suddenly stop breathing, so I spent the night talking to God and crying. He was just in so much pain, he was horrible to watch. At one point, he grabbed my hands and kissed them and said how much he loved me. I repeated the gesture but asked him why he was doing that. All he said was “ You know”.

Strong man as he was, he took his shower on Sunday morning and received his visits. I came home. That night I would not be sleeping at the hospital with him because I had class the next morning. I left with my heart on my sleeve.

I got home, planned my Monday classes, prepared my lunch and took just a small amount of my sleep medication, which I had stopped taking, to get some rest. I went to bed at 8:30 pm and as soon as I finished my prayers, my cell phone rang. It was a cousin who never called. She said my sister was asking me to go to the hospital. I didn´t let her finish the sentence and said “ Dad is passing.”

I had taken sleep medication so I couldn´t drive. I called a close friend for help and they came to pick me up, but the son who answered the phone, misunderstood me and thought that I was already at the hospital. The agony. I was waiting downstairs and nothing. People calling me up from the hospital sobbing. Then my middle sister called and said “where are you? He is calling out your name. He is ready to pass.” My stomach ached. There I was waiting for my ride and all the pressure coming from the hospital. I stood there and prayed. I also said, in my heart, “go dad. Stop suffering. I will be alright.”

Finally, my friends arrived and driving madly we got to the hospital in time.

When I arrived in the room, my sisters were sobbing and asking dad to breathe in the oxygen mask, which he was removing from his face. My middle sister said that I had arrived, his face lit up. I whispered in his ears that everything would be alright, that I loved him and thanked him for being my father. He said the same to me. Then my younger sister asked him not to leave, I admit that I was rough and ordered her to stop that and to let dad go. Then I went back to his ear and told him to run to the arms of Jesus. I told him that I knew he could see Him. I told him to run fast.

I stepped aside; he turned to his right and curled up in the fetal position, surrounded by love and tears he passed. February 12, 2017 at 10:20pm

Dad said goodbye to his wife, three daughters, sons-in-law and older grandchildren, also a close friend who is a Pastor, Maria. He called each one by their name. I will never forget his thank you, I love you, God bless you and so many other stories we shared throughout these 50 years as his daughter.

Rest In Peace Dad until we meet again :-)