Friday April....oops May 1, 2009
I wrote an email to a friend and he said it would make a good blog, so here it goes...by the way, i am going to say "Friend' because i am being taught good blog ettiquette....but just so we know which friend i am talking about...Karl...he is a good close friend, so close we were married once....no last names, see? I am doing it right, right?
ok, here is the 'blog'
Did I ever answer this question about if MRSA killed my daddy? MRSA shut down his organs so in essence, he did die from it, but not technically…congestive heart failure was what they wrote on teh certificate....its what they write on all certificates. Mom had pancreatic cancer but died from congestive heart failure. I guess we all die from not breathing, so they can put that on all our death certs, right? ok, moving on.
….we pulled his ventilator, he slowly stopped breathing…I am so mad because I didn’t stick around to watch his last hours. we were all there for the 'pulling' but not for the 'dying'….i pictured him gasping for breath and thrashing around…I didn’t want to see that…none of us did. My other brothers (two halfs and one foster) and my x best friend all went out for dinner after we did the ventilator thing. Joni Stepmonster) and toni (Stepsister) stuck around….we were told by the doctors that people who had lived on so little oxygen for so long didn’t automatically ‘expire’ right after pulling the ventilator, that they sometimes lasted for days. There was no telling. They said that they were probably going to move him to another room because his ICU room was needed for other more critical patients. We were all given the distinct impression that we had time, that we could leave and come back….but none of us (brothers and me) wanted that. we were all very comfortable with our “good byes’ and when we left, we didn’t plan on coming back…I wanted to remember him laying there peacefully….oh God, he was so thirsty and kept asking for water…and they kept putting him off…he had been with out a drink of water for days, even though he was hydrated, it didn’t matter, he was thirsty…he kept asking me to get him a drink, I kept asking the nurses…they kept saying, “ in a sec”…he never got his drink of water….when the nurse said “in 5 minutes’ I told daddy and I will never forget how mentally “THERE” he was because when I told him, he rolled his eyes like ‘Oh yeah, right”…oh God…he was so mentally fine…his body was just not fine..
So…we all go to dinner, thinking Dad was going to be around for several hours….and we got the call in about one hour that he had gone….and that he woke up, turned to Joni and toni and said, “Am I dead yet?” and they ran over to him and comforted him and told him “no silly, you're not dead, you're right here and so are we”…then he closed his eyes, calmly laid back and died.
THAT SHOULD HAVE BEEN ME TELLING MY FATHER HE WASN’T DEAD YET, THAT EVERYTHIGN WAS FINE AND THA IT WAS RIGHT THERE. …not my fucking step sister….or stepmonster…oh God….
She made us all feel like shit after that…how “his own flesh and blood left him to die alone and how she was there” blah blah this has been eating at me for 5 years…..i should have been there for my dads last breath, ya know?I just thought once he realize he was out of air, that he was going to gasp and struggle and …well…act like someone suffocating…but he didn’t…he just peacefully passed away…without me being there…..oh God.
Well, I sure got myself all in a tizzy didn’t I?
His birthday is coming up and I have no grave to go visit him….stepmonter is keeping him from me….in a box, in her clost….no one can go see him, not just me….how cruel is that? She has a new man, a new life…why keep him from being in a grave where people can go visiti him….she wasn’t able to keep us apart while he was alive, though she sure tried…but now she sure can do it…and she is.
I wish I had someone to help me stand up to her….graves are not something I ever thought I cared about….but there is something about going and sitting near one, and talking, reflecting…just being with that persons memory in some peaceful environment…I know…people say “Make your own grave for him Susan. Bury his cowboy boot”…well, it isn't the same God dammit…I want his grave…I want my Dad out of her clutches…and into a grave where his sons and daughter and friends can go ‘be with him’.
Oh God, I gotta stop/
I wrote an email to a friend and he said it would make a good blog, so here it goes...by the way, i am going to say "Friend' because i am being taught good blog ettiquette....but just so we know which friend i am talking about...Karl...he is a good close friend, so close we were married once....no last names, see? I am doing it right, right?
ok, here is the 'blog'
Did I ever answer this question about if MRSA killed my daddy? MRSA shut down his organs so in essence, he did die from it, but not technically…congestive heart failure was what they wrote on teh certificate....its what they write on all certificates. Mom had pancreatic cancer but died from congestive heart failure. I guess we all die from not breathing, so they can put that on all our death certs, right? ok, moving on.
….we pulled his ventilator, he slowly stopped breathing…I am so mad because I didn’t stick around to watch his last hours. we were all there for the 'pulling' but not for the 'dying'….i pictured him gasping for breath and thrashing around…I didn’t want to see that…none of us did. My other brothers (two halfs and one foster) and my x best friend all went out for dinner after we did the ventilator thing. Joni Stepmonster) and toni (Stepsister) stuck around….we were told by the doctors that people who had lived on so little oxygen for so long didn’t automatically ‘expire’ right after pulling the ventilator, that they sometimes lasted for days. There was no telling. They said that they were probably going to move him to another room because his ICU room was needed for other more critical patients. We were all given the distinct impression that we had time, that we could leave and come back….but none of us (brothers and me) wanted that. we were all very comfortable with our “good byes’ and when we left, we didn’t plan on coming back…I wanted to remember him laying there peacefully….oh God, he was so thirsty and kept asking for water…and they kept putting him off…he had been with out a drink of water for days, even though he was hydrated, it didn’t matter, he was thirsty…he kept asking me to get him a drink, I kept asking the nurses…they kept saying, “ in a sec”…he never got his drink of water….when the nurse said “in 5 minutes’ I told daddy and I will never forget how mentally “THERE” he was because when I told him, he rolled his eyes like ‘Oh yeah, right”…oh God…he was so mentally fine…his body was just not fine..
So…we all go to dinner, thinking Dad was going to be around for several hours….and we got the call in about one hour that he had gone….and that he woke up, turned to Joni and toni and said, “Am I dead yet?” and they ran over to him and comforted him and told him “no silly, you're not dead, you're right here and so are we”…then he closed his eyes, calmly laid back and died.
THAT SHOULD HAVE BEEN ME TELLING MY FATHER HE WASN’T DEAD YET, THAT EVERYTHIGN WAS FINE AND THA IT WAS RIGHT THERE. …not my fucking step sister….or stepmonster…oh God….
She made us all feel like shit after that…how “his own flesh and blood left him to die alone and how she was there” blah blah this has been eating at me for 5 years…..i should have been there for my dads last breath, ya know?I just thought once he realize he was out of air, that he was going to gasp and struggle and …well…act like someone suffocating…but he didn’t…he just peacefully passed away…without me being there…..oh God.
Well, I sure got myself all in a tizzy didn’t I?
His birthday is coming up and I have no grave to go visit him….stepmonter is keeping him from me….in a box, in her clost….no one can go see him, not just me….how cruel is that? She has a new man, a new life…why keep him from being in a grave where people can go visiti him….she wasn’t able to keep us apart while he was alive, though she sure tried…but now she sure can do it…and she is.
I wish I had someone to help me stand up to her….graves are not something I ever thought I cared about….but there is something about going and sitting near one, and talking, reflecting…just being with that persons memory in some peaceful environment…I know…people say “Make your own grave for him Susan. Bury his cowboy boot”…well, it isn't the same God dammit…I want his grave…I want my Dad out of her clutches…and into a grave where his sons and daughter and friends can go ‘be with him’.
Oh God, I gotta stop/
posted by Susan @ 10:31 AM
1 Comments
