A Rambling Update: Dad

So yesterday I went up to the hospital to see Dad and I was told it could be a couple of hours or a couple of days. Well, that's not what a person wants to hear, but I don't think that was what was so upsetting. I look back at pictures of my father who was such an encourager, who would be the first to volunteer to get something done. He was the one who a person could call on day or night and know he would get results.


When I see him now, unable to talk, take care of himself, or truly respond to what he may be hearing around him, I get upset. No one should have to be that way. Would it be better if he had just suddenly been gone by some accident? No, I don't think so. But the selfish me can't stand to watch him suffer. I don't think he is pain...he has been given enough morphine and tylenol. It is the psychological part of it all. Is he hanging on for some reason? Is he saying, "Hey, I'm in here." Or is he trying to tell us anything at all?

Before you read the rest of this, you need to know that I love each and every person who has come to stay with my father during this time, but each and everyone of them is a strong-willed personality with their own opinions, and they don't give up easily when they think something should be a certain way. So this is in no way should be construed as a slam of any one person, but as an expression of my frustration that I am currently feeling and can't express any other way than to write it down.

The night before, my mother felt guilted (unintentionally) by well meaning relatives who wanted to stand constant vigil by his bedside, and so she stayed which is not her usuall course of action. My mom is of the mindset of "what will happen, will happen." She knew my brother would be there all night, yet somehow, she let someone get into her head. Well, who can truly sleep or get any needed rest when sitting in a hospital room hearing bells and whistles from other people's rooms. So the next morning she went home (45 min. drive) to wash and change and pick up her sister. She came back right away and the rest of the day felt sick and dizzy. When I got there, the well meaning people were all telling her, go to their hotel and take a nap. She has never been able to take a nap. It makes her sick. Then they told her she shouldn't drive herself home because she was so dizzy. That is when the disagreements started...each person in the room trying to convince her to stay at their hotel that night. Mom didn't want to for many reasons and every time she gave an objection someone would try to overcome it. Fortunately, my mom's good friend was there telling them to leave her alone. That stopped all conversation and my mother was finally given a little peace. I told my mother I would drive her home and that was basically the end of that. Or so I thought.

Mom is not one who likes to depend on others and she has her many quirks and idiosyncrasies that people just don't understand. For example, she likes her own pillow. She has a strong sense of smell and it doesn't matter if the pillow has been washed, she can smell who was there before her. She likes her own underwear. It doesn't matter if she goes to JC Penney's to buy new ones. If it wasn't a planned event, she doesn't want to wear them because they are not HERS. My mom can't sleep in certain types of hotels/motels, so even if she is exhausted, she would be wide awake all night tossing and turning, leading to another tired day the next day.

To continue...So mom went downstairs to eat dinner and the conversation starts again. I guess people thought I could talk some sense into her, but they didn't realize that I am not much different than my mother. They kept saying, if she stays at the hotel tonight she will be just down the street should something happen. She can buy new underwear. She doesn't need to be driving, and so on. I finally had to say, no. That is really hard when every person in the room is 20-30 years older than you are, but I had to do it.

Now it is morning, and I am procrastinating getting the children up and dressed and taking the little one to daycare and picking up my mother. I keep telling myself, "If I get up now, I will have 2 hours...1-1/2 hours...1 hour and 15 minutes....Man, I had better get a move on.

Well, I am posting without truly editing, so please excuse any errors you might encounter. I do know better. I just don't care.

If you have managed to put up with my ramblings to read this far you deserve a reward of recognition, so please leave a post, and I will visit your blog or website as soon as I can to thank you personally.

Thanks for listening to a slightly crazy woman today.