Thursday, September 4, 2008
My alarm is going off. I stir from sleep. Why is my alarm going off if it's still dark outside? I reach for my cell to turn the alarm off...oh, it's not the alarm. I have a call. From an unrecognizable Corpus phone number.
I answer and the person says, "This is Randy, the nurse at Bay Area Hospital."
And I know this is it. Randy (yes, the nurse shares the same name as Daddy) tells me that Daddy's levels are dropping, and I might want to come down to the hospital. I look at the time. 1:45 am. Amy has woken up beside me. I ask if I need to come, if this is the end. Randy says he can't say, but that he is definitely deteriorating.
I put on my glasses and Amy sits up. I tell her what the nurse says and she begins to get dressed to go. Amy is pregnant and has been told by her doctor that she should try to remain as calm and stress free as possible. I'm thinking that taking her with me in the middle of the night to watch my father die is probably not keeping her stress free, so I tell her she doesn't have to come.
She insists on coming with me.
We drive Daddy's truck to the hospital. As we pull into the parking lot, Randy calls again. He wants to know if I have decided to come. I tell him we are in the parking lot and will be there shortly. He is clearly happy to hear this. I now know it's over.
Turns out that since ICU is closed to visitors, they close the entrance to ICU at 9:00 pm. Amy & I run around, find another entrance, and try to make sense of the hospital hallway maze. There are no signs to ICU. Finally, we find it and run into Daddy's room. It is 2:13 am.
Daddy's eyes are glazed over. I call Royce and wake him up. I tell him this is it as Daddy's levels plummet to zero. Within two minutes of my arrival, at 2:15 am, Daddy is officially pronounced dead. I'm telling Royce, "It's over. It's over. It's over." I can't think of what else to say.
Royce tells me that he & Cynthia will drive in tomorrow morning and meet me at the funeral home. They encourage me to go back to Amy's and try to sleep.
Randy tells Amy & me that he needs to unhook the machines and do some other things and asks us to leave the room. Five minutes later, we are allowed back in. Randy has closed Daddy's eyes, unhooked all the machines. He appears to be sleeping peacefully.
I crawl into bed with Daddy while Amy texts our friends. Randy tells me the coroner will arrive in about 45 minutes to take Daddy. It's only been about 7 minutes, already Daddy is cold and hard. How can life be gone just like that?
Christine arrives at the hospital. I'm still lying with Daddy, and she slips in next to Amy.
The coroner arrives and I am given a minute alone with Daddy. He's not there, and I know it, but I still hug his cold stone body and tell him it's okay that he left. Then I left.
Amy, Christine, and I decided to go to IHOP and get pancakes at 4:00 am. Poor Christine had work in the morning, so she left after IHOP. Amy & I returned to her parents' house. We rent a movie on demand. Amy fell asleep but I watch the whole thing. At 6:00 am, the news came on. The normal news. As if everything hadn't changed.
But everything had changed.
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7 comments:
I know I don't know you very well being that we only spent a brief time together at Kari's wedding. But with the blogs and emails I feel like I know you well and find myself thinking I wish I could give you a hug...
My mother called me and said my dad had possibly a few hours left (it was a 5 1/2 hour drive) but he could hang on longer. Then he died 10 minutes later. I did not even know that until I arrived at the nursing home and found an empty room. My mom had decided not to tell me so I wouldn't be upset while driving. I still feel a little anger about this, and its been 3 years this December. I had a few trips up there in Nov. & Dec. of that year that sound strangely similar, though. Thanks for writing.
i want to tell you that your words are beautiful. but how ridiculous to say your words are beautiful as you tell such a painful, horrific story. i want to tell you that the grace with which you live your life is beautiful, but imagine you already know that. so i'll just say i am so sorry you have been forced to endure so much heartache and loss. and i am crying for you tonight, praying God will restore what has been broken and lost.
hey girl... thanks for sharing all of this. the story just breaks my heart but then i think of you now and how strong and beautiful you are. praying for you today as you process through all these memories again.
i know this has been a hard story to tell, but i think its great that you are writing it all down. and allowing yourself to grieve through this time, remembering all of the good and bad moments.
i remember my dad and i having a conversation where i told him i'd be okay if he left, and he told me that he would be okay if he left. that we didn't have to worry about each other. and we could let go. almost 12 years later it still hurts just as bad as it did that day.
i love you, peggy.
Pegs, I don't know how you're able to do this - but am so thankful you are. I wasn't able to be there with you a year ago and I'm not able to be there with you now as you remember and write, but reading it helps me understand so much more of what you're going through.
You are so brave to share such personal memories.
I love you, sweet friend.
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