This is day four of my wait in the hospital with dad one year ago before his death.  Waiting was the operative word.  Waiting, contemplating, remembering.

***

Dad as a new father

8/29/10, 5:30pm

Hello Friends,

Today was a “hurry up and wait day.” I spent the whole day at the hospital. It is Sunday and the elders at my church graciously told me to stay with my dad. So I had a little mini worship time at the bedside as dad predominantly slept. The report from Denise is that the whole church prayed earnestly for dad and me with many tears. What a church Body! Reminiscent of the compassion of Jesus in so many ways.

Dad was in more or less a holding pattern today. It did not seem the he declined significantly. But what I noticed most was his silence. He could make out very few words today. He understood me often times, I could tell it in his eyes. But words let alone sentences were just not there.

He had periods today when the pain did get intense. I could tell because he would grip his fist and often times raise his right arm from the bed. I’m thinking that his abdomen is beginning to send some pretty strong signals as the intestine continues to degrade. The proper medical term is “ischemic.” It means loss of blood flow. Part of his intestine is growing ischemic. And ultimately it could rupture, unless other vital organs shut down first.

I hope this is not gross to speak like this. I have tremendous compassion for my father, and I have shed many tears for him. But I am also realistically facing what is happening inside of his body right now. Infection is growing. And I can hear fluid building in his lungs.

Dad the fisherman in one of his favorite locations in Baja, Mexico

They upped his morphine dose today. He is now on a baseline of 2 ml/hr. In addition, I asked the doctor and got permission to have “the button.” When a wave of pain comes, I have the ability to administer an extra “hit” of morphine as I deem necessary. Again, the doctors have been so outstanding here in understanding what is needed for a person who is facing death.

I had several from church visit me today. This was welcomed. Of course, dad could not speak, but I think he recognized the support it represented to me. I am honest when I say that I could not live without the Body of Christ. I love her through and through – even with all her imperfections.

Here’s another thing – A failing body loses all hopes of vanity. Growing old is not for sissies. For a lot of years now, Dad has had to accept others who touch him, see him, aid him, feed him. Perhaps this has all been preparation for now? Of course, he is covered now, but his Body lies still waiting for death…. and then freedom.

That’s what the Bible claims. In fact, the Biblical metaphor is a “tent” (2 Cor 5:1). A flimsy tent that covers us for a number of decades. But it was never meant for permanent service. In fact, you can imagine how much an REI tent could get weathered after a few decades of service. It would be in tatters! Wind, rain, snow, and constant use – they would all take their toll.

This why the Bible claims that Christ is preparing us spiritually for a new dwelling, a new body. A spiritual body that can never become corrupted like this one. Sorry if some think I have “gone to preaching;” it is kind of in my nature.

I have gone home at night for the last four nights. I intend to do this again tonight, and then return tomorrow to do it all over again. The nurses have my cell number and plan to call me if his condition changes.

It is a very strange feeling waiting for my father to die. How can I even put this into words? He is a man I love and cherish. Yet at the same time, I’m eager for him to be delivered from this body of pain.

With hope for much more,

Brian

Now we know that if the earthly tent we live in is destroyed, we have a building from God, an eternal house in heaven, not built by human hands (2 Cor 5:1)

This is my third day of writing from the hospital one year ago.  We had just made the decision to move to “comfort measures.”  We now knew that death was imminent.  But death did not come quickly and so there were hours of sitting quietly with one another and simply drinking in the last hours together.

***

Dad in the Navy during the Korean War

8/28/10, 3:30pm

Hello Friends,

Yesterday evening, they moved him out of ICU. You move to a normal room when “comfort measures” are taken. And this does make sense since no heroic measures will be given.

In addition to the move, they also removed nearly all the monitors. Right now, he only has oxygen, a nasal tube, and a morphine drip. Yes, the pain did finally come and so he is on a slow drip of morphine. But the good news is that at times, I’m still conversing with yes and no answers.

I started the morning by giving him a shave and a face cleaning with a warm rag. He seemed to enjoy this. I had the strangest image come to mind yesterday and again today as I was cleaning him. Here I am taking the stubble from his face and the sleep from his eyes. Almost like I’m getting him ready for a big date or a special wedding. The body is winding down, yet there is the preparation for the step from one life to the next. The Bible describes it as a reunion with loved ones and a wedding with the Son of God.

At first today, he just had a vacant stare. I was not sure that he could hear me. But as the day has worn on, I have received responses and one-word answers. For instance, he has said Yes to ice water on a sponge. He has said that he was “hot,” and so we began cold compresses on the forehead. And he also said at one point that the pain was increasing. I could partially tell this from his clenched fist. With that we ordered a bit more pain meds.

I have also read to him today e-mails from his siblings. He has heard every word and even responded, “That is so nice.” A member from church came and greeted us and prayed outside the room. These were all good things.

He is running a temperature today. The surgeon yesterday said that his there was some sort of infection in his blood. They believe it is from the intestine that is becoming compromised.

I was commenting to a friend today what a durable machine God has created. Nothing short of amazing how much a body can keep fighting.

So I remain today touching him, speaking softly to him, and wanting to give as much human comfort as possible as the season of his life comes to a close.

Looking heavenward,

Brian

 Revelation 19:7-8

Let us rejoice and be glad

and give him glory!

For the wedding of the Lamb has come,

and his bride has made herself ready.

Fine linen, bright and clean,

was given her to wear.”

This is day two my writings  from the hospital one year ago.  My dad had a bowel obstruction at this point and we were uncertain about whether it could be cleared.  This is my longest writing from the entire 6 day period.  I wrote twice that day.  Both emails are below.

***

8/27/10, 10am

Hi Friends,

I arrived at the hospital this morning around 7am. Dad had a stable night with no codes. However, they had to restrain him last night because he began pulling out tubes and ivs.

He is rather confused this morning. I can’t understand much speech and we are not really communicating. But I have sat quietly in his room.

I spoke with the doctor this morning. The doctor has said that they have managed to stabilize most of his functions, like blood pressure, heart rate, and oxygen levels. However, the obstruction still exists. The bowel obstruction exists at the transition between the small and large intestines. The obstruction appears to be about four feet in length. The doctor described it as “the pig in the python.”

They are taking another x-ray this morning. Also, they are doing an enema right now at my request. The doctor feels that the obstruction is higher than the enema might normally reach, but he said for peace of mind, it was fine to do this procedure. I have actually administered enemas with him in the past (okay, maybe too much information), and they have been very effective.

Dad has clearly decided that he does not want the surgery. Therefore, if the blockage does not clear, the doctor is suggesting that we might move to “comfort measures.” This means that they would administer narcotics for the pain and remove much of the other treatments – like aggressive antibiotics, lung nebulizer treatments, etc. And if this became the case, we would be allowing his body to shut down.

I will learn more after the soap-suds enema routine. I will report more later today or this evening.

I would like one more time to converse with dad. I’m hoping that he becomes lucid enough for this. But if I don’t get this, I’m comforted that we have had a number of years recently of very good communication and close relationship. I have spoken with him about love, faith, past experiences, and so much more. And for this, I am grateful.

Thanks for your continued prayers.

In Christ,

Brian

For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord (Romans 8:38). 

8/27/10 2pm

Dad as a young boy in Missouri

Hi Friends,

Well, the enema did not succeed. It appears that the blockage is higher up and past “enema range.”

I spoke with his primary doctor again. He said that if the decision remains not to operate, it may be time to begin the comfort measures. I made that decision this morning. More about that in a moment.

For some, they may wonder why he would not immediately elect for surgery that would likely be “successful.” It is because the surgery is just the first leg in the race. He would face a number of days or weeks on a ventilator, followed by time in the hospital, and then more time in a rehab center. And then the ultimate hope would be a return to bed-rest at an adult family home. He has already run that race with his broken hip. It is not a race he chooses to run again. And of course, Parkinson’s just compounds this all tremendously.

I respect and admire his decision.

So they have now taken him off all antibiotics, nebulizers, and treatments. He is still on oxygen and has a tube down his nose into his stomach that draws out all the septic stuff. He also has available to him a morphine drip. But so far, he has very forcefully denied that drug. He says he is not in significant pain. I have reminded him that he does not get a medal for putting up with pain. But so far, I don’t think he is too uncomfortable.

Dad at work with AT&T (see mecanical switching equipment)

So here’s a funny story. I had time with him this afternoon. He was very lucid and clear of speech. In fact, he was the most cogent of all the time he has been in the hospital. I asked him if he was comfortable, he said he was hot. So we managed his bed covers a bit. Then I gave him some water on a sponge. He loved that. And then out of the blue he said, “Vanilla ice cream.” I said, “You want vanilla ice cream?” He said, “Yes!” He said that he had been asking me for two days for “vanilla ice cream,” but I was not understanding. And so I fed him vanilla ice cream with a smile and a laugh.

I also gave him a shave and cleaned his eyes with a warm towel. This has always been one of his favorite practices.

The doctor says that his blood is now going septic. In addition, his heart rate is at times erratic. All of his body systems will now work overtime trying to make up for the other problems in his body.

During our time of good conversation, I also read to him from John 14. It is one of my all-time favorite passages. Jesus has said to his disciples that he is leaving to a place where they cannot come, but they will follow later. Peter asks about this place, and Jesus responds,

“Do not let your hearts be troubled. Trust in God; trust also in me. In my Father’s house are many rooms; if it were not so, I would have told you. I am going there to prepare a place for you. And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come back and take you to be with me that you also may be where I am. You know the way to the place where I am going.”

Thomas said to him, “Lord, we don’t know where you are going, so how can we know the way?” Jesus answered, “I am the way and the truth and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me. If you really knew me, you would know my Father as well. From now on, you do know him and have seen him.” (John 14:1-3)

We spoke for a few minutes about the house of God with many rooms, and about Jesus’ invitation to all of us to join him in his Father’s loving home.

It has been a hard day but a tender one. I’m quite grateful for the opportunity to share in conversation this afternoon.

I’m also grateful to you all as my friends and extended family. No man is an island. We are all in need of the Divine touch and care shared one to another.

With Christ’s love,

Brian

In my Father’s house are many rooms ( John 14:2)