A Decison for my Dad
My dad is not enjoying life. His mind is tormenting him daily. He thinks people are trying to kill him. When a nurse puts medicine in his mouth, he thinks they are trying to choke him to death. He insists that my brother is dead and I have to get him on the phone on a daily basis so that he can hear his voice. Even then, he's not convinced it's not just a tape recording.
He tells me that people are beating him daily with a 2 X 4. That he can't complain about it or tell anyone or he will be just another dead body that is taken out of the hospital every night. He tells me all he can do is lay huddled in the floor and wait for it to be over -- and that's not a good feeling. When he hears others yell for help, he imagines the worst things have happened to them and he feels helpless not being able to go to their assistance.
He is unsure of things and he is frightened. It shows in his eyes. I hear it in his voice every day.
I know he's not getting better. The hope we had that we just needed to get his medication regulated and make sure he was taken care of daily would help him lead a normal life is gone. Long gone.
His ability to take care of himself has gone steadily downhill. He can't feed himself because his hands shake too badly. He can't go to the bathroom by himself. He can't walk without assistance. He is totally dependant on others.
The most marked difference is that he has quit laughing. My dad loved life and loved laughter. Big belly, throw back your head and laugh laughter. I can't remember the last time I even heard him chuckle. If I had known it would be the last time, I would have paid more attention to it.
We had a neurologist examine him Friday and she suspected he was having mini strokes. A CT scan that night has confirmed those suspicions. We were told his prognosis for improvement was "extremely poor."
Knowing all of this and knowing that he is being tormented by constant delusions and hallucinations is heartbreaking. But I've known my daddy long enough to know he would not want to live like this.
The man I know as my dad is gone and in his place sits a man who seems to have aged 20 years in the last 2 months. He spends his days slouched over sideways in a wheelchair, mouth hanging open and eyes glazed. The moments of joy he has in a day are few and far between. He is miserable most of the time.
I'm grieving the loss of my dad, even as he continues to live. I know he loves me and I know he knows how much I love him. The other day he looked me right in the eye and told me how he had always enjoyed the time I spent with him. That no matter what we were doing, working or playing, we had a good time doing it together. And he thanked me.
It brought to mind this comic he gave me last year that he had cut from the newspaper.
I've been very blessed to have had such a close relationship with my dad. I write this post not so much to update his condition for others, but so that if I need to, I can come back and read it later to remember why we made the decision we did. So that I wouldn't second guess myself, since I am the one who suggested it.
After discussing it with my brothers, we all agreed that dad would not want this life for himself. We have no doubt about that. Knowing that, we had his code status changed to DNR.
Do Not Resuscitate. As always, God's will be done.
