Dad had begun losing is ability to swallow due to the cancer in his esophagus and confided this with Tommy and Danny. He didn't say much to anyone else until the expected verdict came in from an oncologist about November of 2007. His friend Danny had received a similar diagnosis for another form of the dreaded disease and both had their options outlined to them. They took counsel from each other and both arrived at the conclusion that they would rather go on their own terms than racked with the pain and indignities the treatment regimens would impose. Dad asked my brother and me to meet with him and he outlined what was going on and his plans to live his life on his terms for whatever time he had left. We agreed with him and discussed what he wanted to do about telling others and the arrangements for his inevitable passing. We made arrangements for his cremation and the memorial ceremony and we encouraged him to do whatever he wanted to do for as long as he was able. He continued working through December of 2008 and played cards every Thursday until January 11, 2009 when his health became too compromised to continue. On January 1st I moved in with dad to assist him in his lonely journey.
I had begun visiting my father in late November 2008 to watch the Buffalo Sabres play hockey on television and we watched every game together until March the 17th of 2009. He had begun using a cane to get around which he had refused prior because it made him look old. He was rather vain and had a full head of beautiful white hair that he cared for like it was gold. His vanity lives on through me and I have a great head of brown hair due good genes and an assist from my hair stylist/dye specialist which dad never quite understood. That cane became a symbol of his degeneration. He went from cane to walker to wheelchair to Hospice over the course of 10 weeks. His refusal to succumb without a fight to each level of degeneration filled me with pride in him and a little shame in myself as I don't find that kind of courage so close to the surface in myself. I have been forever changed by his example.
I need to take a side bar here to say a word about Hospice and their people. Gretchen the Great is a beautiful young blond woman, competent in every way. Especially in her ability to handle dad. If Gretchen said it ... it was law. Dad was easily influenced by beautiful women, and the combination of her beauty and knowledge placed her in revered status. I would make informed observations about dad's condition and he would argue with me and tell me I wasn't a doctor. Gretchen would more or less make the same observation and you would think he was hearing it for the first time. She certainly had his attention and his best interest in her heart. I am forever grateful to her and that organization. Hospice has a view of death and dying not easily accepted by mainstream professionals. Without their assistance I could never provide the kind of care dad required. They made the transition to the next life as smooth as possible. They provided doctors, medicine, equipment and emotional support that I could never have done without quitting my job and devoting every waking moment to his care.
People mean well but often put their own needs above those of a dying loved one. No one wants them to go and they try all kinds of motivational tactics to rouse the the patient from their lethargy. My dear departed sister insisted on physical exercise to work him back into shape. She was hurt when she was told "let me die in peace". She really wanted him to live and the inevitability of his passing was too much for her to acknowledge and accept. Most people spend their time with the departing soul telling them how much better they look and avoid the obvious discussions about their feelings and support of the person's choices. Dad and I had no problem freely discussing his passing and his view of what comes next. He was ready and able to go and just needed someone to be there with him. I had that privilege. Just before he passed I had a birthday, 39 again I think, on March 13th. He encouraged me to go out with my friends that night and I really didn't want to. Wednesday the 11th we spoke of birthdays and he told me he had hoped to make it to his birthday in October. I told him he was real short and I was hoping he would make it to mine on Friday. He gave me that look out of the side of his eyes that acknowledged the pending outcome and told me he was glad for the truth.
I went out for my birthday, leaving dad in the care of my brother. I set up the medicines and left for a few hours. Upon my return about 1 AM my brother was visibly shaken by the decline in my father in those few hours and he felt dad belonged in a hospital. We waited for dad to finish in the bathroom and together spoke to him about this. He told us he wanted to be at home and I agreed with him. Throughout that night dad was restless and dreaming out loud. He was speaking to his parents as if they were in the room, he recited his cyphers for some Sister Mary something or other, and he began undressing to go swimming in the pond. When I told him we didn't have a pond he sat back down and fell asleep. We both slept in the living room in recliner chairs and I awoke with him staring at me with very sad eyes. He stated/asked if he really did belong in a hospital and I told him yes. He asked me if I could make that happen and I told him I could. I then called Hospice and they assisted making all the arrangements necessary to bring him to their facility in Cheektowaga, NY. As we waited for the ambulance, dad had to go to the bathroom at home for the final time. As I placed him in the chair I saw the ambulance pull up and was wondering how I was going to handle all the conflicting responsibilities of the moment.
I got dad to the bathroom and situated and then answered the door for the EMT's. They set up the gurney in the living room and I assisted dad from the bathroom for the final time. The hall is narrow so I had to pull him backwards toward the living room and he could not see the attendants waiting there. When we were able to turn the chair he noticed that one of the attendants was another beautiful blond woman, like his Gretchen, and he started flirting with her and running his hands through his hair to improve his appearance. I called him on it saying, "you're dying for Chrissake." He said "I ain't dead yet." They gently led him out of his apartment for the last time. I contacted my siblings and drove to the Hospice facility.
People came and went Saturday, Sunday, and Monday and the drama proved too much for me. I began staying in the lounge and checking on him every 1/2 hour or so. This went on until the early morning of Tuesday, March 17th. My daughter stayed overnight and I went home to get some sleep. In the night dad had his "Last Stand", a common occurrence for men of his temperament. He removed the restraints and began sitting up trying to get out of bed. My daughter frantically told him to stop and he swore at her and continued to get up. She told him that she would sit on him if he didn't cooperate and he said "all right baby" and calmed down for the last time. They called me at home and said I should hurry to the facility as he was in his last hours. I contacted my siblings and went to the facility for the last time. We stayed all day and I made my every 1/2 hour checks as I read and watched TV in the lounge. The Sabres were playing Ottawa that night at 7:35 PM and I tuned in the set to watch the game without dad for the first time since November. I went in to check on him at 7:30 PM and kissed him on the neck and whispered in his ear "If you want to watch the game on the really big screen you need to go now". As I left the room the nurses rushed in and stopped me in my tracks, dad went to watch the game at face off time, 7:35 PM on March 17th, 2009.
