My health may fail, and my spirit may grow weak, but God remains the strength of my heart; he is mine forever. Psalm 7:2-27
My sweet Daddy went home to be with the Lord on Saturday, Sep 1, 2012 at 11:10 p.m. CST.
Circumstances leading up to his death were not easy. He had facial cancer that had eroded half of his face and nose. He was in pain. He suffered. Though he did get medical treatment, he only sought wound care. He kept the wound covered - hiding it behind a mask of bandages. He never admitted to anyone in the family that he had cancer. Though he loved his family, Dad was a private person and kept to himself. And that was especially true of his health. Though we knew that he had facial cancer, he never once admitted it to us nor accepted our help. Looking back, I see that Dad did not want to be a burden and simply wanted to live independently for as long as he could. He made it clear to me on numerous occassions that he wanted to remain in his home with all of his stuff - in a town and with people he was familiar with. I can't say that I blame him. But I also now understand that he was trying to protect us from the truth of his condition and keep us from worry. I admire the quiet strength my Dad portrayed in his lengthy battle with cancer.
Even on the night he collapsed in his home, Dad still refused to leave his home. Upon seeing the seriousness of his facial wound from the cancer, his weakened physical state, and the condition of his home the paramedics quickly determined Dad was not capable of making clear decisions. So they took him to the ER anyway.
The night Dad collapsed I found out just how strong my family is. My mother was the one to discover him and called 911. Though they had divorced years ago, she still looked out for him. She had been checking on him for several days and was the first to see his massive wound uncovered just days before. My being 200 miles away made it difficult to know just how bad it was so I trusted her to keep me posted and call for help when the time came. The night Dad collapsed I wanted to leave for the hospital immediately. But my wise husband knew it would be best to wait until morning with a hurricane headed our way. I felt like a caged animal. I just had to get to my Dad! So I did what I had been doing for my Dad for years...I prayed without ceasing. That whole night I prayed!
The night Dad collapsed I also found out just how strong I can be. Upon arrival in the ER, Dad was immediately evaluated and moved promptly to NICU. At 1 a.m. I recieved a call from his NICU doctor informing me of his condition and, as the first born child of an unmarried man, I was told that I was his power of attorney and health advocate. In other words, all medical and other decisions for my Dad fell squarely on me. The doctor discussed all of the tests that were being run, seemed to be hopeful, and even had scheduled a plastic surgeon to look at Dad. Under the circumstances this was not an easy burden to bear. So again I prayed! That whole night I prayed!
My husband, Scott, and I left before dawn the next morning. Though our area had been one of the projected paths of the hurricane, it had moved further west leaving us in the outer bands. We drove through the heavy rains and made it to Tallahassee Memorial hospital almost 200 miles away by 9 a.m. that morning. I kept mulling over in my mind my discussion with the doctor the night before. I became hopeful...it could just be an infection. And if they are calling in a plastic surgeon, there might be hope after all!
But upon arrival, we were immediately greated by several NICU nurses and a social worker. Their expressions were very concerning. They ushered us quickly into a small, private room and prepared us for what we were about to see. They ask me about Dad's medical history and everthing that had lead up to this point. Then they explained that he had a serious staph infection so we'd have to suit up to see him.
As we suited up outside of Dad's ICU room, I could see a team of doctor's swarming around his bed. As they came out of the room, we were introduced by the nurses. When they discovered I was the oldest child, they began to discuss all that was being done for him. Then they brought up the "C" word. Though the biopsy results had not come back yet, they were certain that it was. The doctors were very nice, compassionate, and again tried to prepare us for what we were about to see.
After signing a bunch of paperwork, I was finally able to see my Dad. As I stepped into the room, the first thing I notice is how much Dad looked like his father. He always had a striking resemblance to Granddaddy and I couldn't help but think at that moment he looked even more so. Dad was laying there unconscious from pain meds and a sedative. The right side of his face loosely covered by white gauze bandages. Though mostly covered, I could plainly see that his nose was mostly eroded by the cancer. He was incredibly thin and his face gaunt. His condition far worse than when I had seen him just weeks earlier. My poor, sweet Daddy - once an incredibly handsome man so full of life, hope, and dreams - lay there in such a terrible state. My heart ached! How I longed to be able to just wish this all away and he be healthy again!
I stayed by my Dad's bedside that whole day...only leaving to eat once and meet my family when they arrived. I stood by Dad's side, holding his hand, rubbing his arm, and stroking his hair. I talked softly to him, telling him what the kids were up to and reminiscing about the past. He would open his eyes every now and then, sometimes he'd respond with a yes or no, other times squeezing my hand to respond to a question. On one occassion, upon my entering the room and greeting him with "Hey Daddy!", he opened his eyes, smiled the best he could, and uttered, "Hey Darling!" Sometimes he would lift his arms up, like he used to do when he'd direct the band. And as I stood there, every now and then I would build up the courage to look under that gauze covering just a little more - not out of morbid curiousity but out of sheer determination to face the cancer that would rob me of my Dad. I wanted to understand as best I could exactly what he was experiencing - his pain and suffering. So when the nurse came in that afternoon to clean his wound and change his gauze covering, I stood and watched without flinching. After all, this was my Daddy - regardless of what he looked like I loved him. I can't imagine how he was able to live for so long with the damage I saw. It was worse than any horror or war movie...Skin completely gone. His face was a mangled mess. You could see his facial muscles. Nothing but cartlige for most of his nose. But I was determined to be there for him and was surprised that I had the stamina to endure such a heartwrenching site. I can only say that God gave me the strength I needed to endure as my heart broke for my Daddy. Oh how I wished I could make him better!
That night, my husband and I left the hospital at 9 p.m. We could have stayed with Dad with special permission, but again, my husband's wisdom prevailed. We needed rest. We stayed at a nearby hotel that night and oh how glad I am that we did. For little did I know events would drastically change by the next morning and rest would be fleeting.
We were at the hospital early the next morning. Before going in to see Dad, I asked to speak with the social worker. The biopsy results were back and it was cancer, to no one's surprise. He was also diagnosed with severe emphazema and we were told would need a trachaeotomy as well as a feeding tube. We had been asked to make a decision about Dad - whether to persue removal of the cancer, plastic surgery , and radiation treatment that would most likely leave him bedridden, unable to eat on his own, speak, or even see - OR- hospice care. As his health advocate and power of attorney, I was the one who had to officially make the call. The full weight of my responsibility was almost overwhelming, but somehow I had the strength to carry it out. I spoke to each of my siblings and discussed with each of them at length Dad's condition and his options. I was not going to make the call for Hospice Care unless every one of us were in agreement. I wanted us all to have peace in our hearts from this decision. I know that God was with each of us as we each wrestled with this decision. The decision was unanimous - we all knew that Dad wouldn't want the surgery and treatment. We chose Hospice for him.
I gave the Social Worker our decision that morning with the special request that he be placed in a Hospice Facility near my home. We were told Dad had several weeks to several months to live. I knew that I could best care for him if he were near me. A Covenant Hospice Social Worker arrived and took care of the paperwork. She informed me that she would start making calls but there was no guarantee that there would be a spot for him in Pensacola. Within minutes she returned, informing me that not only did they have a spot for him, but also transportation! She further indicated that this was the quickest placement that she had ever seen! But I knew it was God, who works things out for the good of those who love Him! You see, the palliative care doctor, Dr Sheedy, had visited with me the afternoon before and again that morning. He was a Christian man, a godly man who offered comfort to me in the decision making process. I discovered later that Dr. Sheedy was also good friends with THE Director over all of Covenant Hospice and it was Dr. Sheedy who pulled the strings to get Dad in to Hospice in Pensacola so quickly. I find it so amazing how God puts the right people at the right place at just the right time! He was answering my prayers for my Daddy!
Dad was transported to Pensacola that very night. I stayed behind in the Tallahassee area, planning to return to the hospital the next day to finish up Dad's business with the hospital and medicaid. Since I was still in Tallahassee, my husband returned home and take care of Dad's admission papers upon arrival at Hospice. Upon Dad's arrival, the nurse took Scott aside and informed him that my Dad only had days to live. She didn't think he'd live past Saturday. Scott immediately called me that night with the news. Again, I felt like a caged animal helpless to get home as Scott had left with my car and I was relying on my Mom to get me back. We knew we had to leave that night. We called my sister in Colorado to inform her of Dad's sudden down turn. After booking her on an immediate flight home and quickly dressing - and stocking up on caffeine - we loaded up and took off. By 2 a.m., we were on the road with my Mom, brother, and his fiance. I drove through the night, arriving home at around 6 a.m. While everyone rested, I showered and ate a small breakfast before I headed straight for Hospice.
When I arrived at Hospice, a very sweet nurse showed me to Dad's room. It was beautiful! It didn't look or smell like any hospice or hospital facility I'd ever been in. The room had been decorated with finely appointed furnishings with doors overlooking a Japanese zen garden. I cried. For so long I had prayed for Dad to come live with us. He always refused. I had been so worried about his ability to care for himself and his home. He had not been able to keep his house clean due to his health and refused to let anyone in to help. (In fact, he wouldn't hardly let anyone in period.) My biggest fear was him dying alone in a mess. I was so thankful that God heard my prayers - that my Dad would spend his last days in such a beautiful place and would not die alone. God was working things out for my Daddy! God is so good!
I stayed with my Dad from that point on. I never left hospice and rarely left his side unless it was necessary to talk with a doctor, social worker, or call to make final arrangements. Once my sister arrived, we both stayed with our Dad from that point on.
Dad's time in Hospice was sweet and memorable. He was surrounded by his loved ones. My church family and my mother-in-law would bring meals to Hospice for the family. God was wonderful. We sat around Dad's rooms telling stories and reminiscing about the past. Dad's room was filled with love and laughter. There wasn't a bit of heaviness like you would expect in such circumstances. Everyone had an opportunity to say their goodbyes to Dad. Our brother Joey, who was in truck driving school, called and got to speak to Dad as did our son Mathew who was just deployed to the Middle East. But by Saturday, it became evident, however, that Dad was struggling to hang on. My husband took me aside and whispered to me that we needed to give Dad the okay to go. My sweet Aunt, Dad's sister, who had been standing across the room came over to me, hugged me and whispered in my ear, "You need to tell your Daddy that you all will be okay. He's hanging on for you all. You need to give him permission to go home, sweetheart." I knew without a doubt God's Holy Spirit was speaking through them. It was no coincidence. The room cleared out, leaving my Aunt, my sister, my brother, and myself. We held hands and laid our hands on Daddy. Each of us expressed our love for him and thanked him for being a wonderful father and brother. Together, we gave Daddy our blessings and the okay to go home. I led our family in prayer for my Daddy as we stood there. This was his last afternoon on this earth.
Dad's last day was a struggle for him. We prayed that he not be in any more pain - he had already suffered enough. God heard our prayer and was merciful!
On Saturday, Sep 1, 2012 at 11:10 p.m., my sweet Daddy went home to heaven. Being a private person, I believe he waited until it was just him and his baby girls in his room before he left this earth. (I think he figured out we were as stubborn as he was and that we weren't going to leave him alone;) As my sister and I stood beside him, each of us holding his hand, Dad's breathing became even more labored and intense - ever further apart. His pulse weakened and slowed. We intently watched the pulse in his neck and listened for his breath. A nurse just happened to come in, took one look at Dad and told us it would be very soon. She didn't have to tell us, we already knew. As I stood watching, Dad gasped his last breath, released it, and his face relaxed. I knew he was gone. My sister and I stood together sobbing, still holding his hands, and sharing our grief. We put our hands on his chest, wanting to feel his warmth for as long as it would last. To us, his warmth made us feel he was there with us for just a little longer anyway. Our brother arrived within moments after Dad's passing.
Despite Dad's suffering and pain over the last several years, his passing had an unforgettable sweetness about it. It is an experience I will never forget as long as I live.
I can honestly say I have stared death in the face and was not afraid. Sad, yes. Heartbroken, yes. But afraid, no. Why? Because I witnessed how lovingly my Heavenly Father called my earthly Father home. God did not abandon my Dad as he faced death. God was with my Dad and was with us. I am a much stronger person because of this experience. I inherited this strength from my Fathers - both my Daddy and my Heavenly Father have blessed me with this gift of strength. This strength is the legacy of my Father.
The things of this world do not frighten me anymore. I have found out through this experience I am tougher than I ever thought and that I can handle so much more than I or others give me credit for. My strength comes from above...and even if my health fails and my spirit may grow weak...GOD is my STRENGTH!!! His strength never fails.
Though I am weak, in Christ I am strong!
In His Love, Cathy
