Well, it has been a week since Dad passed.
I won't bore you with the details, but he was diagnosed with cancer on July 4 and elected not to seek treatment. Doctors told him it would give him five years of extra time. What they didn't tell him was the procedure would have called for a lenghty and painful recovery, much of which would be in the hospital.
He was sent home, put on medication for pain. Hospice nurse came to see him regularly the past few weeks. Only in the week leading up to his death did he really go downhill, and when he did, he did quickly.
There's nothing that'll put a kink in the macho front you're trying to put up like picking your father up off of the bathroom floor.
My uncle (a doctor) came in the day he died and told my mom that it'd be much sooner than they expected. I came home from work at 9 p.m. sat with him, my mom and my sister came upstairs and by 9:45 he had taken his last breath. He was unresponsive to most of our words for the day or two leading up to his death, but he looked up at my sister, looked at me, looked at my mom, and let go.
Funeral was Wednesday. Private service. Full Marine honors. Bugle and taps, folder flag.
And now life begins again.
I won't bore you with the details, but he was diagnosed with cancer on July 4 and elected not to seek treatment. Doctors told him it would give him five years of extra time. What they didn't tell him was the procedure would have called for a lenghty and painful recovery, much of which would be in the hospital.
He was sent home, put on medication for pain. Hospice nurse came to see him regularly the past few weeks. Only in the week leading up to his death did he really go downhill, and when he did, he did quickly.
There's nothing that'll put a kink in the macho front you're trying to put up like picking your father up off of the bathroom floor.
My uncle (a doctor) came in the day he died and told my mom that it'd be much sooner than they expected. I came home from work at 9 p.m. sat with him, my mom and my sister came upstairs and by 9:45 he had taken his last breath. He was unresponsive to most of our words for the day or two leading up to his death, but he looked up at my sister, looked at me, looked at my mom, and let go.
Funeral was Wednesday. Private service. Full Marine honors. Bugle and taps, folder flag.
And now life begins again.
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I came to tell you I liked your username, but perhaps that is superfluous now.