The Comfort of Holding Your Hand part 4

Now come the part in my book where my life changes to my fathers caregiver.  Only one more section after this.  I hope you enjoy it.  As always remarks are welcomed!!

Assisting My Dad and Mom

Transfiguring my Life

The Beginning of the End

Daddy was never a very healthy man and went to the doctors all of the time for his check ups. I remember it was a cool afternoon and I was at home playing with Angel when my mother called me. I had now been living in my own home.

"Could you please come over to their house, Dad and I want to talk to you before the boys get home."

"What's wrong Mom?".

"Dad and I just got home from the doctors and we want to talk to you about what is going on."

I gathered up Angel and went directly to my parents. They were sitting at the kitchen table, I looked at them and asked, "what’s wrong?"

"The doctors just told us Dad has lung cancer and he will be on oxygen and undergoing radiation treatment." My mother told me.

"How bad is it? Is everything going to be OK?"

My dad looked at me and said, "Everything is going to be fine, your not going to get rid of me that easy."

"They are going to deliver oxygen equipment today and your dad will be on oxygen all day. I would like you here when they bring it so that you will know how to work it if something should happen." My mother told me.

Did I want to cry after hearing this? Yes I sure enough wanted to but something inside of me said "don’t". Cancer in my mind was something that meant either now or later it would end his life. I could not share what I felt at this time. I knew I would eventually have to talk with some one.

I was there when the oxygen equipment was brought to the house. There were two different tanks, one compressed air and the other was done with electricity. There was also lots of tubing that came with the tanks.

That evening I called my husband, "Dad is really sick, he has cancer and needs to be on oxygen. They are going to start radiation treatments and Mom will take him, but I need to be there when he gets home." I was crying.

The man who was invincible to me for years, the man who overcame heart attacks and by-pass surgery. Now my memories were becoming overwhelming.

"Hello Mare, you there? Calm down your dad is going to be fine. He is tough and you know that."

I was so lost in though I had not realized Ricky was trying to talk to me.

"Huh?" I replied, "Oh, I know but the shock of it all. I am really scared. I am just so glad that I am here because there isn't anyone to help Mom out. To think you didn't want me to buy this house and live here. God works in mysterious ways. I am meant to be here."

"I know" he said, "Things will be OK, just do what you have to help out your mom and dad."

Over the next year Ricky and I discussed him leaving the Army. He was now stationed back in Tennessee. I wasn't going to up root my family again and I sure wasn't going to leave my parents. As much as I loved my husband, I had to put my children and my parents first. My marriage could survive this. Couldn't it? I would find out soon enough the challenges my marriage would take.

Dad started his radiation treatments and finally the cancer was in remission, but things in life made such a drastic change. With treatment came bouts of pneumonia and he was hospitalized twice.

It became clear, in the physical sense of the word, that I would be the only child in my family that could help Mom and Dad. Mom had to work and Dad did not want to be alone. I also had to understand how to use the oxygen equipment if there were an emergency.

I made the choice to be there and I was, everyday. I sometimes felt as an only child. Dad and Mom needing me to do one thing or another. I felt resentment towards my brothers and sisters at times, that they were never there to take up some of the slack so that I could get a break.

I even helped with the groceries on Saturdays. Afterward we did our lottery scratch tickets. This was time that Mum, Dad, and I shared stories of the weeks events. Our days of scratch tickets were always fun but it was more than playing lottery, it was a time of connecting. If we won on the tickets, I would run to the store and cash them in for more. We could spend all day Saturday winning, playing, having fun. I got a lot of exercise in those days, walking up and down the street to cash in our winning. But It was just the three of us, in our own little world, doing our own little thing.

My time with my family was the evenings and Sundays. While Mom was at work, I spent most of my day with Dad. Often all of us would have a good spaghetti dinner with Mom and Dad on Sunday afternoon. But there is an unexplainable reward I have for the sacrifices that I made.

There are so many events that occurred when Sam was ill that I will try to organize them in the best way that I can.

From Walking to Wheelchair

Before Dad’s radiation treatments he used a cane to help him walk with his prosthetic. But now he had lost enough weight that his prosthetic did not fit properly. Dad had "socks", which were designed to go over his stump like one would wear a sock for a shoe. He would wear extra socks for a snug fit with his prosthetic.

After being sick and then a bout of pneumonia he lost even more weight. It seemed the extra socks were not working. Dad tried to walk with crutches or a walker and continue to wear his prosthetic. He did not like to go out in public without wearing it. Early on he was still able to get out, drive his car and would run errands. Dad did not like confinement and did his best to walk with his crutches. He did his physical therapy every day and he was determined to build up his muscle so he could have his prosthetic refitted and walk without assistance again.

Finally it came to the point that no matter how much therapy he did or how many socks he used his prosthetic would not fit. He was restricted to using his crutches or his wheelchair. After he had fought so hard with his rehabilitation, he stopped. It seemed like over night and not at all to my surprise that it was over. His

rehabilitation, his physical therapy, it was done. He just used his crutches or the wheelchair. He put his prosthetic away.

I don’t remember how I felt or if I just put it aside because it finally happened or what. He just one day stopped using his crutches and depended on the wheelchair. Maybe our little talks helped me to prepare for this day and the fact that this man may have his mental strength but slowly losing his physical strength. I don't know but the fact he no longer did physical therapy was never questioned.

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The Family Reunion

As always Mom’s family had their annual family reunion. Dad looked so meek in his wheel chair. On a warm summer day he had his blanket and a jacket on, yet he still had a chill. No one had seen Dad since before his radiation treatments started. Uncles and cousins were on hand to help Mum and me wheel Dad up the hill to the pavilion. My family would approach me with remarks and questions.

"Should he be out here, he doesn't look very well?" One would comment.

"He is fine, you know Sam, he won’t complain even if things were at his worse".

"He looks so weak, are you sure he is OK?" Another would say.

"Hey, Dad is tougher than you think. Look at all he has gone through in his life. He is fine, he is a fighter. Just treat him like Sam. Being afraid to say something to him will make him feel bad. Just look at him like you always have, ‘the pain in the butt old fart’".

Dad seemed to enjoy his day at the park watching the kids having fun and chit chatting with the relatives. As the day went on Dad became tired and he and Mom

left the festivities early. Again there was help to wheel down back down the hill to the car for his journey home.

I have a picture of Mom and Dad at this reunion; I look at it frequently. I never realized how frail he was. It was his last summer, did he know this? He did what ever he could to get out and enjoy the fresh air. I do remember him enjoying the time he spent with the family and being as robust as he could.

Help at Last?

Ricky came home from the military on August 1, 1998. This is where our marriage, my courage, and faith were to be put to the ultimate test. After eleven years of a marriage that was kept us apart ninety percent of the time due to active duty Army, we were finally going to be a family.

My devotion to my parents seemed to have put a damper on our plans as a family. I was the only child around that could help Mom and Dad and I thought that Ricky understood this.

"I want my family more than I want the military." Ricky would tell me often.

I thought he understood how much my parents needed my help. He always seemed to be OK when it came to me helping them as much as I did. But unaware to me, my marriage was going into a completely different direction than I could ever anticipate. The more I was gone, the more freedom he had. To me taking care of Dad was urgent. It was my children, my dad and mom, my marriage and then me. I was oblivious to my future and still depended on my husband for reassurance and guidance. He offered it; at least I thought he did.

One day I told Ricky, "I would like to have a party next year for my mom and dad’s Twenty-Fifth Wedding Anniversary."

"Whose gonna pay for it?" He asked, money always being an issue for him.

"I will ask my brothers and sisters to help pitch in. I don't want anything big, just Mom’s family and Dad’s brothers and sisters and all of us kids and grandkids".

"Well OK, we will have to figure out how we are going to do this." He answered.

We had little under a year to plan for this wonderful celebration, as they were just celebrated their twenty-fourth anniversary that week.

There’s a Parade

So we Wheeled Him up the Street

In August there was always the time for the annual fireman's fair and parade. We wanted to take Dad up the street to see the parade.

"OK now how are we going to do this, we gotta get the wheel chair down the steps." I told Dad.

"Where is Ricky? Honey, would you come help us? We gotta get Dad up the street for the parade."

"I’m coming; we’ll get him there." Ricky replied.

With my husband holding him we slowly dropped Dad one step at a time down to the sidewalk.

"Don't drop me! Don't drop me!" Sam hollered.

"We won't, would you just shut up and let us do this? Keep it up and you won’t see a parade today." I hollered back.

Dad was in control because he had the mouth to do it. As long as he barked out orders he was in charge.

"Watch it, slow down, what the hell are you doing?" Dad complained the whole way up the street. "I want right over there so I can see what is coming. Get out of my way, I can’t see."

When Dad complained we knew he was doing well. And complain away he did.

As the local congressman came by in the convertible he saw Dad sitting there. Everyone seemed to know Dad, so it was not unusual for Congressman Williams to say hello.

"How you doing Sam?" He yelled from the car.

"Just great Bill, keep up the good work." My dad hollered back with a wave.

There were some horses in this parade and they left a gift right in my dad’s view.

"Jeeper’s sakes, they had to shit right in front of me!"

It wasn't even a thought to me that this just might be the last parade my dad would enjoy.

The Phone Doesn't Work.

Many times my dad would call me for the oddest things during the day. I would receive a phone call just for the craziest things. This was his way of keeping in touch and not be alone at the house. One morning he called and said "I need you to come over at the house right away."

"What’s wrong Dad?" I asked.

"The phone isn’t working right. Just get over here and see what’s wrong!" Dad was really irritated.

"But Dad, you’re calling me on the phone." I replied, "there can’t be anything wrong with it."

Anger came from the phone, "just get over here now!" He demanded.

I went over to his house only to find my dad sitting on the floor; he had little strength to get himself to the lazy-boy from the sofa.

I looked down at this man and said "What l am I suppose to do? I can’t lift you up by myself; I have to call Ricky."

I called my husband in shear laughter asking him to come and help. After explaining the story he hurried over with the same expression.

When he arrived he did all he could holding back the laughter he asked, "what is going on here? You said there was something wrong with your phone and now your butt is just sitting on the floor?"

"Just get me off the flippen floor, jeepers cripes. I didn't ask for a show!" Dad at this point was really getting frustrated.

It was then the family joke as the commercial said "I’ve fallen and can’t get up."

All of us were so amused that he used the phone excuse to get help and not lower himself to say he was not strong enough to get off the floor.

The Storm

One day a severe rainstorm came in fast and furious. It left just as quickly as it began. The electricity had already gone out at my house from the storm. I knew I had to get to Dad and change the oxygen tanks over from the electric to the compressed.

"Hurry up kids we gotta get to Pappy."

I tried to get there before the storm shut off the electricity or the phone at his house.

While driving over a tree fell on the road as we turned the corner.

"Did you see that kids?"

It was frightening. Had I’d been driving any faster the tree would have hit us. Now we had to go the long way around to get to Dad. By the time I got to the house Dad was standing at his oxygen tank panicking about how to turn it on. He was very confused on how he should hook up the hose to the compressed air and turn it on. Sam had soiled himself and was upset and embarrassed over it.

"Where were you? What took you so long to get here?" Before I could even try to explain the tree and the water he hollered "what the hell am I supposed to do? How do you work this damn thing? Tell the kids to stay outside I messed myself."

I got the oxygen hooked up, and I helped Dad clean himself up. My three children were there and my dad was really embarrassed. As I was cleaning the carpet he kept repeating his embarrassment to me.

"I can’t believe this, look at that mess. Keep the kids out of here until you get it cleaned." He kept hollering.

The first thing that came out of my mouth was "Hey Dad, shit happens, and no pun intended. Don’t worry about the kids, they understand".

Dad said "I tried to call you, but the phone would not work."

The next was a big surprise to me when he asked "why doesn't my phone work? I had to go into the kitchen to try and call you."

I tried to explain to him "Dad a cordless phone does not work if the electricity goes out."

"Why not, what's the sense of having a phone you can’t use if the electricity is out. Isn't it hooked up to the phone line?"

As much as I tried to explain to him, how a cordless phone works, I do not think he really understood this. I then went and bought him a phone that he could depend on.

"Dad here is a new phone for you. Don't use that cordless, if anything happens this phone will work and I am gonna get rid of this one." I said to him, walking away with the cordless phone.

His response was not surprising, "what for?"

Mom’s Cry for Help

It was around three o’clock when I received the phone call. Dad had been in the hospital for a week with pneumonia, Mom was planning to bring him home. She called to tell me that his cardiologist had never made his rounds after saying he would release Dad. She had everything ready for Dad on his return home.

Mom was crying, near hysteria telling me this. I had never heard my mother like this before and I had to do something. I asked her to get me the number to the cardiologist office and I would take care of the situation. Through her tears she gave me the number and I called them.

When I called the office, I questioned the bedside manner of this doctor. The secretary asked who I was. I explained that I was his daughter and if she looked in my fathers records she would see I am listed as second in his next of kin. I then asked why this cardiologist never sent another doctor in his place if he could not make his rounds to all his patients. I began to feel sorry for the secretary because I was very irate. All I heard in my mind were my mothers cry and I had to get a point across. I had to do something to help my mom and dad.

After hearing many excuses, I put my foot down. I told the poor secretary that if my mother did not receive a phone call with a resolution to this problem in ten minutes then she would continue to receive a phone call from me every ten minutes until it was resolved. Ten minutes later my mother called to say another doctor came in and signed the release forms for my dad to come home.

A week later I took Dad for a checkup at his primary care physician and I demanded that he get Dad a new cardiologist. I explained what had happened and with that, a recommendation and phone calls were made, Dad had a new doctor.

Taking care of Dad was also helping out Mom and sometimes it was taking care of Mom.

Dad Gets Sicker

Dad developed pneumonia a second time. After being in the hospital, he was transferred to a nursing home some time late in October 1998. He tried so hard for rehabilitation to help him. He was very weak and wanted to have a life as he had normally. He really tried to build his physical stamina so he could come home. This is where I found my new prowess to thrive in every phase of my life.

Some patients at the nursing home never had visitor. The nurses, staff and Dad would be their only conversation. Everyone loved when Sam’s little Angel came to visit. As most children did, Angel had a very positive impact on the patients. Bringing up their spirits after seeing a small child was recompense of wonders for the sick and elderly.

Dinner with Dad

We had Thanksgiving dinner at the rehabilitation center that year. It was my family, as I knew it then. My dad, mom, husband and three children. Such wonderful memories of what I didn't know then would be our last Thanksgiving together. I know we laughed, drank wine, spilled wine and just acted as though the world would never end.

I know we brought laughter to the others with whom the ambiance we shared. But looking back I remember nothing. It's all a blank. A day I should remember but in detail have forgotten.

Could it be that Thanksgiving was always a painful reminder to me of death I just blanked it out? Only twenty-five years earlier my father passed shortly after Thanksgiving. Was this a reminder I wanted to protect myself of, both fathers having Thanksgiving celebration in a hospital? Thanksgiving for what they had in the past. No more future and no more Thanksgivings to come. Was it a sign then? A sign of what is to come in the future?

I called my mom that night. "Mom, I want to do something special for you and Dad for your twenty-fifth wedding anniversary. Do you think we can do it in February since he is so weak? I mean even if it just immediate family and we have a brunch at your house?"

Mom could only say "I don’t know if Dad would be up to that, let’s just play it by ear and see what happens."

Our Last Christmas Together

Dad came home from the rehabilitation center on December 18, 1998. Just in time to prepare and celebrate Christmas. It was a wonderful time for us. Between Mom, my husband and I, the house was rearranged to accommodate Dad. It was home. The living room became Mom and Dad’s bedroom. The dining room became the new living room. I did a lot of work drilling holes, hooking up phones and cable to provide for the newly arranged home. I was there every day with my dad, fixing him lunch and keeping him company while my mother was at work.

When Christmas came, my children and I went over Christmas Eve to exchange gifts. Angel picked out a stuffed hound dog for her Pappy to keep him company when no one was there.

She gave him his gift "Open it up Pappap, its a dog", she yelled.

Dad said, "Let me open it before you tell me what it is!"

She helped him tear open the gift and yelled "see its a dog."

He named his dog Buckeye.

We gave Mom her gift; it was in a large box. All she knew was that it was a movie.

"I know what this is." She said.

Angel said "it’s a movie!".

My mom thinking it was

was more than surprised when she opened up one of her favorite movies.

"It’s

, this is my favorite!"

Daddy’s Little Angel

Angel who was three at the time, was one of Sam's major source of joy. Mom and Dad had an older grandson who was thirteen and two older grand-

daughters who were nine. Imagine if you can then, six boys born in less than two years. My sisters-in-law and I had three boys within six months of each other by December 1988. My sisters and I then had three more boys within nine months of each other, who were born by May of 1990. That is six boys in twenty-three months. Angel would the first granddaughter to be born in over nine years. I was living with Dad and Mom while I was pregnant with her. Dad always said to me while I was pregnant, "That is my baby, I am just letting you have it."

My dad had never lived with a pregnant woman. My time living with Mom and Dad opened his eyes to a new experience. He would take me to my OB visits and could not believe the video that Ricky and I brought home from the doctors of our Angel in my womb. He had seen ultra-sound pictures but never a video and he was truly amazed.

"Hey Dad, how come you had me do all that work when I was pregnant?" I would ask.

"I just wanted to see what a pregnant woman could do." He would reply.

"Oh yeah, tell my doctors that." I smirked back at him.

All That Change

On one visit, dad was very antsy. He had me run to the store and get money wrappers. Before I went to the store I asked what money he wanted me to wrap. Dad had me go around the house collect his prize "Tootsie Roll" bank and all the other jar and bottles he had stored all his loose change in.

Now I knew how much this change meant to him. As a child I would take a quarter or two and run up to the store and get a few apples with it. He always knew when money was missing from his jar. He would just very sternly say, "stay out of my jars, there is money missing." How he knew I would never understand but he did.

So now here he is asking me to collect up and roll all of his money. He wanted all his "finances" in order so mom wouldn't go broke when he died. I spent days with my daughter sorting the money into piles and using a tool to pack the money into sleeves. It was monotonous work, but I finally did it.

The money was so heavy we needed to put it into two backpacks to carry all of it. I made two trips to the bank from the car to carry this load. Every roll had a

label on it with his name and phone number. That was just in case it came up short. The final tally was over $600. I did not forget to give him his receipt. Dad had one thing he always wanted his receipt and his change. No change here but one hefty receipt.

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