My youngest brother, Scott, was waiting for me at the airport. I’d asked him not to come inside the airport. I didn’t want to burst into tears when I saw him.
I love small airports. By the time I’d used the facilities (cause God knew when I would use them again) my bag was waiting for me on the conveyor and the rest of the passengers had already left.
Scott waited for me in the truck. He even made me open the tailgate and haul my huge duffel into the box. I realized then that he was just as afraid to greet me too.
The ride to the hospital was a blur of updates, noticing changes along the way and silent pleas to get there fast. Non-existent midnight traffic helped.
I was in the intensive care unit less than half an hour after landing.
Donnie, my other brother and his fiancée were waiting for us. After a brief conversation where the boys warned me to expect Dad to look bad… to which I replied, “It can’t be any worse than I’ve imagined.”
Trust me, having a vivid imagination isn’t always a good thing.
Without going into the gruesome details, it was bad. In many ways worse than my imaginings because I saw the levels of his medication and the nurse answered many of my questions. Unfortunately I asked some intelligent questions.
An hour later my feet began to hurt. I could hardly believe I’d been there so long I challenged Daddy to get his ass out of that bed… I guess I should have been more specific as to the how he should do that. ( This is a joke, you’re allowed to laugh. You’ll understand more when you read my eulogy.)
I returned to my brothers who were waiting for me in case I needed support. I shooed Donnie and Louise home and Scott and I crashed on the couches. We’d all been up close to two days.
Fast forward – 18 hours later Dad was on 100% oxygen and meds to move his blood through his body. It was up to him the medical staff could do no more. Dad’s blood pressure dropped continuously all night.
Scott and I had the midnight vigil again. This time we stayed up all night talking while Donnie and Louise spent the night with Mom. by 9am they were back along with Dad’s two sisters who lived in Saint John. His oldest sister in Ontario couldn’t come so we had her on speaker phone to hear the doctor’s update. Dad’s brother’s health is frail, we chose not to tell him until it was over.
We had a choice. Continue the meds and let him linger for hours or stop the BP meds and let him go in minutes.
We walked into the ICU unit to make our decision when Dad’s nurse stopped Mom. “Dick has made the decision for you. His heart just stopped.”
Day 2 done. Day 3 off to the worst possible start.