The End is Near
Yes, yes I know I haven't posted in so long that only the terminally bored even check in here anymore. Sorry about that, and I have every intention of doing better at posting here.
"The End is Near" refers to the fact that my father has left our family home for the last time. He'll probably be dead before my birthday, August 31. He's 76, and his cancer has metastasized into his brain. Few people survive metastasized brain cancer, and he doesn't look to be one of them.
The biggest issue for Dad is that he doesn't want to live anymore. Mom died a little over four years ago, and since then he has buried a son and a daughter. The final straw was losing his long-time AA sponsor a little over a year ago. That all has weighed on him. With each death his depression got worse, yet he wouldn't do any grief counseling or seek any professional help. Dad's always been deeply suspicious of medical professionals, and he's always thought psychiatry/psychology were nonsense.
So, as far as I know, AA was the only counseling he had, and I don't know how well they do grief work. Their focus is elsewhere. But it was the organization, or group of people, he trusted with whatever guidance he felt he needed.
Not that I believe any of that would have made much difference. Dad was a long-time cigarette smoker: 61 years until his lung cancer was diagnosed when he quit cold. That said, I believe we live as long as we live, and then we die. I've known people who lived much healthier lifestyles than Dad who died younger from cancer. There are no guarantees.
As for myself, I'll be happy for him when it's over. His mind is going. He can't walk unassisted or very far. He gets easily confused. He can't enjoy most of the pleasures he's had in life (not counting booze or tobacco): he can't watch television; it's too chaotic for him, and he can't do his beloved crossword puzzles.
Now he sits and stares. Sometimes he can be engaged in conversation, but increasingly he has no interest in it. He wants to sleep. He's ready to die, and the only thing he seems to fear is that it may be painful or embarrassing. (I've already had to wipe his ass. What can be more embarrassing?)
My sister and brother who live in town are seeing to his needs. He's about to become a hospice patient, which is what he wants and deserves: a death with as much dignity as we can muster. I visit when I can or when he or they need me there. God willing, I will be there at the end to say a final goodbye to the man who gave me life.
I suspect that Dad's death is gonna be my topic for awhile.
"The End is Near" refers to the fact that my father has left our family home for the last time. He'll probably be dead before my birthday, August 31. He's 76, and his cancer has metastasized into his brain. Few people survive metastasized brain cancer, and he doesn't look to be one of them.
The biggest issue for Dad is that he doesn't want to live anymore. Mom died a little over four years ago, and since then he has buried a son and a daughter. The final straw was losing his long-time AA sponsor a little over a year ago. That all has weighed on him. With each death his depression got worse, yet he wouldn't do any grief counseling or seek any professional help. Dad's always been deeply suspicious of medical professionals, and he's always thought psychiatry/psychology were nonsense.
So, as far as I know, AA was the only counseling he had, and I don't know how well they do grief work. Their focus is elsewhere. But it was the organization, or group of people, he trusted with whatever guidance he felt he needed.
Not that I believe any of that would have made much difference. Dad was a long-time cigarette smoker: 61 years until his lung cancer was diagnosed when he quit cold. That said, I believe we live as long as we live, and then we die. I've known people who lived much healthier lifestyles than Dad who died younger from cancer. There are no guarantees.
As for myself, I'll be happy for him when it's over. His mind is going. He can't walk unassisted or very far. He gets easily confused. He can't enjoy most of the pleasures he's had in life (not counting booze or tobacco): he can't watch television; it's too chaotic for him, and he can't do his beloved crossword puzzles.
Now he sits and stares. Sometimes he can be engaged in conversation, but increasingly he has no interest in it. He wants to sleep. He's ready to die, and the only thing he seems to fear is that it may be painful or embarrassing. (I've already had to wipe his ass. What can be more embarrassing?)
My sister and brother who live in town are seeing to his needs. He's about to become a hospice patient, which is what he wants and deserves: a death with as much dignity as we can muster. I visit when I can or when he or they need me there. God willing, I will be there at the end to say a final goodbye to the man who gave me life.
I suspect that Dad's death is gonna be my topic for awhile.
posted by Tom | 1:40 PM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home