This morning's news reported how
optimism helps prolong our lives. My father was definitely a good example. He
had a special knack for seeing the bright side. When his beloved cat died, he
told me that he now was spending more time with his human friends. (You'll find
pictures of him and Kitty at the link below for "Storyportrait. ")
Dad's life and his death were equally positive. He lived each day to the
fullest and died according to his wishes. We should all be so blessed.
My father, Gaston, died on February
25th at the ripe old age of 96 1/2 years (the half year was important to him!)
He lived his passions, had the talent and good fortune to make a good living as
an artist. Days before his death he danced, sang, and made art. He spent the
last five year! s at Rosemont, an assisted living facility, where he had a
second stor y studio apartment with sunset views. He often told me how lucky he
was, living with a big loving family. I know in my heart that Rosemont extended
his life by several years.
Although Dad did not want to talk
much about dying, he was emphatic about two things: dying in his own bed and
wanting his friends to celebrate his life, not mourn his death. Fortunately, we
were able to fulfill his wishes. His favorite grandson and I were with him when
he took his last breath. A few days later we held a celebration with the
residents, staff, and friends, of which he had many, all ages. The dining room
at Rosemont was festooned with flowers and streamers on the tablesand balloons floating under the ceiling.
Children from a local school, who
visit weekly with the residents at Rosemont, served ice cream and handed out
leis. Dad's good friend and favorite pastor, John Monroe-Cassel gave a eulogy
unlike any I ha! d ever heard him give before. He truly captured Dad's generous
and positive spirit. Dad would have loved it all.
But it could so easily have gone
wrong.
I think his rapid decline was
precipitated by a visit to the emergency room. (More about that next month.)
Around the first of February one of
the staff found him on the floor in the bathroom, unresponsive, with a cut on
his scalp. I had an agreement with Rosemont not to send him to the hospital
except for a broken bone or a cut severe enough to need stitches. I don't blame
the staff for what turned out to be an overreaction. A cut on the head or face
typically bleeds profusely. It turned out to be superficial.
(I later learned from his doctor
that as long as you can stop the bleeding with pressure, you have up to twelve
hours to get stitches, if necessary.)
I got to the hospital as fast as I
could and foun! d Dad in the ER, surrounded by half a dozen technicians poking
at him, sticking needles in him, strapping blood pressure cuffs on him and then
later subjecting him to an MRI. He was obviously terrified and overwhelmed for
him. His heart went into arrhythmia and it took a few more hours for it to
stabilize. Before long it was late afternoon. We had been there all day, so I
told the doctor I was going to take him home. She wanted to admit him for
observation and do further tests to find the cause for his episode. When I
asked what she could do for a 96-year-old once she identified the problem, she
paused and said, "I see your point." and signed the release form.
Once back home at Rosemont, he
rallied. He rejoined the community with his usual cheer, albeit a little
weaker. Although it didn't seem necessary at the time, I decided to bring in
hospice, knowing that in six months we would review his progress or lack of it.
Little did I know that he would be gone within the next two weeks. A week
before his passing,! he decided to stop taking in any nourishment, even his
favorite apple juice. I can't emphasize enough how important it was to have the
support of hospice for him - and for me. They knew just how to keep him
comfortable. He sang with me, enjoyed listening to phone calls from his
grandchildren, even when responding became too difficult for him. He got to
spend time with his favorite grandson up until the very end.
A friend lent us a nature sound
player, which we placed next to his good ear. He slipped away to the sounds of
the ocean. It was a good death. His passing was so serene that I feel at
completely at peace.
If you would like to
"meet" my dad, go to http://storyportraitmedia.blogspot.com/
