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Date Posted: 19:54:33 03/28/02 Thu
Author: Rita
Subject: Watching Father Die

Father had a nurse the evening that he died.
The nurse knew that 2 surgeries on an 80-year-old man would kill the man. I feel that every doctor who walked into dad's room also knew that the 2 surgeries would kill him.

Watching Father Die


On November 28, 2001, Dad fell while walking to or from the dining room. He was an 80-year-old who was living at an assisted-living complex. Dad’s health had been failing. He had gone from 160 pounds to 105. When dad fell, he apparently broke his hip, and he was taken to St. Mary’s Hospital in Livonia.
My 81-year-old mother-in-law, Maxine wished to know all of dad’s death details. Maxine’s husband Sherman had died at Pontiac General Hospital because of complications that had developed from and during his hip surgery. Apparently, now in December 2001, Maxine’s doctor had told her that she was in need of surgery, but at her age, the surgical pain might kill her. Maxine also had informed that she weighed 155 pounds and had not filed her Living Will.
The day after dad fell, a doctor called me. I knew dad’s health had been failing. The fall seemed the beginning of the end, and I said: “Father is old and frail.” The doctor’s tone of voice seemed designed to put me on a guilt trip, as he said, “Are you going to leave this poor man in pain?”
When dad could speak for himself, he declined all surgeries; but when he made out his Living Will, he did not include “No Surgeries”. Had dad included “No Surgeries”, I would have replied to the doctor, “Yes. We’ll make arrangements for hospice.” Instead, I replied, “Call my brother…he’s in charge of that.”
Mother-in-law then asked, “Where were your dad’s medical records? My doctor hands me all my medical records…I don’t even have to ask for them.”
Watching Father Die Page 2

Apparently, the doctor didn’t have any of dad’s medical records and he had to make his own. When the doctor discovered that dad had not had a surgery in 50 or more years, it was one surgery after another. Dad was hospitalized from November 28, 2001 to his painful death on December 12, 2001.
First it was a hip surgery, then an amputation to the knee. I was not aware of the amputation. The day after, I visited dad. He had been in constant pain since he had entered the hospital. So, when I saw dad sleeping, I began chatting with the people visiting the patient in the next bed.
A doctor entered the room to see dad. I asked about the possible gangrene that my brother mentioned. The doctor removed the sheets to look at dad’s foot. I didn’t see dad’s foot. I asked, “Where’s his foot?”
The doctor replied, “Foot?”
Since I don’t speak clearly, I have to say something several times. “Yes, foot,” and I pointed to my feet, saying, “I have two feet, you have two feet…dad had two feet…those things at the bottom of your legs.”
The doctor moved from the foot of the bed to the center, saying, “Let’s see,” and he pulled the sheets from dad’s body.
My first thought was that his foot was tucked under his body. Then the light bulb clicked, “Oh my God, it’s been amputated!”


Watching Father Die Page 3

The doctor motioned with his fingers, as if to say, “Come with me retard.” I followed him into the hall where he pointed to father’s room and said, “What for you do that?”
Immediately, I knew that he was referring to the amputation. Any retard could tell that both surgeries were an example of Human Exploitation. If there were gangrene, it would have showed up with the first blood test. It was like a game of charades where we talked with our hands and could understand each other perfectly. “Well,” I said, “I have an 81-year-old mother-in-law,” I turned pointing to Room 555, “who would like to know all the details about that.”
We both knew that I was talking about father’s amputation.
“I understand,” the doctor said, while placing his hands behind his butt, and continuing, “I am only talking to myself. If that were my father, he would have died at home with some kind of dignity. Huhhhhh, nothing like that.” And he waved his left hand toward the room with a disgust expression. Then the kind doctor gave several good suggestions.
I returned home and e-mailed Brother who replied, “When a doctor tells you to amputate to remove the gangrene…He is the doctor, so you agree to amputate! Who did you talk to the Hospital Janitor?”
The next day, my husband and I visited dad. He was lying on his side, appearing to be asleep with his eyes half open. Dad’s food came about 5 p.m. The man in the next bed told me that dad had eaten in the morning, but they had had to feed him.
Watching Father Die Page 4

It was difficult to feed dad while he was lying on his side. So, when they came to pick up his tray, I asked if sitting up would help dad eat better.
Two people entered the room to move the 80-pound-man to a sitting up position. Dad’s eyes popped wide open. His eyes seemed to be screaming with as much pain as his voice was. I couldn’t believe the pain Dad was in, as he screamed: “God damn what are you doing to me now”. Immediately, I wished that I had not asked dad to be moved to a sitting position. The two people who moved Dad explained that his butt sores were what was giving him pain. I was shocked at the words “butt-sores”. Dad didn’t have butt-sores when I was told to tell dad to poop in his pants the week prior.
I tried to feed dad some vanilla ice cream. His breathing was heavy and rattled. Dad’s last meal was three small spoons of vanilla ice cream…the ice cream actually had to melt and run down his throat. Then he didn’t want any more. I quit the feeding and sat down.
Dad’s nurse came into the room. Most people know about the 1908 tuberculosis vaccine that was never used in Michigan. So, I started chatting with dad’s nurse to see if she knew about the vaccine. Had the vaccine not been withheld, it would have been developed into a much better one. The man in the next bed joined in our conversation. As we chatted, the nurse turned her head to look at dad. His head was laid back on the pillow, his eyes half open and his mouth was fully opened. I thought I saw his chest move; it was probably his last breath.


Watching Father Die Page 5

The nurse placed her stethoscope on dad’s chest, shaking her head. At 6:30, a doctor entered the room and officially declared dad dead. I considered myself blessed that I was present when both of my parents had passed on. In Dad’s case it was obvious that he died of surgical pain, and I wondered if the doctor who declared dad officially dead would be calling the cause-of-death: surgical pain? My husband offered his suggestion. The doctor probably said to cut off the limb and replace it with plastic. Hummm, that was an interesting observation. The needed amputation would be whether or not dad was being fitted for a new limb. Why remove a limb, and leave a person bedridden to die to the bacterial parasites?
The next day, dad was to go to a convalescent home to die of old age because he needed special care for his frail condition. So, why mention “Watching Father Die” and how he died without dignity weighing 80 pounds?
Again, I mention that my 81-year-old mother-in-law wished to know every detail. On the day my father died, Maxine weighted the same as she did 10 years ago. Maxine’s an independent elderly person who couldn’t understand why dad’s medical records were NOT available to all of dad’s doctors at St. Mary’s Hospital. (I’m still working on the list of her questions.)
Dad did not go to a lawyer to file his right-to-die with dignity. He did not state where he wished to die: at home with family or in a convalescent home around strangers. Dad also did not state that when he could not speak for himself, he did not wish that his body parts be removed, which he felt would leave him totally, painfully bedridden until death. The message to the United States elderly would be go to an attorney and put it in writing: “Please don’t kill me with surgical pain.”
It used to be that you paid your doctor to save your life. This was a clear case of paying a doctor to painfully kill you.
Meanwhile, I had been complaining how the Prescription Drug Law removed my right to my more effective antibiotics. The people who know me know that I would be saying, “Back in 1908 when the patriots were singing “God bless America,” the evil Michigan doctors were praying to Satan, saying: “I’ll see you and your siblings sick and dead before I see you receive a tuberculosis vaccine.”

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