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Date Posted: 10:09:07 12/13/01 Thu
Author: Rita
Subject: Watching Father Die

The Walk-Over
Chapter 5A
Watching Father Die

On November 28, 2001, dad fell. He was an 80-year-old who was living at
an assistance-living complex. Dad's health had been failing. He had gone
from 160 pounds to 105. He had broken his hip and was taken to St. Mary's
Hospital in Livonia.

The next day, a doctor called to inform my two brothers and me that dad
needed surgery to relieve his pain. When dad could speak for himself, he
declined all surgeries. The doctor who called recommended to all family
members that surgery was the best choice to relieve dad's pain. Dad was
hospitalized from November 28, 2001 to his death on December 12, 2001.

One surgery led to another. I was not aware of dad's leg amputation. The
day after, I had 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 at the next bed.

A doctor entered the room to see dad. I asked about the possible gangrene
that brothers were talking about. 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!"

Brother later said, "When a doctor tells you to amputate to remove the
gangrene...you amputate!"

The next day, my husband and I visited dad. He was lying on his side,
appearing to be asleep. 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 to feed
him.
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 to move dad to a sitting up position. Dad was in an
unbelievable amount of pain. I wished that I had not asked.

I tried to feed dad some vanilla ice cream. His breathing was heavy and
rattled. He didn't want to eat. 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 vaccine. 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.

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.

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 weighting 80 pounds without dignity?

Dad 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
until he was totally, painfully bedridden.

Meanwhile, I had been complaining how the Prescription Drug Law removed my
right to my more effective antibiotics. The chapters of my book appear on
http://www.voy.com/43243/
The non-fiction book's subject is how from 1977 to 2001 the withholding of
effective antibiotics and unnecessary surgeries have affected me.

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