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Date Posted: 11:56:20 12/22/01 Sat
Author: Rita
Subject: Edited

(Edited)

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 the 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 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."

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!"

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

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. 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 him 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. Immediately, I
wished that I had not asked dad to be moved to a sitting position.

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
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.

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.

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." The chapters of my non-fiction book appear on
http://www.voy.com/43243/

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