I got the call in the afternoon, if I remember right. It was a nurse who worked at the nursing home where my dad was staying. She had a lot of concern in her voice. I knew this wasn’t going to be good.
I knew this nurse a little. I think her name was Josie, but I’m not totally positive. I moved away many years prior to this incident. She was younger than me, but she knew my family. She lived in the same small town where they lived, and everybody knew everybody.
A few days prior to that, my dad had trouble walking. That’s why he was in the nursing home. One of his legs didn’t work very well and he kept falling when he put weight on it. I remember him telling me about it. I didn’t know what to say, but I felt deep sorrow about his health deteriorating. He was a very active person, and I knew being non-ambulatory would greatly reduce his quality of life.
The nurse told me my dad was getting worse. She said, he can’t stand up and is becoming incontinent. Then she said, I can call this in, but they will take him back to the same hospital that released him here. She wasn’t sure this was the right choice.
Right before my dad lost control over his leg, he had a chemical stress test done at this hospital. There was some suspicion that the stress test might have triggered a stroke, and that was why he lost control over his leg. She didn’t want to send him back if there was a possibility of malpractice.
I couldn’t afford to make an imperfect move. My dad’s life was hanging in the balance.
I wasn’t sure what to do, but I felt completely responsible. I knew this was one of those life changing decisions I was going to have to make. I couldn’t afford to make an imperfect move. My dad’s life was hanging in the balance. It felt like I alone would have to save him. The weight of this whole ordeal was unbelievably heavy.
I remember telling her, I see your point, but I’m unsure what options we have. She then said, I have to release him back to the same hospital, because that’s the only one around, but you can take him anywhere.
I should note at this point, that areas with less population density don’t always attract the best medical professionals, and they often can’t afford the best equipment. The harsh truth is, these small hospitals are of much lessor quality than those in major cities.
The nurse was suggesting that I drive all the way to the nursing home, which was almost a two hour drive, in a completely different state, then pick him up and drive him all the way back to where I live, and walk him into an emergency room. She knew the hospitals where I lived were much better, and she felt like my dad could get a more accurate diagnosis there. She wasn’t wrong.
I felt like I had to give it a shot for my dad’s sake. Shortly after this phone call ended, I jumped in my car and made the long drive to the nursing home to pick up my dad.
In hindsight, it just seems fitting that the last ride was made in his van.
Other family members were there to help me load him up. We took his red mini van because it would be much more comfortable for him than my small coupe. This van was also his pride and joy. In hindsight, it just seems fitting that the last ride was made in his van.
When I got there, I could see he had really deteriorated since I had last seen him. He was now on pain meds. I felt really bad about transporting him this way, but I wasn’t sure what else to do. The drive was going to be long, and it wasn’t going to be a pleasant ride for him.
I felt like I was being a good son. I believed I was going to save my dad. Looking back, I realize I was very naive.
At that time, I thought, we are going to get a diagnosis, figure out if it was a stroke, and I know that’s bad, but if we can get that stabilized, we can work on his rehabilitation. It will be hard, but maybe he can walk again. I felt like we were going to get through this. I felt like I was being a good son. I believed I was going to save my dad. Looking back, I realize I was very naive.
I’ve driven a lot in my life, I really have. At that time, I commuted a couple hours everyday. I’ve also taken road trips, not long ones, but pretty significant ones. I was also quite fond of making drives in the country, just looking at trees and pastures, but none of those drives would compare to this one.
I can still remember the sound of the van door sliding shut. That was the sound of my old life being closed off forever.
I will remember the trip for the rest of my life, but not because something happened on the way. It was just a long dark ride down an empty highway, with nothing but black pastures on either side, completely lifeless except for the occasional black silhouette of a trees and shrubs speeding past the side windows. My life was never the same afterwards though. I can still remember the sound of the van door sliding shut. That was the sound of my old life being closed off forever.
We finally arrived at the hospital where I live. This would be the first but not the last hospital we would be at that night. I got him into the ER and explained the symptoms. They began running a battery of tests. The night seemed to creep by very slowly.
I’m sorry I have to be the one to tell you this, but your dad has a tumor in his brain.
It seemed like forever, but the doctor finally came to tell me what they had found. He looked grave. He said, we think we found what is wrong with your dad, but we are not equipped to treat something like this at this hospital. He showed me a chart, and said, I’m sorry I have to be the one to tell you this, but your dad has a tumor in his brain. The best thing we can do is get him transported to a bigger hospital, and they can decide his treatment.
At that time, I was still my old self, the self that believed in happy endings, the self that had hope left inside him. Unfortunately, that self was about to die.
I don’t know how to describe my feelings at that moment. Everything just felt numb all over. The words were spoken, but they just didn’t register. I think maybe I was in shock. I couldn’t let anyone see how I really felt inside. I had to be strong for my mom and dad. At that time, I was still my old self, the self that believed in happy endings, the self that had hope left inside him. Unfortunately, that self was about to die.
He was taken to the hospital in the city where I now live, years later. At the time though, I barely visited this city. It was big and scary to me. I wasn’t sure I could navigate the roads and traffic to even find my dad. I was afraid I would have a wreck on the way. Miraculously, my mom and I made it.
My dad stayed in intensive care that night and my mom slept in a chair beside his bed. It was a long night. I finally got a few hours sleep in one of the waiting rooms. It wasn’t comfortable and the room was freezing. I was awakened by strangers shuffling around the next morning and staring at me. I felt really rough and probably looked it.
The tears were flooding out of my eyes in an absolute maelstrom.
I remember driving my dad’s minivan home to get some things at my house. When I was away from my mom, I just let it all out. I was in a city I never visited with traffic all around, and I remember just screaming at the top of my lungs at one point, and it all just broke loose. The tears were flooding out of my eyes in an absolute maelstrom. I couldn’t even see the road. I don’t know how I got home that day, and at that moment I really didn’t care if I made it.
I was absolutely mad as hell that this was going to happen!
In my mind, I then knew what was ahead. I knew it was going the be the most horrific thing I could imagine happening to the greatest man I had ever known. He did not deserve this! He was a good man. He was in church every Sunday, and prayed every day, and never wronged anyone. He was a saint. The worst cuss word I ever heard him say was cotton picking. This was just wrong! I was not just horrified and saddened to an unbelievable level; I was absolutely mad as hell that this was going to happen!
There were many long days to follow. They did tests and a biopsy. It was worse than they thought. They discovered that the cancer he had was a kind of cancer that is usually found in the lungs, but it had metastasized and spread to other parts of his body. They found cancer in his lungs and pancreas as well as his head.
The tumor in his brain had grown big enough that it was producing stroke like symptoms. That was why he wasn’t able to walk. He would eventually lose control over the entire right side of his body, including half of his throat, preventing him from swallowing food.
The doctor then told me the worst news. He said, your dad is not in a condition that we would recommend treatment. It would just cause him a lot of suffering and the result would be the same. He has stage four cancer and it is terminal. He said, I’m sorry, but we recommend you focus on quality of life, and hospice care is a good option.
Seeing your dad die like this is not something a son should ever have to witness.
It was a hard decision, but my mom and I decided that the doctor was right. The hardest part was letting my dad know. He was a man who loved life and family. It was very hard seeing my dad cry when he realized he was going to have to say goodbye. He was the strong one, not me. Seeing your dad die like this is not something a son should ever have to witness.
I can remember holding his hand many times those last few days.
It didn’t happen quickly. He was eventually released to a care facility close to my house where I could visit him. I remember some days I could hear him moaning in pain before I even got to the room. Some days were better though. His brother and sister were able to visit him. I can remember holding his hand many times those last few days.
Unfortunately, his sister died shortly after visiting him. She died peacefully at home after finding out her baby brother was terminal. I never told my dad she passed. I felt like it was more that he needed to bear.
His health continued to deteriorate and his quality of life along with it. The biggest issue he had was that he couldn’t swallow his food very well because half of his throat was paralyzed. This caused him to aspirate part of the food, which eventually led to him getting pneumonia, and that was what really killed him.
I remember the last night in the hospital in the old town where I used to live. My mom and I sat with him for the last time. His breathing was very labored, and they had him knocked out with drugs. I knew he wasn’t going to wake up this time. My mom said she couldn’t bear to see this anymore. I took her home and I got a call from the nurse saying that my father had passed.
Right after my dad died, everything seemed to enter a dark spiral. I’m not the superstitious type, but I sometimes wonder if good people keep the world in balance. I sometimes feel like they are the pillars that hold everything up. Maybe not physically, but in some supernatural way. After they are gone, the world is simply not the same without them.
I stopped believing in happy endings.
I wish I could say I recovered from all this, but I really didn’t. I’m not the same man who got into the van on that fateful day. A part of me died on that trip, and I stopped believing in happy endings. That being said, I would do it all again for my dad.
There is something I did learn from all this. When I broke down in that van, I remember this very powerful thought entering my mind. I remember thinking, I did not create this situation. I did not create cancer. I did not create death. If I created this world myself, I wouldn’t even allow those things to exist.
At that point it occurred to me that the amount of control I actually do have is microscopic. I can’t control any of the factors that caused cancer to become a reality. It is also true that responsibility follows control. You cannot be held responsible for something unless you have absolute control over it, and the amount of control you have over this universe is positively miniscule.
Forgive yourself and be at peace.
Stop blaming yourself. You are not the one who is holding all the cards. You are not the one with all the responsibility. It’s not your fault. None if this is your fault. It was all put in motion before you were even born. Forgive yourself and be at peace.
This was a hard one to write. I hope something good comes from it. Let me know in the comments what you think, and don’t forget to like and subscribe.
Ken's Life 