a caretaker/daughter's lament

Tweet

Last year at this time, my dad consulted his doctor about a diarrhea that just wouldn't quit and a problem with steady weight loss. Then in February, 2006, the doctor told my dad that he had a liver tumor. Turned out later on that things were even more serious. My dad was diagnosed with lung cancer in April after a biopsy. Two rounds of chemo didn't help, as my dad's condition continued to deteriorate. He stayed at my sister's house and I went there almost every day, trying to comfort and help him, hoping against hope that somehow, a miracle would save him. As my dad's condition deteriorated, he lost control of his bladder and had a hard time swallowing. He became weaker and soon resembled a skeleton. In spite of his condition, he still tried to be independent, walking when he could and refusing to use a cane, hospital bed and oxygen. My sister and I had aides from the local hospice visiting and bathing him. It was a heartbreaking time. But at least I was there as often as possible, doing what I could to help. I was also at my dad's side as his breathing became more labored, in spite of oxygen, as he sat in bed. Finally, I heard a rattle and felt his hands go cold. He was gone. I still miss him and will never forget how hard he tried to please everyone and how patient he was to the end, although he often asked why. I didn't know what to say.... I know that while his body is dead, my dad's spirit is very much alive and well. But even knowing that is of little comfort and even depressing. I can't believe that he is gone.