Almost 1 year....

I've been trying to write on this blog since September 2016 - a mere 5 months after my mother's death - but have struggled to produce any written pieces. It is now 2018 and I find myself trying to write more these days, especially as my brothers and I approach our father's 1 year angelversary date. Losing my mother was one thing and losing my father was another thing. Both losses have been extremely painful to navigate - in very different ways.

When we lost our mother, she had already suffered a massive stroke 5 years earlier - a stroke which debilitated her and incapacitated her in many ways, for she was confined to a wheelchair, had a catheter and was only able to say "I know" and "No." Five years to the day of her massive stroke, she had a blood clot and subsequently another stroke. Hours were given to us to say goodbye before she hopped onto her one-way flight to Heaven. Mom's death was expected, but still unexpected. Truly an extremely devastating and heartbreaking loss as I was also going through a breakup from a 8-year long relationship at the same time, so my grief was substantially compounded by two very deep losses within an extremely short time frame.

Not even 10 months later, I remember being at work and getting a text message from my 2nd oldest brother, Garrett. He said something to the effect of, "Erin - Dad had a horrible stroke. It doesn't look good." My initial response to Garrett was, "Is this some kind of sick joke?" I knew this was not a joke but my already grieving mind and heart prayed it was. I stumbled over to my colleague's office across the hall, showed her my iPhone and she read the text exchange. She put her hand on my shoulder and offered support. There was no response for several minutes. I then typed, "Which hospital?" to which an immediate response came, "Upstate." I started sobbing uncontrollably. The same hospital which our mother was brought to after her massive stroke in 2011. 

Here I was, barely hanging on from my mother's death, and now I had to go through this with my father. I grabbed my bag and ran out of my office to my car and headed home to pick up some clothes. Thankfully, my department chair - who is also a dear friend of mine - met me at my home and took my dog so that I could head to Syracuse and be with my father. Just as I did on April 18, 2016 when I got the news about my mother, I flew down the New York State Thruway at 90 mph on February 8, 2017 to be with my father. I needed to get there as soon as I could.

As I rushed into Upstate Medical Center, I saw Paulie, Garrett and Dake standing around our father. He was laying on a hospital gurney and appeared to be alert. Then one of my older brothers, I can't remember which one, I want to say Garrett but my memory is fogged, took me aside and explained Dad's condition. This was bad. Very bad. Worse than mother's. The reason why it was worse - well, at least one of the reasons why - is because he wasn't found for at least 12 hours after his stroke. No one was around him when the stroke happened. He was all alone as he went through a terrifying and life-altering medical episode which immediately incapacitated him and immobilized him for hours before he was found.

When we got to the hospital on February 8, 2017 we all waited for news from tests and other exams performed on our father. Garrett, Dake and I slept in the hospital room that night with our father. The next day, doctors would perform the swallow test to see if our father could swallow food and drinks.

He failed the swallow test.

He also signed a DNR, a no feeding tubes, and no medical intervention form - two years before all of this happened.

This is when my brothers and I realized that our conversations needed to switch from rehabilitation to hospice.

Despite the fact that we all were unanimous insofar as the direction to move in and on the same page, these were extremely painful conversations to have with my brothers, hospital staff and social workers. We had, to our advantage, two in-laws who are in the medical field. My youngest brother, Dake's wife - Nicole - was a nurse and had many years of experience in hospice work - was able to help guide us through the necessary next steps. She was the one - thank goodness! - who recommended we begin discussing how to bring our father back home so that he could be comfortable and die in his own home, as opposed to the hospital. And my oldest brother, Paulie's wife  - Mary - worked for Blue Cross Blue Shield so she had a firm grasp on the insurance component of the journey. Regardless, the process was extremely painful for each and every member of our family during this time.

We brought our father home and would have 7 days left with him before he joined our mother in Heaven. I remember those final days vividly. There was a lot of tension within the family - namely between me and my youngest brother, which contributed to the stress of all around us - but I deeply appreciated that we were all able to be civil with one another during these extremely trying times in our lives. My brothers and I were with our father 24/7. Each of us taking turns in taking care of him. Thankfully, we were often in pairs or threes as some of the tasks - such as cleaning him - needed to have at least two people there.

I only left his side for a few hours on two or three occasions.  I did not want to miss his leaving this world. But, ironically, the very day he would leave this world - I almost missed his passing. Garrett, Dake and I had slept in the same room as our father. I got up and made my brothers some scrambled eggs. They would tell me how they got up throughout the night because they heard changes in Dad's breathing. I felt saddened because I didn't hear those breathing changes. I am Deaf and I don't hear. I told them they should have awoken me, but they both shook their heads and said they took care of it. Not the point. Why am I laying in the very same room my own father is dying in, but I can't be of help in the middle of the night just because I don't hear changes in his breathing? That's an example of a dynamic with a Deaf and hearing family member in the end-of-life stages that people might want to consider.

Regardless, it was Saturday February 18, 2017 and I hadn't showered for three days so I decided to take a shower and told Garrett and Dake that I was taking a shower. I took a long hot shower, got myself dressed, went into the kitchen to grab a Pepsi, then headed back to the room where our father was. As soon as I walked in, I saw Garrett and Dake standing beside our father - holding his hand - his eyes had opened. I immediately ran over and said, "Why didn't you get me???" Garrett said, "It just happened!" I put my left hand on my father's leg and my right hand on Dake's back. We all just stood there as he took his last breaths. By my count, it was 5 more breaths before he was gone. And to think I almost missed it. 

I was actually terrified of how my father would die given the death my mother went through. Both were very different deaths. I felt as though my mother's death was more painful to watch than my father's. She appeared to struggle and there was blood coming out of her nose and mouth in her final moments, whereas my father did not experience that. I was told, later, that my mother did not feel any pain and was not struggling but that my witnessing her death was a struggle. It was actually very traumatic. I am glad that I was there, by her side, but I still have nightmares of her death. But that's another whole post for me to write.

For now, I guess I just wanted to put something out there as time soon approaches the one year mark of my father's death and I'm feeling more in a position to be able to express, in writing, what my experiences were like. I will write more in the time to come as I feel we - as a society - really do not discuss death and grief enough, hence the reason why so many people struggle with it.

We need to talk about it more.

We need to support each other more.