Final Update on Dad

First thing this morning Tim called, saying the doctors wanted Mom to come in because they wanted to do surgery. She and Willa left ASAP, Laura was on her way to work, and I followed shortly after. Dad's abdominal pressure was higher than expected, so they wanted to try to relieve that by putting tubes in his cavity to drain fluid, etc. We had a chance to go in and talk to him, he received a blessing from Bros. Steve Tinkler and George Varcek (about 10am).

It wasn't very long after they started when the surgeon, another doctor or two came in, shooed everyone out of the waiting room but us, and told us most of Dad's intestines were dead (I can't remember the technical term they used). The enzymes from the pancreas as well as blood clots killed bits & pieces of them almost everywhere. If they were to "resect" (pretty much remove) the dead tissure, Dad would need to be fed from a tube, his liver would probably shut down completely from the shock, he'd have to spend the rest of his life in the hospital, and it wouldn't be for very long, anyway. And, of course, he would need to stay sedated, therefore, non-responsive for the most part. Mom talked to the surgeon alone to ask what he would do if it were his parents--he said he'd been through this with them, and he would just let them go, because nothing would change, Dad wouldn't get better. We made the decision to let him go.

We started calling people right away. Aide, Laura, Nancy, Betty. . . They and so many others needed to know. Carl and Tim went home (Tim wanted to punch something but then said he'd go for a run--I don't know if he ever got that in or not), and I stayed for as long as I could stand it--I wanted to go in and talk to Dad, but the nurses said they were "cleaning him up." When I said I didn't care, they said there was still "a lot of stuff in there." I couldn't take just sitting there, so I went home, not allowing anyone to come with me--the only people I could have stood for were not there or were not leaving, and there was no way I'd let someone else drive me somewhere--I couldn't be carless!! I just needed to leave! I wanted to go on a walk, but instead got into my car and cried, then called people, texted people, drove, talked, cried. Probably not the best decision I've ever made (to go by myself in that condition), but, in the end, I figured what I wanted/needed to do--I was going to get Tim's family for him. I knew having Andrea there would be the perfect distraction for me.

Editor's Note: Probably the worst part of this (other than, of course, that we were going to "lose" Dad) was that we could not get a hold of Laura. She wasn't answering her cell or work phone--the last time we had talked to her was before the operation, and she got upset because it was Tim to talked to her, and, of course, he was the only one who didn't get the assurance that everything would be OK (I doubt he even prayed about it at all). As far as I knew, that had gone horribly--maybe she was avoiding us? I didn't know. I eventually called Brittany, her roommate, who said she'd track Laura down for us. Thank goodness I had her number--I don't think anyone else did--though, of course, I only had it to check out presents and other surprises for Laura. . .

Patti, bless her heart, sounded as though she had been waiting for my call and was ready immediately to help. I drove to Madison, she drove me to La Crosse, we picked up Danielle, Colton, and Andrea, then back to Madison, then straight to the hospital.

Adrienne was already there. Avery was so cute, saying "Gampa has big owie" and "Gampa very sick" very earnestly. It was very good to see them. I got a chance to talk to Dad alone, then took Andrea in to see him. She understood that he was sick, and I pretty much told her that he was going to go away and we wouldn't see him for a very long time (I think Tim had explained things basically the same way--she knows what "kill" and "die" mean, but he didn't want to scare her by putting it that way). She patted his arm, kissed his hand, and said good bye.

Soon we were surrounded by all the family that was there. Mom wanted to say a family prayer, and I suggested we sing a song first. We sang "God Be with You Till We Meet Again"--Andrea had to be taken out bawling in the middle--I think our somberness and intermittent crying scared her a bit, plus she was exhausted. It was wonderful and fitting--Dad's voice was all we needed to make it perfect. Aunt Willa said a beautiful prayer (Andrea came in again sometime here, Avery interjected "Gampa very sick" a few times), then we all hugged and left Mom alone with Dad. She had already told us she wanted to be alone with him as he died.

We hung out in the waiting room for a bit until all us kids & grandkids left--aunts, uncles, and cousin having already fled--then regrouped at home again. Mom joined us not long afterwards--she says Dad died at about 10:30pm. She is spending the night at Bunny Timmons's tonight. It sounds like the funeral will be Friday, to give Phil enough time to drive out.

The problem (if there was one), was that we were all assured that everything would be OK--I was blessed to go through my trials with a cheerful countenance (or a cheerful SOMEthing). We all interpreted that to mean Dad was going to get better. We couldn't imagine any other outcome--Adrienne was pregnant, surely he would be there to greet his new grandchild! Etc. We were (rather obviously) wrong. I am OK with this. I don't know how or when that may change, all I can see is the present and the end--I will survive, however much I may dislike it in the near future. We'll all be fine, eventually. We forget that Heavenly Father wants us all to be super heroes--that's why He sent us here in the first place. And someday we will be.

That's all I've got for now.