The other day mum gave to me the living will of my father, and maybe she was doing it so I would feel better about the choices made about his life, and death. It doesn't. She said for me to shred it when i was done reading it- I can't.
I can't distroy it, because, it was one of the most important decisions that my dad made in his life, second only to his decison to marry my mum.
My dad died because the drs screwed up. He had a cough that went on for too long and they kept shoving antibiotics at him, they kept giving him pain pills and treating it like a cold. The drs ignored it for over 6 months. At any time they could have done a bronkoscopy, and it would have found the tumor. Even if they LOOKED and compaired the x rays they would have seen it. He developed lung cancer, and they removed it and they patted themselves on the back saying how they got it in time, but they didn't check further, they didn't take the steps to see that it wouldn't spread, or that it hadn't spread and while they are making appointments for him to see them in the years time, they never followed up with chemo, or other treatments.
He was *cured*
several months later he is back at the drs and they don't listen to him, send him home , tell him he is fine.
The one drs answer was, give him what ever is needed. He could have had oxywhatever if he wanted, but he didn't.
when they did tell him that it was back they kept saying "we have a few tests and then chemo.. we have to find out what type of cancer it is, to see what dose we need come back in two weeks, and there was always another test- and dad did good until two weeks before. He had a needle biopsy and he came home and went to bed, didn't eat.
Ironic that he was so weak, and he called to see the dr and they said, no you have to wait until your appointment in a month to see the dr. :
my sister called them back, and they were able to arrange to have the dr see him in two days. The following day dad was in the hospital, he had collapsed and they rushed him in by ambulance.
now, here is where, the series of mistakes compounded.
Dad was on basic pain medication for his arthritus, but they insisted on putting him on morpine.
he was also on an antibiotic as he had phenomia and he was told that he would get worse before he got better.
the morphine did - things, it shut down his kidneys, made him constipated, and filled his lungs with fluid. by wensd of that week he had been put on a ventilator and was at the mercy of the nurses.
now, he did ask to be put on it, and in the same light, he said that he wanted what ever it took to get him better.
48 hrs later the antibiotic had worked, but the drs were puzzled that his lungs still had fluid in them, that his kidney were beginning to fail, and on monday morning, his alarm for the o2 level went off, the tube was clogged, and its a proceedure that takes seconds to clear. but- they let it go for 30 miniutes.
Regardless of the living will, someone should have checked up on him before 30 min. What were they expecting, waiting for him to code and when he didn't they were forced to do something?
the ratio is 2 to one of nurses on the floor, and the time that I have been there- they have spent more time chatting than with patent care.
My mother knows, most, of what happened with my father, what was presented to her, and no one mentioned the morphine was a contributing factor in everything.
Mum got the call, and had me call my sibs, and I just had to say."Its time" and they were there. My adopted brother drove by the house, and he just- knew- something was wrong, and he made it to the hosptial in time.
What happened , behind everything is something that my mother does not know, and while I have tried to explain it to my brother, he couldn't accept it.
Everyone was milling about, making decisions, and I asked the nurse what would happen and she said "in cases like this as the dr has ordered the morphine for comfort, what we do is, we give them a little bit and then a little bit more. "
and I said Ok. I mean, it sounded like she was just going to push the button for the pump they had put in and that was ok.
His dr finaly came- after my dad was in there almost a week he came to the hospital to see him.
but as I sat, holding dads hand after they took him off the resperator, I saw her duck behind the curtan and I heard the beeps of the pump as she changed things not just pushing the button, but, increasing his dose, and he broke out into a sweat. each time she would do it, his vitals would drop, and he would sweat, and had I had access to the internet, I would have know what she was doing.
she overdosed my father on morphine. I have spoken with others who have loved ones with cancer, and they tell me it is a common practice.
Now, mum was releaved that dad went so quickly, that he didn't suffer- and she doesn't know what the nurse did and i won't tell her, and reading the living will of my dad doesn't make it easier even though it says that if he got to the state where he couldn't recognize people and needed life support he didn't want to live. but on the other hand, simple things could have been done that he would have lived - should have lived. and I know people say he was old. Fokes, 106 is old. 82 isn't.
there is a growing movement to not treat people with cancer if they are stage 3 or 4. the insurance doesn't want to deal with it and the drs give up. If they stopped giving up and started working for what they were paid for, maybe, they would have a better chance of survival.
My friend lost her father, her grand father, and her mother in law in three months. She's told me that I have to "get over it" and stop thinking about what happened.
She wasn't there when any of them died. Her father fell over dead from a heart attack. Not even 60. Her mother in law had been ill and she was out of state, so, she never saw her die, her father had made the decision to take her grandfather off of the feeding tubes, and she said it was a horrid death as he starved to death. Don't let the media fool you. starving to death is a horrid way to go.
but, she didn't see him die. She wasn't close with her father, or his dad, and its two different things. She has never been able in her life to have a solid relationship with anyone because her home life was screwed from the get go. While she loved her dad and there were things unsaid between them, she still gets upset on the day that he died.
My dads death was a progression that was heartbreaking because there are things they didn't do. Things he didn't know to ask for, and things done because it was easyier to do than to do things proper.
Mum hates this time of year, always did. always will.
Two weeks before his death my dad celebrated my birthday. A down comforter, a tool kit (don't tell your brothers I gave you that) and plastic for my windows so I would be warm that year.
A few weeks ago, Mum and I purchased the two plots next to theirs. I have let the cemetary know that I want to be buried next to my dad, and that whom ever needs the other plot in our family can have it.
nice view. nice location. Non adverstized land, and in a section that has my aunt and uncle on the other side, surrounded by veterns.
I guess the point of this, is to understand that even after two years for my dad, and a year for my uncles death, it still hurts , its changed, but it still hurts.
I cry, and then, I feel better. I hope someday the truth can be said, but for now, for my mothers comfort, it must be silent.
my dads cause of death wasn't cancer.
he was murdered.