I have no idea what time I woke up the next day, but I do know that my boss emailed me back around 3:30 in the morning. Don’t ask me why he was awake at that hour, I have no idea. Over the years I’ve discovered that I remember the strangest details. Guess that’s just how my brain works. So be it.
It turns out my dad had a raging infection that caused the fever, the delusions, etc. To this day I believe that he thought if he left the house that night, he was never coming home. That’s why he yelled at us. That’s why he fought so hard. He wasn’t angry, he was scared. He wasn’t ready to go.
By Wednesday morning, he asked the doctor to let him die. He was tired & his body was weak. I have no clue how many the times the doctor explained to him that assisted suicide isn’t legal in the state of Virginia. I do know that he finally gave up & started explaining it to my mama. She knew, she understood, but my dad was in his own little world, disconnected from reality & so we waited for him to return.
Now, you need to understand that when my dad got something in his head as right, you couldn’t change his mind. He was determined that he just needed to die because he couldn’t live with the pain anymore. The first time he said those words, mama called me in a panic. I called my boyfriend. He drove in from out of town to take me to the hospital because I was mentally & physically exhausted. He knew I needed to be by my daddy’s side that night. When we got there we were greeted by a “CAUTION Potential Biohazard Present” sign on his door.
We had to wash up, put on paper gowns, masks, gloves, pretty much full hazmat suits because they still weren’t sure what was causing the infection.
We sat around his bed for hours, joking, telling stories, laughing, crying, you name it. I didn’t want to miss an opportunity to spend time with him. The hospital staff was amazing & we were allowed to stay WAY past visiting hours. I think we finally left sometime after 1am.
There were still no answers on Thursday, so we waited. We waited to see what would happen. We waited to see when he could come home, if he could come home. He was in the hospital for seven days as the doctors battled the infection with IV antibiotics. My mama stayed by his side the entire time & I honestly don’t know how much she actually slept or ate that week.
By the end of the seven days, my dad decided to stop all cancer treatments & transition to home hospice. Exactly one week after my dad was admitted to the hospital, I cleared out his home office to fit a hospital bed & other equipment.
My daddy was coming home for the last time & I was determined to be ready.
Who is Erika E?
Erika is a 6-year Army vet turned IT geek who drinks copious amounts of coffee & isn’t afraid of struggle. When she’s not working, she loves writing, reading, & NOT arithmetic (but can calculate as needed). Oh, & as you’ll see from her posts, she doesn’t shy away from tough topics.
Got a story you want to share? Email her at erika@mentalgrenade.com
These Veteran stories of struggle, adventure, and post traumatic growth need to be heard!
Join the cause to de-stigmatize mental health issues.
Please SUBSCRIBE, share our website with friends / co-workers, and support us by donation or at the STORE.
P.J. Hughes
February 22, 2022 08:55Thank You Erika,, with a K…
Your story flashes me back to 1987, and as I relive/ remember those moments in my life, I recall the “brother” who became my driver when I flew home to see my dad for the last time. Thru tear filled eyes, I recall his last words to me, and the very real fact that I am still processing this even now 35 years later… and it still hurts… I also recall vividly how God held me in His hand then,,, as He does now… And I am thankful for all those moments..
Well done Erika… you stirred the soul.. keep it up..
Erika E
February 22, 2022 09:45PJ, over the years I have learned, through experience, that the pain never goes away & grief doesn’t stop or disappear. There are times we may not notice it much & there are times we notice nothing else. Yet, we are given the choice to continue moving forward & live our lives to the fullest or drown ourselves in the dark shadows of sorrow. While there is a time & place for the sorrow, we can’t truly live there. I chose to acknowledge the pain, the sorrow, the fear, & every other emotion imaginable. I let them wash over me like an ocean wave, climb onto my surf board, paddle into position, & catch a ride on the next big one. To some this might sound strange, but I am grateful for the loss I have experienced & the lessons I have learned from each one as I continue to navigate my life. Thank you for reading, PJ. There is so much more to my story…