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blindsided 2002-03-12 I have some sad news to report. At almost midnight on Saturday night, Francisco's sister called and said that their dad wasn't breathing and she thought he might be dead. She wanted to get Francisco's phone number at the hotel in Atlanta, but she had to hang up abruptly to deal with the paramedics (her spouse was doing CPR when she called me). Her spouse called about 10 minutes later to say the paramedics were still working on him, and they didn't know anything yet, so I gave him Francisco's phone number and hung up and called Francisco to tell him what was happening and that he should call his sister. He did and he called me back about 20-30 minutes later to say that their dad had died. Francisco's dad had been sick the past 2-3 weeks, especially last week, but I hadn't written about it here because we didn't really know what was wrong with him, and he was acting like it was no big deal. He had asthma all his life (and smoked heavily) and he was saying that his allergies were acting up the past few weeks, and that was the problem. He had also lost a lot of weight in the past several months, and was not trying to gain any back. Francisco, after consulting with his sister several times last week, called the doctor on Friday (from Atlanta) to ask him to hospitalize their dad. The doctor told him that their dad had advanced emphysema and fibroid tumors in his lungs, and that he had lost so much weight because he had chronic constipation and so he had basically stopped eating. The doctor told Francisco that his dad was disregarding all doctor instructions, such as "eat", and "come in to see me". He said that he couldn't hospitalize a person for malnutrition when it was self-inflicted (which, don't anorexics get hospitalized? Because it seems to me that they do), but that his dad had an appointment to see him on Monday, and he would consider hospitalizing him then. About an hour and a half before I got the phone call on Saturday (this is what my brother in law told me), their dad had called upstairs [he lived on the bottom floor of a split level, and Francisco's sister and spouse live on the top floor] to ask someone to let his dog out, as he was too weak and dizzy to get up and do it. Francisco's sister was alarmed and told her dad she was going to call 911, but he (always extremely stubborn) argued her out of it. He told her he was fine and that he was just tired, and that he could wait until Monday to see the doctor. When she went to check on him an hour later, he wasn't breathing. The hardest thing about this, for me anyway, is wondering if Francisco's dad knew just how sick he was. He definitely knew he was sicker than he was telling other people, but did he know he was going to die? If so, then he probably just didn't want to die in a hospital, hooked up to a respirator and being poked and prodded all the time. But what if he, accustomed to being sick with his asthma for so long, and also accustomed to being fatigued from lack of food, didn't realize that he was at death's door? Would he have consented to the ambulance then? There is no way to know, and the uncertainty is hard to take. I was so sad on Saturday night. I was sad for my sister in law and her spouse, because they must feel horrible for not overriding his wishes and calling 911. I can't imagine how traumatic the whole situation was for them--finding him not breathing; having an ambulance and fire truck show up with accompanying bedlam; watching them work on him and fail to revive him. It must've been absolutely horrible. I was also extremely sad for Francisco--he lost his father and he was in Atlanta, alone, with no one to comfort him. I cried a lot that night. By the way, Boy slept through the whole thing--the numerous phone calls and etc. When I told him in the morning he was sort of stunned that something like that could happen when he was asleep. Francisco flew back early from Atlanta--I picked him up at about 10:15 a.m. from the airport on Sunday. He had not slept at all and I had slept 2 hours at the most. We were like zombies. He didn't get to present his paper at the conference, because he was supposed to do that later on Sunday morning, and the paper was the whole point of his attending the conference. The university Francisco attends was going to pay for his conference expenses, because he was representing them by presenting a paper, and I don't know if they're going to do that now, but it'll all work out. Francisco flew to Seattle yesterday morning, early. He and his sister have already made the funeral arrangements, and the rest of this week they'll be trying to figure out their dad's financial situation, because he did not have a will. Luckily he had a life insurance policy, because it is really expensive to bury someone. Boy and I are flying out on Saturday morning, and the funeral will be Sunday afternoon. We're all three flying back Sunday night, late. Boy and I would go out earlier this week except that Boy is going on his big 5th grade Washington, D.C. field trip on Thursday morning, and he won't be back until late Friday night. This week is going to suck and suck powerfully, let me tell you. It will be comprised of beau coup stress and inadequate sleep, but I know I can get through it. Just last night I had the triumph of not killing The Boy when he spilled an entire bowl of clam chowder on the living room rug, and I didn't even yell. I spooned it up and then had him clean the carpet with a wet towel while I made him a Boca Burger. I know he would have rather had another bowl of clam chowder, but that was Not going to happen. I have other things to report but they'll have to wait until tomorrow. I have Way too many files to get through, because I was home from work yesterday in order to try and get things done in advance for the week and the funeral. Once home, I couldn't think of many things to do, so I went to Target. They didn't have sheets anything Close to what I want, and they didn't have any suitable compost containers. I will try to remain loyal in spite of my disappointment. Have a great day and take good care of yourselves. More tomorrow, Love, E
come over some time & see me - 2011-02-25 |
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