It has now been a month and I am finally able to come to terms somewhat of things enough to open up more regarding the events. My father died on November 23rd at age 85. No matter how old parents are and how many health issues, it is hard to imagine them no longer alive. He never stayed in a hospital until he was aged 79. He never smoked or drank alcohol. Was diagnosed with MRSA after many doctors kept getting the diagnosis wrong and sending him home. This is what messed up his kidneys and bladder and had him wearning Depends the rest of his life. It is true that he had prostate cancer for nearly 5 years and dementia for at least that long. But the to tell the truth, his death was unexpected and took most of us by shock. In spite of his cognitive challenges, his detachment from reality and walking gait, he was in fact extremely physically strong. Speaking of his heart and lungs mainly he carried his own. His spoken syntax was perfect although his lack of understanding of the questions in a conversation made communication difficult. He would often clearly answer or respond to something that was unrelated to the question. Something that will always sadden me is the final days , weeks, months and years were not very pleasant. Family members were becoming annoyed with his daily living missteps, his stubbornness, his perceived disregard of house rules. He was keenly aware that his cognitive dots were not connecting. He would fight back and say, “No, you are all wet!” But, I knew he was agonizing that he was losing and was not going to get better. No doubt in my mind that I wish I was kinder during this. This is something that no matter what, will constantly be reflected upon and asked,
“How could we have been better caretakers?” “What would we want if we had these horrible illness?”
I went to Chicago on the weekend of November 16th and 17th to attend a 2-day training seminar that I have to do every 2 years to maintain my real estate broker’s license. At noon the first day, I got a message from my sister that my mother said my father had some sort of injury in the home. At the time I misunderstood that it was serious enoughfor me to act and went right back into my class that afternoon. The day I left Freeport, which I rarely do, my biggest concern was the bathtub. Over my constant objections, both of my parents are insistent on taking a bath and not a shower with an assist stool. I did not feel that it is safe, especially with me not being in the house. I She grabbed the rubber stopper for the tub and took it with me so the tub could not be filled. I never thought I would have to worry about a dog. I spoke with my sister again and then realized it was much more serious. Then, I rushed back to Freeport which is about 2 hours drive. When I got home, I found my father bleeding and on the floor of the garage. My mother had kept him warm with a space heater and covered with a blanket. For some reason which I may understand later, she felt it best to have me come home and lift him in the car and drive him to the hospital. My father outweighs me significantly and I cannot lift him without assistance. His injuries were much more serious that initially thought. I immediately called 911 and the fire department took him to the hospital.
My father who acted out both loudly and physically had a very contentious relationship in an otherwise gentle dog because of this. He would physically attack the dog and other fellow humans. This is a sad part of the disease. The dog would not tolerate this and would involve herself even if it just a raised voice. After the barking dog was separated, he would often point at her with his hand into a pistol and say, “Die, dog! Die, dog!” Certainly, this is not the best judgement, but dementia is a very disabling disease that causes people to do things that are not in the best interest. A dog who can injure someone as she did should almost certainly be euthanized in most people’s opinions including me. The dog who is kept as an (unregistered) emotional support animal for another family, bit my father causing extremely severe injuries. The bites were on his left heel and both hands. There were at least three bone fractures between his two hands. I do not know the exact circumstances as to what precipitated the altercation because I was out of town when it happened. My father was in the garage because my mother felt it was safest to get a door between an angry protective dog and my father. The surgeon required to operate on his type of hand injuries is not at the Freeport hospital. St. Anthony and Mercy in Rockford were contacted and there was no surgeon on that day. One was found at UW health, so he was prepared and taken an hour and 20 minutes north to Madison, Wisconsin late that evening. My mother and I went to Madison early the next morning and on the other days. The palliative care doctor explained to us that he was dying and although conscious, he was not being responsive enough to tasks like swallowing and communicating. We were told best case several months, weeks or worst cast days.
In O’Leary tradition, I returned to work. We often talk of in what circumstances we would take a day off. We do not take time off to grieve. It is not our way. We do take time off when we are needed to be in two places at the same time. With my father in the hospital, he was being cared for by top doctors and he was covered. As a matter of fact, my sisters were preparing to come to Wisconsin or Illinois immediately and I told him them they should wait as I thought it was too early and did not want them to have to make second trip to the Midwest. I told my father’s sister who is in her 90s about his condition and prognosis and on Thanksgiving Day, told my other relatives the status. Certainly, I wanted to stay ahead of the ball and was planning to visit Schwarz funeral home for pre-planning that Saturday thinking sometime around January, I would be dealing with all this.
It was Thanksgiving break from my school district job, but I drive school bus for sporting events. I was assigned to drive the Boy’s basketball team to Rockford East for a game Friday, November 23rd to depart Freeport at 7:30 in the morning. I am pretty paranoid about being late or mechancal issues so I always tend to get to work earlier than usual. I was at the McDonalds ordering my coffee fix and a biscuit snack for the trip to Rockford. My cell phone rang at 6:23 and it was the University Hospital in Madison. The told me that my father had stopped breathing and was declared deceased at 6:08. I completely forgot my order I just paid for and drove just 5 minutes back to my house. I told my mother what had happened and told her it was a school holiday and I must get back to the bus garage and get the bus ready for the basketball team. I promised I would send someone to the house as soon as I arrived in Rockford and could call. I texted my boss at the bus garage at 6:32 not thinking she would see it for hours and just tossed the phone in my bag and left for work. When I arrived 5 minutes later in to grab my keys and my paperwork, I happened to check my text and my super cool boss had texted me back the second after I sent my text. She said she was already on getting a substitute driver and it would be taken care of. She walked right into the office just then. How quick was that on holiday! It meant so much to me that I saw two other people at that moment when I was so lost. Another lady was preparing her bus for her trip. It gave me strength to finish my day and do what I had to do. I went back out to my car and called my two sisters and our pastor. As soon as I was finished, only then my knees buckled and I had to wait in the parking lot of my workplace for a few minutes until I felt the strength to drive. I drove straight to Schwarz Funeral Home and woke up Don Russell and said, “Good Morning, change of plans.”
At the present time, the dog I spoke of is still alive. I had 12 gauge, 16 gauge and 20 gauge shells in my hands and was prepared to drive out into the country and do what I needed to do. I was prepared to also possibly have the veterinarian euthanize the dog. What is really difficult is you cannot do something like that so simply. The dog must be kept in quarantine for 10 days and it can be in the home. We did this. My mother who certainly is not a dog person does not wish the dog to put down. The dog is extremely affectionate and protective of her. Perhaps the dog’s company is helping her cope with the change. It is a complex situation that only we can navigate right now. Some people want to give us all kinds of advice on this issue, but it is the last thing we need now. My family has been very supportive and pretty much quiet on this which I personally am grateful for. Although my father died of natural causes, we cannot forget that the incident with the dog did not help. Knowing that my dog can cause injury to adults is something that will change our lifestyle forever. The freedom the dog once had has been significantly curtailed. Although my friends and family have been so supportive of us during this, I have one friend that is a self-proclaimed dog expert and I have had to tell her to please stay the F away from my dog. Her help is not welcome. My veterinarian knows what I am feeding the dog, how tight her harness is and what games not to play with a potentially aggressive dog. He certainly did not advise me to socialize the dogs with everyone who pops over to my house.
This is my therapy. I needed to write this and get this off my mind and move forward. I am now onto the next family crisis and it is a big one.
http://www.schwarzfh.com/obituary/william-oleary
The Great Global Divide 