I have not had my hysterical breakdown, my sustained ugly cry yet. I have had moments of tears and some sobs. But not as much as I had thought or maybe even wanted. I thought at first because I had to be person in chrage.
It was a flurry of activities from last Friday, April 12 to Tuesday, April 16. One had to arrange for the mortuary and funeral services. One had to coordinate with the hospital for the settlement of the bills and the release of the body and the death certificate. Thankfully, Tatay had a life plan that covered some of the expenses. But more importantly, they (The service provider) assisted me from start (pick-up of body from hospital) all the way to burial. Loyola Lifeplan and its service provider, Santuarium, were very professional and helpful. I cannot thank them enough.
It seems almost surreal now. I was there when the doctors and nurses tried to revive him. I was there as they wrapped his body. I had to go down to the hospital morgue to ID his body before it was taken away (they might pick up the wrong body!). Late afternoon, I checked on him again, to approve his appearance, especially his make up. I didn’t like to be the one to do this because I honestly didn’t know how to judge whether it was done correctly or not. Tatay had lost so much weight so even using his pictures as reference was inadequare. Yet my Ate No. 2 didn’t want to accompany me (because that meant leaving my mom). Thankfully, the base appearance was improved. Visitors also commented how well he looked.
Then I was on full event organizer mode as the wake details were being planned. My biggest concern was the food. How does one plan for the feeding of thousands (I exaggerate)? I have to give myself credit for executing that well, including the logistics and venue set-up. (We were so fortunate to have been allowed to hold the wake at the nearby Home for the Elderly, run by nuns. Tatay used to be their doctor.)
And as all of that was going on, I also had to entertain the visitors, especially from my side (colleagues and friends). Telling the story over and over and over again to different people!
Then came the plans for the funeral Mass, and that trip to the cemetery to bury him. I thought this would be my breakdown scene. I even decided not to sing at the mass. But I surprised myself by being so composed, managing to even be lector and singer.
Heritage Park is quite far from our place. But that was where we were able to get a lot. If I had my way, I would have had him cremated and his ashes at the columbary near our Parish. But he explicitly did not want cremation.
It was super warm and sunny that Holy Tuesday. By 2pm, the funeral convoy had reached the park. We started the last blessings and viewing by 230pm. Though sunny, there was a nice breeze all around us. A handful of friends and family joined us. There was a lot of crying, except me. I was holding up very well, till they lowered the casket six feet below. And we all solemnly went home, mindful most of all of our mom’s condition.
With all that over, there still wasn’t any major breakdown. tried to induce crying. I listened to my playlist of super sad songs. I watched “Dad”, that 1989 movie of Jack Lemmon and Ted Danson about father and his son. Yes, I teared up but again, limited waterworks. I remember crying much more when I broke up with an ex. I was thinking that would be the level of my anguish.
Did I love him less? Is there something wrong with me? Have I become this husk of a person? Ok, a bit over the top. But now, after almost two weeks, I have stopped wanting to cry. I suppose it would just come. And even if it wouldn’t, it didn’t mean any of that nonsense.
I love you, Tatay and I miss you terribly. i honor you for being a humble yet exemplary doctor who brought healing, humor and genuine concern to your patients. I hold you in the higheat esteem for being a loving husband and dedicated father to us. I have the distinct pleasure of serving you and being with you to the very end of your mortal life. I hope that when my own time comes and we meet in heaven, you will tell me that I have made you proud.
Till that time, Tatay.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad
Friday, April 26, 2019
Friday, April 19, 2019
Endgame: It Is Done.
When it finally happened, I was there in his hospital room asleep. I was awaken as the nurse and the caregiver were hovering over him, checking for pulse. It was 1:11am, April 12.
He had considerably weakened from that last hospital stay. His oxygen levels were low. He finally relented and allowed 24/7 oxygen. We wanted to get him a full-time nurse but none passed his standards. He became very particular about many aspects of his care. Only his night-time caregiver measured up.
That frustrated me. He insisted that the household help be the one taking care of him, as they already knew how to. I tried to reason with him that this would tax them, and they wouldn’t be able to perform their duties to Nanay and to the household. But he wouldn’t take it. I relented. Besides, my sister (Ate No. 2) was consistently watching over, too, together with Ate No. 4. And Ate No. 1, our doctor-sister, flew in from the US since end-March, so I knew he was around expert care.
April 6, c3 and I left for Zambales as planned. That was also the time his gasping attacks started happening. He would suddenly start having difficulty in breathing, literally gasping for breath, even as he was taking in oxygen. It was a like a panic attack with his heart rate racing. The only thing they could do was to increase oxygen flow and tell him to relax. Ate No. 1 listened in on his lungs and concluded pulmonary edema. His systems were now compromised and his heart was working overtime. Heart failure was imminent. Ate No. 2 was relating all this to me and how scared they were that he might go soon. But I reassured her that this wasn’t time yet. Tatay will wait for me to come home.
I was back April 8 evening. I made it a point to stay with him the following day, April 9, a holiday, I witnessed for myself the attacks. It was painful to watch and everybody felt so powerless to prevent it from happening. Thankfully, after a few minutes, he would calm down.
But April 10 evening was different. His gasping attack had not stopped, 20 minutes and counting. The caregiver and I were beside him, trying to calm him down. Yet he wouldn’t. His whole body was jerking and stiffening. We called 911 and brought him to the emergency room. He eventually relaxed, the gasping stopped when he was there. All they did was administer oxygen using the mask. His doctor insisted that he stay for tests, to check what was causing these attacks. He grudgingly agreed (he hated having to go back to the hospital.
April 11, he hardly had any rest or sleep even as he was in the hospital. The attacks would continue. The tests showed there was nothing major that was causing the fits. Though he did need another round of blood, it couldn’t be the reason. It seemed that it was really a psychological anxiety attack. And the only solution for him was to relax.
That evening was my turn to sleep over at the hospital. He specifically requested that a family member should be with him constantly. I arrived at the hospital and he was still restless. He was now complaining of some allergic reaction or side effect that rendered him unable to speak properly. We tried to check what was administered to him. He was then given a dose of antihistamine.
He slowly drifted to sleep and finally got to relax. Ate No. 2 went home. leaving me and the caregiver at the hospital. I also prepped and lied down on the bed beside h is. The caregiver kept vigil over his pulse rate and oxygen levels.
Past 1230am, she said she noted that a pulse, a heart rate couldn’t be detected anymore. She called the nurse to take his blood pressure. I woke up as the nurse came in. We all tried to check for pulse but couldn’t detect any. He didn’t seem to be breathing anymore. Caregiver and I tried to wake him up as the doctors and nurses arrived with the cardiac monitor. They immediately started CPR procedures on him, except for intubation (He explicitly refused that in his DNR [do not resuscitate] order). After about 3 minutes of this, at 133am, I asked them to stop. An ECG machine came in to certify his death.
I teared up a bit as I was calling my sisters to inform them of his passing. But that quickly passed. I kissed him on his forehead and prayed. I left the caregiver and the nuses to take care of the paperwork. I came back to witness his body being wrapped and taken to the morgue.
Numbness came over me by that time I got home, at around 230am. There was still a lot of work ahead. There was no time to grieve yet.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad
He had considerably weakened from that last hospital stay. His oxygen levels were low. He finally relented and allowed 24/7 oxygen. We wanted to get him a full-time nurse but none passed his standards. He became very particular about many aspects of his care. Only his night-time caregiver measured up.
That frustrated me. He insisted that the household help be the one taking care of him, as they already knew how to. I tried to reason with him that this would tax them, and they wouldn’t be able to perform their duties to Nanay and to the household. But he wouldn’t take it. I relented. Besides, my sister (Ate No. 2) was consistently watching over, too, together with Ate No. 4. And Ate No. 1, our doctor-sister, flew in from the US since end-March, so I knew he was around expert care.
April 6, c3 and I left for Zambales as planned. That was also the time his gasping attacks started happening. He would suddenly start having difficulty in breathing, literally gasping for breath, even as he was taking in oxygen. It was a like a panic attack with his heart rate racing. The only thing they could do was to increase oxygen flow and tell him to relax. Ate No. 1 listened in on his lungs and concluded pulmonary edema. His systems were now compromised and his heart was working overtime. Heart failure was imminent. Ate No. 2 was relating all this to me and how scared they were that he might go soon. But I reassured her that this wasn’t time yet. Tatay will wait for me to come home.
I was back April 8 evening. I made it a point to stay with him the following day, April 9, a holiday, I witnessed for myself the attacks. It was painful to watch and everybody felt so powerless to prevent it from happening. Thankfully, after a few minutes, he would calm down.
But April 10 evening was different. His gasping attack had not stopped, 20 minutes and counting. The caregiver and I were beside him, trying to calm him down. Yet he wouldn’t. His whole body was jerking and stiffening. We called 911 and brought him to the emergency room. He eventually relaxed, the gasping stopped when he was there. All they did was administer oxygen using the mask. His doctor insisted that he stay for tests, to check what was causing these attacks. He grudgingly agreed (he hated having to go back to the hospital.
April 11, he hardly had any rest or sleep even as he was in the hospital. The attacks would continue. The tests showed there was nothing major that was causing the fits. Though he did need another round of blood, it couldn’t be the reason. It seemed that it was really a psychological anxiety attack. And the only solution for him was to relax.
That evening was my turn to sleep over at the hospital. He specifically requested that a family member should be with him constantly. I arrived at the hospital and he was still restless. He was now complaining of some allergic reaction or side effect that rendered him unable to speak properly. We tried to check what was administered to him. He was then given a dose of antihistamine.
He slowly drifted to sleep and finally got to relax. Ate No. 2 went home. leaving me and the caregiver at the hospital. I also prepped and lied down on the bed beside h is. The caregiver kept vigil over his pulse rate and oxygen levels.
Past 1230am, she said she noted that a pulse, a heart rate couldn’t be detected anymore. She called the nurse to take his blood pressure. I woke up as the nurse came in. We all tried to check for pulse but couldn’t detect any. He didn’t seem to be breathing anymore. Caregiver and I tried to wake him up as the doctors and nurses arrived with the cardiac monitor. They immediately started CPR procedures on him, except for intubation (He explicitly refused that in his DNR [do not resuscitate] order). After about 3 minutes of this, at 133am, I asked them to stop. An ECG machine came in to certify his death.
I teared up a bit as I was calling my sisters to inform them of his passing. But that quickly passed. I kissed him on his forehead and prayed. I left the caregiver and the nuses to take care of the paperwork. I came back to witness his body being wrapped and taken to the morgue.
Numbness came over me by that time I got home, at around 230am. There was still a lot of work ahead. There was no time to grieve yet.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad
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