|Now cracks a noble heart.
||[Aug. 19th, 2006|11:08 pm]
Back in January, I talked about how my father went through two procedures, but never provided any follow up since that time. I don't like talking about bad things that heavily involve others because when I do so I feel like I am violating their privacy.
The past 7 months have been tiring. Although my father had been fighting Klippel Feil syndrome since diagnosed in 1992, a process which involved two brain surgeries in the 90's and left him with ever increasing pain and decreasing mobility, he managed to live life as a relatively independent individual. For years he lived life with a clear mind and without physical assistance.
The surgeries in January marked the end of that. My father never fully recovered from either of those January surgeries. For the first time in his life, he found himself wheel chair bound and dependent on others for basic necessities. This was a state he was dreading for years. He was plagued by a slew of infections. Worst of all, sometime in May he developed Hydrocephalus, or "Water On The Brain", which seriously compromised his cognitive capabilities and warped aspects of his personality.
The Hydrocephalus was just discovered a little over a week ago. By the time it was diagnosed, it was determined that the pressure had reached such a level that another surgery would be immediately necessary to prevent my father from lapsing into a coma. The surgery went as well as it could, but by this point his body had reached its limit. The major stroke that immediately followed the surgery did not help matters.
He spent another week in the hospital. On Thursday, his attending physician concluded that there was nothing more medically they could do for him, and arranged for him to be transfered to a local nursing home. On Friday, he was transfered.
Friday evening, after work, I went to check up on my mother and my father at the nursing home. His check in time was supposed to be 3:30, but the ambulance was late, so they had only arrived recently. My mother had stepped out of the room before I arrived so the nurses could weigh and bathe him. Some time had passed, so once I arrived she decided that we ought to see if they were finished with him. A nurse pulled us aside as we approached the door.
A few moments prior, while they were bathing him, my dad died.
Now cracks a noble heart. Good night sweet prince:
And flights of angels sing thee to thy rest!
-- Hamlet 5:2
As for arrangements, for those interested in that sort of thing:
We are not having a viewing. My father always thought those open-casketed things were barbaric, and he certainly wasn't a traditionalist.
The burial will happen on Saturday, 8/26, at St. Peter & St. Paul Cemetery. The burial will be followed by a luncheon. Times are yet to be determined. If you plan on attending the luncheon, please let me know so we can give the facility a rough headcount.