Smoke, Smoke, Smoke that cigarette

So here I am at my father's deathbed.....It has been the longest road I have ever traveled. It started Sept. 1st with the onset of pneumonia (what my uncle calls the old person's gift). Dad went into the hospital on Sept. 2nd and had to be intubated. He has been struggling with COPD for years now and a recent colonoscopy revealed cancer. So the final steps in the journey began. Within 36 hours the tube was removed and Dad was moved out of ICU in the next 48. On a new wing he needed round the clock supervision because he was getting out of bed without the proper assistance. One nurse escorted him to the bathroom with no oxygen and upon his return to bed he was again struggling for that last breath. I went home on Sunday Sept. 8 to be with my husband on a bike ride. Therefore, my absence began. I went back to work for two days and got the call that Dad was being brought home for hospice care. I quickly set up for a sub and headed for Modesto.

When I arrived, the bed was just getting to my parents' house. However, hospice did not bring a kamode. Dad would not arrive for yet another hour. Once he did the flurry began. That night was rough. I stayed up to make sure that when Dad had to go to the bathroom that he had help. He got up three times and each time presented new challenges. Dad could not make it to the bathroom on the second go so he suggested I get a pot out of the kitchen. He sat on that pot on a wheelchair for nearly 10 minutes. It must have been so painful. The kamode was delivered the next day. Days and nights of up and down on the kamode, with each trip requiring more and more assistance. Until finally, my father did not have an ounce of privacy left. 

Medication became the primary focus. Two divergent opinions started to arise: pain versus lucidity. Mom was convinced that Dad was being over medicated. Jay firmly believed that pain meds should be on board at all times. Jay, speaking from a recent experience in the hospital with appendicitis. Mom wanting every last moment with Dad possible. I could see both sides and tried to mediate. However, you know how the story goes with three persons in a quandary. One always feels ganged up on since the other two agree. I was trying to present Mom's opinion, thus leaving Jay to believe that he was being sided against. Then the ax hit the tree: Mom's friend, Helen, came over and started giving Mom and I hope that Dad had a possibility of recovery and that we needed to ask questions about his care. She validated both Jay and Mom's feelings. So I thought we might have common road. It was an impasse! Jay was extremely upset that Helen came in and disrupted his little world. Once Helen left, Jay was in a rage. 

It was at this point that I noticed Dad's heart rate had gone up to 150. He has been there ever since. The nurse was called and she rescued and normalized the situation. We asked about medication and she gave us answers. Mom now felt calm and started to accept that Dad's condition was only going to get worse. We started heavily medicated Dad to cope with the high heart rate. It was then that Jay expressed his concerns over visitors in the house. I felt he was out of bounds because Helen is a support for Mom. Both Jay and I had our loved ones come over to boost our moral and Mom deserved the same. I tried to express this to Jay and he lost it. Meanwhile Mom is in the background frantically searching for a plastic butter dish that had gone missing. She was convinced I had placed it somewhere and was insisting on finding it. God help us! WE all were hungry because none of us had eaten all day. I kept telling Jay let's eat first so we can talk calmly. It was too late. 

Jay set about telling me I had all but abandoned my parents. I haven't spent enough time with them and that I have consistently insulted my mom with my broken filter. I have called her food salty, commented on her mother's bowls, and told her that when I was little that I would tell people I was adopted because of the clothes I had. I don't remember that last statement, but maybe I said it in one of my drunken stupors many years ago. Thank God I quit drinking! I don't even remember thinking such a thing. So I looked at my mom and she then let it out on me. Now the carving began. They both proceeded to split me open like a roast pig and let the innards spill out. I wanted to run. I wanted to scream, but Dad was in there dying....God worked through me and kept me calm. Finally, I got them to stop. I apologized for my diarrhea of the mouth. We were about to go in and eat and Jay still couldn't give up. He had to say that he hoped things would be different once Dad died. That I would be more present, but that he didn't think it would happen. I lost it and started in on him and Mom chased us outside. He began telling me that my visits were meaningless because everything I do bugs Mom anyway. I couldn't take it anymore. Here is a man who just left the wings of his mother five years ago. Of course I could never hold a candle to him. He has been attached at the hip to them all his life. He has no friends aside from his girlfriend. Mom and Dad are his only social connection. This goes for my parents as well. While they have their coffee group, they really have no other relationships outside of the one with my brother and me. It is true that I have been slipping away in the last two years as I have taken up cycling. I look to every weekend day as an opportunity to get out on the road. Therefore, I stopped coming out on a monthly basis and fell to every other month. For that I feel sad. I didn't even call when my dad had his colonoscopy (the onset of this very unfortunate turn of events). So Jay hit a nerve because yes he is right. I have started to become absent. I have been rationalizing it in my mind saying that they didn't even call me when they moved to Wyoming and let me stay in Colorado for my senior year of high school. That when I tried to commit suicide, no one stayed in the hospital with me then. That I don't feel that close to them. 

I have a connection with my dad, but even that has been fading. I have been calling, but not often enough. I have been arranging get togethers with them, but not enough. I have fallen short of what I know I should have done. Now I am at another impasse. How will I possibly kindle a relationship with these two? They have an incestuous relationship that is not that healthy. They sit around commiserating about how the world has mistreated them. And they do this as they smoke, smoke, smoke those cigarettes. They left Dad for hours on end only to sit in front of the hospital and smoke and bitch. Mom has been filling my brother's ears with the injustices that I have committed. I have insulted her mother's bowls, called her Nurse Ratchet in jest, and told her that she needs to connect the dots. That she needs to see that this is her end story. She will grasp for her last breath just like Dad. But you know, the drug is so powerful. It makes you believe that it won't do that to you. So go ahead and smoke, smoke, smoke that last cigarette.

So God I have one question: Why the design flaw? Why do we have addictions?