A Story of Grief, Dementia & Hospice
My Dad passed away in 2007 at 55 yrs old. Iāve wanted to write about grief for a while now, especially since I work with so many families facing loss but I couldnāt quite write about it without facing my own.
Near the end, my Dad was suffering from Alcohol Induced Dementia…before I even knew it was a thing. My Dad kept his illness from us….not the drinking, of course…but how bad it really was and that he knew he was dying. His Dementia came and went and it wasnāt until we got the call and took him to the hospital that we actually experienced how bad his Dementia was. Many families I work with donāt discover how bad Mom is until Dad gets sick. In fact, like many families, we were blindsided.
When we took Dad to the ER, they said there was nothing they could do for him and they had to send him home. That was a big problem! His roommate couldnāt take care of him and my siblings and I were young, single and working full time. There was no way we could take care of our Dad.
The ER Dr. pulled me aside and asked me if I knew how sick my Dad was…I didnāt. She said your Dad is dying and has maybe two weeks to live. With that news swirling around my head, I looked at my Dad who had no idea who I was and begged the Dr. to admit him. We had no resources and no idea what to do. Luckily my protest worked and the Dr. admitted him to the hospital. He died two weeks later, to the day.
Those two weeks were spent on auto-pilot. I went through my normal routine but added trips to the hospital, friends to watch my son and co-workers to cover my job. If it wasnāt for my Uncle, we wouldnāt have known a thing about Power of Attorney and that we needed it! During one of my Dadās lucid moments, we completed the paperwork and had it notarized.
Three days before he died, the Drās recommended hospice and my Dad was moved to the 7th floor. He never regained consciousness, as we know it, after that. Iām a firm believer that he could still hear us and he gave us signs that he could. A nurse came in and we told her that we thought he was communicating with us….she said that it was highly unlikely. At that exact moment…he kicked his leg very specifically and I said to him…we hear you Dad…we hear you! Weāll never know for sure of course…but I believe.
Not only did the ER Dr. save us but so did the Hospice staff. They were so supportive and generous. We felt as though they became an extension of our family. They helped us in the very difficult moments of our grief and even through the family disagreements that I think are inevitable, at such times. They continued their support through the first year after Dadās death…the toughest year.
Another person that helped immensely, was a co-worker of mine. He also happened to be a nurse. Feeling overwhelmed with the loss of my Dad, the weight of decision making and the stress of it all…I literally felt as though I was losing my mind. I think I may have actually asked him if thatās what was happening to me….and Iāll never forget what he said….You are not losing your mind, you are experiencing grief and every single thing you feel..no matter how crazy it may seem to you…is ok. Grief is very personal and your feelings are right for you.
Years have passed and Iāve said those words to many of families I work with, words that meant so much to me. Each year, at the end of September, I start to feel on edge, emotional… and then it hits me…itās that time…those two weeks…and I remind myself that itās ok…no matter what Iām feeling….and It is true that each year…it gets a little better.
