I was reminded today about something my Mom taught me (albeit the hard way) when she was getting close to the end. We got into this huge fight when she told me she was going to stop chemo that only stopped when she yelled "It's not about what you want, it's what I want." I mean seriously; what do you say to that?
This past week I've watched Dad deal with the realization that not only is he never going to be able to live independantly, he's "one of those people" (his words not mine) that have to have someone else wipe his ass and change his diaper. I haven't figured out which is worse for him- that he needs them or that he did it to himself; I do believe though that he's accepted his fate. He's not depressed, he's not giving up... he understands what the deal is ...and for now is ok with the way things are.
There is a big difference between being depressed and accepting the inevitable. Dad asked for the DNR and the Advanced Directive on his own. He waited to sign them until we taked about everything. He signed them in front of two medical professionals that also had to sign off on his mental status. So why do they keep asking him if he's changed his mind? Why are they surprised when he gets angry that he has to keep repeating the same decisions over and over again? He even asked me one day this week "How many times do I have to tell them to let me die, not to save me?"
Tonight he asked me how far I'd gotten on the house. I stalled for time by taking his cell phone & adding Shawn's & the lawyer's phone numbers in (he doesn't answer calls he doesn't recognize). I took a deep breath & told him about sending things to CHKD, how long it took me to drag everything out of the truck at the e-recyling place b/c I was being careful w/ the stuff (why?!?!?), that Shawn had the extra key...yadda yadda yadda. Not really answering his question but not really blowing him off either. I looked up when he got unusally quiet - thinking he'd fallen asleep again only to see him attempting to wipe away a tear. I didn't want to embarrass him so I didn't say anything - nor did he for a second or two. "You've got people I don't even know helping me & the ones I do know only call when they want something."
"Hey now, I thought you said no crying allowed when you called Sunday."
"I'm not crying" he smiles as he finally manages to wipe it away. "and don't you tell those clipboard women either - they already ask too many stupid questions." then he gets that sneaky smile on his face. "What was it that Mom said about crying?"
...it took me a minute but I had to laugh. "There's no crying in dying." No howling, boo hooing, fake snot blowing, throwing your body on the casket crap. ...there's too much to do for any of that stuff - don't make me come back and haunt you." or something along those lines - it has been awhile you know. :)
It was only then that I realized it has to be pretty liberating to know "what's what" so to speak. No more what if we do this or if I don't do that... "yep" he giggles "what can they do to do to me now? I can tell them I don't want to (re: those 'friends' asking for money) ...or even worse to ask you!" and he starts laughing so much that... well it's not funny anymore.
Love you too Dad, love you too!
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