I have lost my father last February 10, 2017, Friday at 6:30PM.
We’ve been in and out of the hospital since October 23, 2016 due to heart attack and complications with his diabetes, kidney, and lungs.
It was a roller coaster ride for me. He had his heart attack 23rd of October, 2016, after a month I then lost my job. It, somehow, was a blessing in disguise because I was able to take care of my dad for the last few months of his life. I went back to my country and took care of my dad. My brother was there to help me out as well. He was the one helping out our mom while my sister and I were away. 14th of January, 2017 he was sent back to the hospital due to pneumonia. My dad was discharged after 9 days. 2 weeks after, he was supposed to have his check up with his pulmonary doctor but was already told to be admitted. He was not eating at all. The most that he can eat is 4 tablespoons full of food but tends to vomit after.
He was doing well in the regular room until they changed his catheter. He was unable to pee at that point and grew weak. I went home to take a bath and sleep for few hours since my mom and my brother were already there to look after my dad. After an hour or two of being home, I needed to go back to the hospital because I received a message from my brother that my dad will be sent to the ICU again and was already being intubated, and that only a machine is helping him to breathe.
To cut the story short, he was sent to the ICU, we were there from midnight of Wednesday. We were advised the next day that he needed fistula for dialysis and on the same day he was operated for that and had gone through dialysis an hour after given the fistula. Friday morning, he was supposed to have another session of dialysis but they cannot perform it because his blood pressure was too low. I went on to go to a client and had my mom look after him first. The dialysis was given but only for 2 hours instead of 3 because his heart rate dropped, his blood pressure was 70/50, and his oxygen level was at the lowest. I received a message that my dad was already being revived that time and so I had to rush back to the hospital. I got there too late. There was only a remaining 10 minutes to revive him. I was asked to have it stopped because my dad is already having a hard time and that his ribs will just be crushed due to the pressure, all I said was, “no.” That went on for the remaining minutes until they cannot do it all. He has given up and left us for good.
I wanted to do this blog, maybe not daily but at least twice a week, to release some tension, to let go of the thoughts that I cannot verbalize, to ease up the pain of losing a father, and maybe, to let other children realize that time is really essential and that all of us needs healing. That even if you expect things to happen, even if you think you are ready, sometimes life just hits you hard and crushes you with the thing that you thought you were ready to face. Time heals. Some takes just a minute, some for weeks, others takes months, years, decades, but for sure, time will help heal the wounds.