Update on dad: decision made

This morning starting at 3am, I was faced with the decision to take my dad
off of his oxygen supply. It was an anguishing decision...more anguish than
I have ever had to face or experience. As I prayed, I felt more and more
uneasy. Where was the peace that passes all understanding. Dad's condition
had deteriorated so much over the course of the week, that I thought this
decision was already made for us. Even my mom agreed that it was time. His
kidneys had failed, his lungs were on the highest level of oxygen, and now
his mental state was unresponsive. If only we could ask dad for
himself...i really believe I knew what he would have wanted...to go home to
be with Jesus.

The nurse yesterday wanted to put him on a drug that would ease his
suffering and begin the process of taking him off the oxygen. The nurse
last night wanted to start him on morphine to easy his suffering. She was
concerned that his cough was too hard and too often for him to tolerate. I
must admit, it was very difficult to watch my dad have those coughing
spells. But then I remembered that for the last four weeks, the entire
staff was concerned that he wasn't coughing hard enough. Now that he was
coughing, they wanted to drug him to suppress it, not to mention that these
are the drugs that had damaged his kidneys. Why not? He is about to die,
why not ease his suffering. But then I never did believe that coughing was
synonymous with suffering. I'm sure that chronic coughing can cause one to
suffer, but dad's coughing was no more than what most patients who have
pneumonia experience. You certainly don't put them on morphine, if you want
them to get better...this doesn't take a doctoral degree to determine.

I didn't realize that if I didn't follow the nurses recommendation, that I
would be accused of cruel treatment of a patient...and this patient happens
to be my dad. I was amazed...everyone around me was appalled that I would
allow my dad to cruelly suffer like that. Then I realized that I needed a
definition for suffering. I asked the nurses, but they could not give me a
definition...how subjective I thought...each patient gets their dose of
morphine based on how much the nurse thinks he's suffering...regardless
of how that medicine might effect his organs and mental state.

Combat...staring me down with the accusation that I was being cruel...i
asked her to explain what was cruel. She couldn't. Then she pulled the
patient advocate on me. She stared me down..."my responsibility is to the
patient," she said. I said "That's good. Then you can follow my dad's
desires that
he doesn't want any medication that will impair him mental status." End of
discussion. She was ticked...I wasn't backing down. She wanted to drug him
to make her night easier...she should find a different occupation.

As I looked at my dad at 3am, I was certain that I needed to take him off
the
oxygen..we all were. My dad would soon be with the Lord. I held his hand,
his head, his heart in my hand...i cannot express the love I have for my
dad...it will take the rest of my lifetime to express that love...and now
that he is a child of the Savior, my love is amplified.

5am, 6am, 7am...i was exhausted. Very little sleep this entire week...my
sleep mechanism was altered. I was able to stay awake without caffeine. At
7:30 I fell asleep but was fighting to wake up...finally at 9:25 I awoke and
went quickly to dads room. I was upset that I had let so much time go
by...i wanted to have this over with before noon, so I could get my mother
home and we would have the rest of the day to mourn and plan for the
memorial service. As I walked into his room, everyone was sleeping--my mom,
sister, Debbie, and Jennifer. I held dads hand and noticed that his eyes
were wide open. He looked as though he had already passed on. As I
observed him, checking for his breathing, blood pressure, heart rate, I
realized that everything was at normal levels. His eyes were moving...
what did I have to lose, so I asked him what he wanted to do..."dad do you
want
to go and be with the Lord?" No response. "Dad, do you want to go home and
be with mom?" A definite nod of his head...and a repeated nod of his
head--YES.
Debbie had just walked up to the bed and witnessed the questions and
answers. Then the doctor walked in. "AJ, do you want to continue fighting
for your life?" asked the doctor. What we were about the experience was
totally unexpected. Dad began to nod vehemently and almost lifted himself
off the bed. For the past seven days, dad has showed almost no response.
This was his moment; his performance. Unless the doctor was convinced that
this was dad's coherent response, he would not continue treatment. The
doctor looked up at us, and said, "It would be unethical to continue with
removing any life support. This man has the will to get well and that is
what we need to do."

God has given us another day. Tomorrow, He may take dad to Himself...today,
we get to be with our beloved dad and papa and enjoy the life that has given
us all so much joy and security all our lives. Thank you Lord, thank you
dad! Life truly is in the hand of God...our God is a great mystery...that is
why He is God.

Daniel 5:23 "Our breath is in the hand of God."