Current Status

My wife's father died this year.

It woould be easy to call him my Father in Law, but he was more than that, he was Daddy to a little girl, to 2 little girls - for many years. Then he bacame Papaw to his grandchildren and great grandchildren.

Somewhere in the mix, he became my Father in Law, my friend.

We watched this giant of a man slowly change until he was a wisp of his former self. Then, when he was barely here...he suddenly wasn't.

It wasn't quick, but he was gone far too soon.

Sometimes, we are in a store, and she sees something that reminds her of her Dad; some old style candy, reads a silly verse, hears a song, and she misses him. I guess that will always happen. She really loved her Father - he was an incredibly good man.

Now my Dad is the one we watch. He has lost weight, has a hard time getting around, and we are starting all the testing to determine where he is in this journey.

It was a long haul with my Father in Law, and this one is just starting.

This is the official story to date -

He retired from the Postal Service a few years back, has had back surgery, two hip replacements, a shoulder replacement, cataract surgery, and elbow surgery. Somewhere in this mix may have been a stroke, but details are not real clear, as he has a pacemaker and is unable to have an MRI.

He has Non-Alcoholic Cirrhosis of the Liver (Cirrhosis is scarring of the Liver), also called Primary Biliary Cirrhosis (PBC). The PBC causes his blood to be "out of whack" and can give pre-luekemia (Myelodysplasia) symptoms. In addition, he has an extremely high level of ammonia in his blood.

He has also been diagnosed with "Slow Stomach" or Gastroparesis, again - this is sometimes associated with Cirrhosis.

He uses a walker, and is in pain from the arthritis all over his body (in particular, spinal stenosis), and the herniated disk in his neck that has calcified and pressing against the spinal column, causing wekness in his extremeties.

Sometimes when we talk, he is there - he is still the same man I have known my entire life. Sometimes, he is not. We have not been able to establish a pattern yet to determine what causes the good days or bad, but we are "mapping" them.

Other than the slow stomach causing near spontaneous vomiting, he is doing a little better, at least we are a little more informed.

The only real change has been the medical - he was a recipient of our wonderful government managed halth care system for Veterans, and it nearly took him from us. Only after we got him into reputable civilian doctors did we get better response, better treatment and more choices.

He is only 73, but he seems 10 yrars older, and more feeble.

No fancy words or rhetoric today - just how it is.

I called him, he answered and we talked awhile. I try to avoid too much info at one time - it can get confusing.

So, here it is - the current status,

I hope, I pray, this is the bottom, that life will only get better from here...

We were idiots...

We were idiots...we never thought we would live this long, we never thought we would grow up, and people would count on us, depend upon us...


Horrible motorcycle accidents, sliding on pavement, seeing cars race by my head while I rolled out of the way...sticking my arm out at 60 mph trying to knock down a traffic barrier, getting ripped off the back of the bike and ending up a tangled mess in a ditch...


Walking away...


Riding off a small "cliff" - fearless, hitting the ground so hard the frame breaks...this time I felt it...


Limping away...


Somehow we survived.


We grew up, cut our hair, became old and uncool...and settled down...thankful the days of stupid challenges are over.


I chose engineering, I like the predictability. Challenges can be calculated away, solutions are always planned, if -then statements rule...no heart ache...no surprises...and certainly no danger...


I don't like unpredictability - I strain at a gnat and ignore the elephant...


So here I am, older, greyer, a little slower...but on the inside...


I am 17 again - long hair blowing in the wind, riding with a purpose, and when needed...fearless...


Perhaps I can use this strength when the harder times arrive...I have learned to conceal the fear, God knows I can stand and scream at the enemy while shaking on the inside...perhaps the rebellion has become something I can count on, something others can depend upon...I will not leave...I will not change...


It's hard when it isn't your battle.


I want to give my Dad all my strength, take him back to his younger years. He was a good man, should have been a great man.


Me - well, I am no "chip off the old block..."


I am the guy that struggles to have faith, while standing behind my Dad in this assembly line of life. I see the inevitable, and I am not afraid...but I fight...this is not right, good men are supposed to live forever...not fade away...


I don't get it...


I grew up hearing all the stories about miracle events...where are they now?


If anyone deserves a miracle, it is the good people, the ones full of faith.


If it were possible, I would jerk him back from the edge of the abyss and stand in his place...I fear what I will be after he is gone...when I stand alone...


I know this is supposed to be about him and his struggle, but I missed so many years in my pursuit. I missed the years with him. Always too busy to go with him when asked to go fishing, to go to ball games...my visits were short and usually tucked in between projects...


Too much at stake, too many mountains to climb...too many dreams to chase...


Now I need to make it count.


Maybe my heart is just sorry for the missed times and I am trying to make myself into some hero in order to deal with it.


Maybe I just need to slow down and listen to him.


We were together recently, I spent a few hours with him, took him to get his hair cut. We just chatted, enjoyed ourselves. I try not to ever make him feel indebted to me, after all, it is my debt that is so large.


I'll never forget...


One time when I was a much younger man, he extended a loan to me. In order to repay, I was making monthly payments to him. In the mean time, I struggled with who I was, and did God really have any place in my life? Was he who I thought he was? Who I hoped he was? Did he really love me?


I prayed I would receive an answer...


Then when I approached my father to give him the latest payment...


He said, "Your debt has been paid...you owe me nothing..."


I did not understand...


He said, "I paid your debt for you, there is nothing you can do to pay it off."
"But I owe you," I said...
And he said, "I know...but that is what grace is all about. I extended the loan, then paid it off, you can do nothing...it is bigger than you...and it is over..."


I learned a little about God that day...


That is what it is all about...grace...mercy...


I am still learning...still growing...hopefully, still changing...

Lights on the horizon

I fell off the ship...

Somehow I found a piece of driftwood, a scrap of a someone else's journey, I hold onto for dear life.

The ship is now long gone, even though sometimes in the dark I still hear the sounds I left behind.

All I can do now is hold tight to what I see, what I feel.

And Hope...

My Dad received some medication to assist with the ammonia levels, it seems to be working, slowly. The dementia symptoms are fading, but others have taken their place.

What is this legion of health issues we face? Can someone just step in and take care of them, all at once?

If only that were true...

The stories I grew up hearing, provide little more than entertainment when reality is before us. Perhaps we can wish...and we hope...and we hope...and we hope...

But we know, if we don't do something, nothing will happen.

We can hold on to the piece of castaway driftwood, and hope the almighty tide will take us somewhere good...

Or we can hang on and start paddling, looking for the lights on the horizon, and set our course and minds to live, to succeed, to win.

What does it mean to win?

We made it to the horizon, we walked up on the beach of life, dragging our exhausted selves to a safe area, and collapse.

Only long enough to catch our breath - then we start again - too many people counting on us, got to do the right thing, whether it is understood or not, must press on.

We are in a lull - the storm is not raging, and I hope the lights on the horizon are not a mirage.

I think we are getting somewhere now...

Perhaps the rambling is too much - let me cut to the chase.

My Dad appears to be doing better, although his liver is still failing, and he has received another serious dignosis from the GI doctor - his mind is a little more clear than before.

He is still feeble and frail.

I feel I need to protect him, I owe it to him, he is my father.

As hard as it is for me, he has had the grace and strength to face his issues without waivering.

I am learning about strength...he teaches me still.

And I am paddling...looking for the lights on the horizon.