Yesterday was a gorgeous June day. Perfect weather and Ken felt strong enough to go out in the afternoon. so we got in the car and took a little trip. We spent the afternoon visiting my Dad and our friend, Patrick, at the hospital.
My Dad is still with us. Dying is such an interesting process. Two weeks ago, I thought he was taking flight on angel wings, but yesterday he was watching a baseball game on the television. He has rallied so much, the hospital is requiring him to leave. Yeah. You read that right. Dad has to go somewhere else. Like he can catch a bus to go somewhere to do his dying business.
The poor man is too weak to sit in a chair. His breathing is so heavy he gasps for air when he does the slightest movement, and the damn hospital is making him leave. Unbelievable! It seems the hospice care unit doesn’t make enough money, so they do this to dying patients when they deem their stay has been too long. Because my Dad hasn’t died on their schedule, he is being sent away when he needs the care most. It’s true. Money makes the world go ’round and the rest be damned.
Deep down, my Father is hoping to go home. I think once my sister arranges a 24-hour hospice nurse for him, he will feel safe and ready to die in the corner of the world he built with his own hands. He’ll be surrounded by pictures of his loved ones, and he’ll have familiar things surrounding him. I hope for his sake, my sister can arrange for him to go home. I know he will be happier there than a nursing home.
Another person we love is also in the hospital, so after my Dad feel asleep for an afternoon nap, we got into the elevator and went to the second floor to see Patrick. This year has been so difficult for him. He’s suffering the mean stage of Type l diabetes and has had several surgeries, has had to go on dialysis, and has had complications with medications. Because things haven’t gone exactly as the doctors have anticipated, he’s suffered for it.
Medicine doesn’t seem to be an exact science, does it? There’s a human spirit which has some say in our fate, and unfortunately, it seems the medical “INDUSTRY” doesn’t recognize that factor. Just because a person doesn’t fit into a preordained medical box, they are pushed aside as if it were their fault. Too bad we can’t go back to the days when older people were respected and their doctors knew there was more to good health than medication and test results. There was human empathy and medicine was a profession.