My dad

Two weeks ago this evening I got a phone call from my brother in the evening. He was calling to tell me my dad had fallen in the shop, hit his head, was in the hospital and they had decided to not really do anything for him. Neither of us really knew anything at this point. My next phone call was about a half an hour later from my mom who was at the hospital with dad. She told me he wasn't expected to make the night and I should probably come down. So, at about 8:30 p.m. we packed up our family and made a middle of the night drive (7-8 hours) down to my parent's house. Tom and I could only make it about half way before we had to stop and get a motel so we could crash for a couple of hours. We left again about 4 a.m. and made it to the hospital at 8 a.m. Dad was still there, but in body only. His last response to anything had been when Mom held the phone out to him and I told him I loved him and that this was a hell of a way to get us to plan a family trip. And that response was with his hand only. Apparently when he hit his head he vomitted and ingested a bunch into his lungs. We spent Wednesday with Dad. He got a cat scan that showed lots of bleeding on his brain. We all decided to make him comfortable with morphine and let his body relax and go when it was ready. He died Thursday morning about 11 a.m. I was in bed with a fever of about 103 degrees. In some ways I'm thankful for this because when I got the news there really wasn't much response I could give. A fever like that makes you kinda numb to the world. It sure is the pits to loose your parent, but at the same time I am very glad Dad went now while he was still able to do things. He was diagnosed with a form of Muscular Dystrophy a few years back and he was headed downhill in a hurry. The last couple of months he's been in the wheelchair almost 95% of the time. When I saw his legs in the hospital he had to have been standing and walking with sheer willpower because there were no muscles to support him. At least Dad should have good legs under him again and be enjoying the happy hunting gounds. Also, Mom is still in the cabin Dad built her, surrounded by their friends and neighbors. If you feel the need to do something Mom asked that something be planted in his memory or that a donation to the Muscular Dystrophy Association be made. www.mda.org