Lost My Grandfather on Good Friday
04-22-2014, 02:51 AM
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St. Jude Donor '14-'15
Lost My Grandfather on Good Friday
It is with an incredible amount of sadness that I must acknowledge the passing of my beloved grandfather on Good Friday, 4/18/2014.
Over a month ago, he was admitted to the hospital for minor respiratory issues. One thing continued to lead to another, and he contracted pneumonia during his stay in the hospital. He continued to fight (and remain conscious, aware, and ornery as ever) for 27 days in the ICU on a combination of BiPap and PosiVent treatments until Friday evening at 6:00p when his lungs failed and he was intubated. A few hours later, he went into cardiac arrest and passed at 9:00p as my father remained at his side.
Many of you had spoken to me during the ordeal, and keep him in your thoughts and prayers. I truly appreciate the outpouring of love and support. I truly don't know what to do at the moment, but I'm trying desperately to be strong for my father (a retired doctor who has witnessed thousands of people dying in the Navy as a FMF corpsman, as a firefighter, as a paramedic, and as a doctor). I was unable to get to the hospital in time, and my father, alone, was the one holding his hand as he faded out ... at the same time, assisting the crash team in bringing him back. Ultimately, his rate fell to the point of no return, and that was that...
My father and I wanted nothing more than for him to come out of there, and to be honest, it was looking like he would all through last week. We knew, though, that once he came out, he would be on a breathing machine, and we wouldn't be there 24/7 with him. He might have later (or sooner) passed away alone, afraid, and in pain. I was certainly not ready to give him up, but his body simply wore out.
It would take me a book's worth of writing to actually go through the story of his life... During WW2 and Korea, he was a naval aviator who rode down 4 planes, was captured and held, escaped, went to North Africa and was part of the group that held Port Lyautey, met the Pope (and accused him of stealing his rosary - that's a hilarious story)... He was the personal guard of Harry Truman for a period of time, spent a few days in Guantanamo Bay while the ship's captain worked to get him released... Made 'friends' with all of the pretty Mediterranean girls - the running joke is that we have family all over the world (or at least anywhere he sailed). He survived four major heart attacks beginning in 1993 and a quintuple bypass in 2004. Hell, we were told he even outlived his pacemaker...
He had an absolute wild ride from start to finish, and he did things his way.
Over the years, I've found myself to be very anti-religion. I was raised Catholic, attended Catholic schools, etc. and was nearly kicked out due to my ever-growing distaste of the organization. This ordeal, though, has seriously put my faith to the test. Admittedly, even through all of my fights with cancer, I never said a prayer - I felt it was unnecessary. Last Sunday (4/13 - or Palm Sunday for those who observe that), I was called to the hospital by the nurses who told me he was going to die within the day. I stayed there with him all day and night telling him everything I wanted and needed to, and listening to his last words of advice to me while gasping through a mask. After leaving, I broke down (quite literally, falling to my knees in the shower while sobbing uncontrollably) and decided that there was nothing to lose in asking for help. My prayer was a simple one - I wanted him to have one more good day to spend with family and friends, free of pain, etc. The next day (Monday), he was up, walking, moving, laughing, and on a normal oxygen tube... The doctors told me even after he had passed that it was simply not possible that a man in that condition could change that rapidly. They explained the 'surge' before death, but said his lungs had shriveled and weakened beyond any ability to breathe on his own, let alone sit, stand, or leave the bed. I can't explain it, and it's shaken my faith (or lack thereof) to the core. He was given (in total) five extra wonderful days to enjoy life, see old friends, eat Steak 'n Shake burgers, enjoy chocolate eggs (Easter candy), and even eat a triple raspberry sundae from his favorite ice cream shop.
The connection we shared isn't something I can describe... This has existed for as along as I can remember. This time around, I had a very vivid dream the night before he went in to the hospital that involved him saying goodbye to me... I was incredibly confused as it was too real, but wrote it off as simple worries manifesting via a loved one or thing (kind of like the 'crap I crashed my 'Vette - oh wait... phew' dreams)
. I remember being under my car installing the ECS SC kit the evening he went into the hospital. My heart hurt (I, too, have severe heart issues in addition to the cancer, etc), and I wrote a quick text to my father asking if he had spoken to grandpa. The response was obviously of utter shock, though I already knew the answer. After he texted back that he had gone to the hospital in an ambulance, I knew right then and there that he wasn't coming out - not that I was being pessimistic, but I realized that was much more than a dream. I sat there in my jumpsuit crying for nearly an hour trying to process everything... Fast forward to this Friday, his last day on this earth... Around 8:30p, my heart began to hurt quite badly. I slowly crawled up the stairs and called to my wife who then laid down on the bed with me while stroking my hair, monitoring my pulse, breathing, etc. We were just about to call an ambulance when my breathing improved, and the PVCs and tachycardic symptoms literally dissipated all at once (as if I had sprayed Nitro, which I don't take or have). She and I talked for a little while longer, and I didn't think much about it (other than I needed to call my cardiologist ASAP because damn, that hurt!)... An hour or so later, my father drove up to my house and I met him outside... He told me the whole story and gave me the bad news in the best way he could... it was tremendously painful for both of us. What I didn't realize until later that evening when my wife had woken up, etc. was that the times were exactly on the dot of the initial code to the time of death... I can't be more serious if I tried, and my wife was there to witness it. It was as if we shared a heart, and the pain and suffering was very real within me, as well. I realized then that the release of my pain in that instant was ultimately his release, as well.
I don't know if anyone else has experienced something like that, but it's indescribable and makes you sound like a crazy person to most people. I feel very empty at the moment, but I've seen several unusual signs in the last few days that make even a skeptic like myself truly believe that he's reaching out to let me know he's okay. Usually, people tell themselves that to make themselves feel better, but others have been around at the same time, and it's been something I simply can't describe. This entire ordeal has truly made me reevaluate my spiritual life, the power of prayer, and the realization of lack of control we have over this world. Perhaps that was one of the purposes of allowing him the extra time to spend with me - I was the one being taught the lesson.
I was able to use that extra time to express my true feelings, tell him what I had always wanted to, and be regaled by stories that even my father had never heard. The pain is immense, but I truly thank you for pulling and praying for him. Without all the love and support everyone showed him, he never would have made it that long - a total of 27 days in the ICU. I'm lost without him, but I know it was a true gift to be given that extra time.
He told me that he used that extra time to 'get right' with God and was truly happy - when everyone would walk in teary-eyed, he repeatedly said "don't feel sad for me, I know where I'm going" with a big smile on his face.
At the end of the day, though, I know now that we're powerless to control the inevitable. Though many of us (myself included) think we can move mountains and dodge bullets, when the rubber hits the road, we're all as helpless as anyone else.
His final requests of me were to stop (figuratively) killing myself with 100 hour work weeks and spend more time with family (specifically to take care of his great-grandson - my 8-month-old little boy who he was only well enough to meet twice... I hate myself for that), as that's all that you have left in the end. My father spent every single day there at his side, never missing a beat. As Navy/FMF officers, they lived by the code of 'when it's too tough for everybody else, it's just fine for me'. This evening, we found that he had left a small velvet box in his dresser drawer with my name on it... inside were his Navy wings, something even my father hadn't seen in 50 years. I'm still a bit speechless from that, and it has me crying at the moment. I know that he doesn't need these anymore, as he has a new set on him at this very moment. I will always have a co-pilot with me in the C7 from now on.
Again, thank you all so very much (especially Nick, Bob, etc) for your prayers and condolences. I hope some day we will all be reunited with our loved ones and turn the pain that we all must suffer through into a joyous celebration once we reach the other side.
Over a month ago, he was admitted to the hospital for minor respiratory issues. One thing continued to lead to another, and he contracted pneumonia during his stay in the hospital. He continued to fight (and remain conscious, aware, and ornery as ever) for 27 days in the ICU on a combination of BiPap and PosiVent treatments until Friday evening at 6:00p when his lungs failed and he was intubated. A few hours later, he went into cardiac arrest and passed at 9:00p as my father remained at his side.
Many of you had spoken to me during the ordeal, and keep him in your thoughts and prayers. I truly appreciate the outpouring of love and support. I truly don't know what to do at the moment, but I'm trying desperately to be strong for my father (a retired doctor who has witnessed thousands of people dying in the Navy as a FMF corpsman, as a firefighter, as a paramedic, and as a doctor). I was unable to get to the hospital in time, and my father, alone, was the one holding his hand as he faded out ... at the same time, assisting the crash team in bringing him back. Ultimately, his rate fell to the point of no return, and that was that...
My father and I wanted nothing more than for him to come out of there, and to be honest, it was looking like he would all through last week. We knew, though, that once he came out, he would be on a breathing machine, and we wouldn't be there 24/7 with him. He might have later (or sooner) passed away alone, afraid, and in pain. I was certainly not ready to give him up, but his body simply wore out.
It would take me a book's worth of writing to actually go through the story of his life... During WW2 and Korea, he was a naval aviator who rode down 4 planes, was captured and held, escaped, went to North Africa and was part of the group that held Port Lyautey, met the Pope (and accused him of stealing his rosary - that's a hilarious story)... He was the personal guard of Harry Truman for a period of time, spent a few days in Guantanamo Bay while the ship's captain worked to get him released... Made 'friends' with all of the pretty Mediterranean girls - the running joke is that we have family all over the world (or at least anywhere he sailed). He survived four major heart attacks beginning in 1993 and a quintuple bypass in 2004. Hell, we were told he even outlived his pacemaker...
He had an absolute wild ride from start to finish, and he did things his way.Over the years, I've found myself to be very anti-religion. I was raised Catholic, attended Catholic schools, etc. and was nearly kicked out due to my ever-growing distaste of the organization. This ordeal, though, has seriously put my faith to the test. Admittedly, even through all of my fights with cancer, I never said a prayer - I felt it was unnecessary. Last Sunday (4/13 - or Palm Sunday for those who observe that), I was called to the hospital by the nurses who told me he was going to die within the day. I stayed there with him all day and night telling him everything I wanted and needed to, and listening to his last words of advice to me while gasping through a mask. After leaving, I broke down (quite literally, falling to my knees in the shower while sobbing uncontrollably) and decided that there was nothing to lose in asking for help. My prayer was a simple one - I wanted him to have one more good day to spend with family and friends, free of pain, etc. The next day (Monday), he was up, walking, moving, laughing, and on a normal oxygen tube... The doctors told me even after he had passed that it was simply not possible that a man in that condition could change that rapidly. They explained the 'surge' before death, but said his lungs had shriveled and weakened beyond any ability to breathe on his own, let alone sit, stand, or leave the bed. I can't explain it, and it's shaken my faith (or lack thereof) to the core. He was given (in total) five extra wonderful days to enjoy life, see old friends, eat Steak 'n Shake burgers, enjoy chocolate eggs (Easter candy), and even eat a triple raspberry sundae from his favorite ice cream shop.
The connection we shared isn't something I can describe... This has existed for as along as I can remember. This time around, I had a very vivid dream the night before he went in to the hospital that involved him saying goodbye to me... I was incredibly confused as it was too real, but wrote it off as simple worries manifesting via a loved one or thing (kind of like the 'crap I crashed my 'Vette - oh wait... phew' dreams)
. I remember being under my car installing the ECS SC kit the evening he went into the hospital. My heart hurt (I, too, have severe heart issues in addition to the cancer, etc), and I wrote a quick text to my father asking if he had spoken to grandpa. The response was obviously of utter shock, though I already knew the answer. After he texted back that he had gone to the hospital in an ambulance, I knew right then and there that he wasn't coming out - not that I was being pessimistic, but I realized that was much more than a dream. I sat there in my jumpsuit crying for nearly an hour trying to process everything... Fast forward to this Friday, his last day on this earth... Around 8:30p, my heart began to hurt quite badly. I slowly crawled up the stairs and called to my wife who then laid down on the bed with me while stroking my hair, monitoring my pulse, breathing, etc. We were just about to call an ambulance when my breathing improved, and the PVCs and tachycardic symptoms literally dissipated all at once (as if I had sprayed Nitro, which I don't take or have). She and I talked for a little while longer, and I didn't think much about it (other than I needed to call my cardiologist ASAP because damn, that hurt!)... An hour or so later, my father drove up to my house and I met him outside... He told me the whole story and gave me the bad news in the best way he could... it was tremendously painful for both of us. What I didn't realize until later that evening when my wife had woken up, etc. was that the times were exactly on the dot of the initial code to the time of death... I can't be more serious if I tried, and my wife was there to witness it. It was as if we shared a heart, and the pain and suffering was very real within me, as well. I realized then that the release of my pain in that instant was ultimately his release, as well.I don't know if anyone else has experienced something like that, but it's indescribable and makes you sound like a crazy person to most people. I feel very empty at the moment, but I've seen several unusual signs in the last few days that make even a skeptic like myself truly believe that he's reaching out to let me know he's okay. Usually, people tell themselves that to make themselves feel better, but others have been around at the same time, and it's been something I simply can't describe. This entire ordeal has truly made me reevaluate my spiritual life, the power of prayer, and the realization of lack of control we have over this world. Perhaps that was one of the purposes of allowing him the extra time to spend with me - I was the one being taught the lesson.
I was able to use that extra time to express my true feelings, tell him what I had always wanted to, and be regaled by stories that even my father had never heard. The pain is immense, but I truly thank you for pulling and praying for him. Without all the love and support everyone showed him, he never would have made it that long - a total of 27 days in the ICU. I'm lost without him, but I know it was a true gift to be given that extra time.
He told me that he used that extra time to 'get right' with God and was truly happy - when everyone would walk in teary-eyed, he repeatedly said "don't feel sad for me, I know where I'm going" with a big smile on his face.
At the end of the day, though, I know now that we're powerless to control the inevitable. Though many of us (myself included) think we can move mountains and dodge bullets, when the rubber hits the road, we're all as helpless as anyone else.
His final requests of me were to stop (figuratively) killing myself with 100 hour work weeks and spend more time with family (specifically to take care of his great-grandson - my 8-month-old little boy who he was only well enough to meet twice... I hate myself for that), as that's all that you have left in the end. My father spent every single day there at his side, never missing a beat. As Navy/FMF officers, they lived by the code of 'when it's too tough for everybody else, it's just fine for me'. This evening, we found that he had left a small velvet box in his dresser drawer with my name on it... inside were his Navy wings, something even my father hadn't seen in 50 years. I'm still a bit speechless from that, and it has me crying at the moment. I know that he doesn't need these anymore, as he has a new set on him at this very moment. I will always have a co-pilot with me in the C7 from now on.
Again, thank you all so very much (especially Nick, Bob, etc) for your prayers and condolences. I hope some day we will all be reunited with our loved ones and turn the pain that we all must suffer through into a joyous celebration once we reach the other side.
04-22-2014, 01:12 PM
#2
Melting Slicks
Very sorry for your loss. There aren't any words at a time like this so it is great you have all those wonderful memories of him. We don't get to live forever but he will live on as you retell his stories.
Deepest Condolences
Deepest Condolences
04-22-2014, 03:04 PM
#3
Team Owner
Very sorry for your family's loss 
Glad your Dad was there with Grampa when he passed. And it sounds like your prayers did work, giving those five more days. Take care of yourself. Your Dad doesn't need more stress. And I'm sure you'll cherish those wings forever
Glad your Dad was there with Grampa when he passed. And it sounds like your prayers did work, giving those five more days. Take care of yourself. Your Dad doesn't need more stress. And I'm sure you'll cherish those wings forever
04-22-2014, 07:43 PM
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nutben 74vette
hey I am a grandfather 69 I hope your granddad had a wonderful life good bless. ben
04-25-2014, 08:25 PM
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St. Jude Donor '15
"In honor of jpee"
Says an awful lot in just a few words for an entire, long life that your grandfather had. Follow what he was telling you about family. You gave it thought to write, now do it justice. May he rest in peace.
04-25-2014, 08:43 PM
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St. Jude Donor '14-'15
Thank you all for the love and support.
The wake was today, and I was able to see just how many people he had touched over the years. He was a shooting coach in addition to everything else that he did in life, and he taught thousands of men and women life lessons in addition to training them to become championship (and in several cases, Olympic) shooters.
It was incredibly difficult to walk up to the casket, but I promised him that I would bring his great-grandson (my little boy) to say goodbye. That was one of the hardest moments of my life... but I know that it's not him there - it's merely a shall; what we all leave behind.
We will be saying our final goodbyes tomorrow when we have the service near a lake at the cemetery (actually in the spot they're building the vault/crypt/what have you) - it's very peaceful. I sat out there for a while today just listening and taking in the moment...
The wake was today, and I was able to see just how many people he had touched over the years. He was a shooting coach in addition to everything else that he did in life, and he taught thousands of men and women life lessons in addition to training them to become championship (and in several cases, Olympic) shooters.
It was incredibly difficult to walk up to the casket, but I promised him that I would bring his great-grandson (my little boy) to say goodbye. That was one of the hardest moments of my life... but I know that it's not him there - it's merely a shall; what we all leave behind.
We will be saying our final goodbyes tomorrow when we have the service near a lake at the cemetery (actually in the spot they're building the vault/crypt/what have you) - it's very peaceful. I sat out there for a while today just listening and taking in the moment...
04-29-2014, 07:44 PM
#8
Melting Slicks
It is with an incredible amount of sadness that I must acknowledge the passing of my beloved grandfather on Good Friday, 4/18/2014.
Over a month ago, he was admitted to the hospital for minor respiratory issues. One thing continued to lead to another, and he contracted pneumonia during his stay in the hospital. He continued to fight (and remain conscious, aware, and ornery as ever) for 27 days in the ICU on a combination of BiPap and PosiVent treatments until Friday evening at 6:00p when his lungs failed and he was intubated. A few hours later, he went into cardiac arrest and passed at 9:00p as my father remained at his side.
Many of you had spoken to me during the ordeal, and keep him in your thoughts and prayers. I truly appreciate the outpouring of love and support. I truly don't know what to do at the moment, but I'm trying desperately to be strong for my father (a retired doctor who has witnessed thousands of people dying in the Navy as a FMF corpsman, as a firefighter, as a paramedic, and as a doctor). I was unable to get to the hospital in time, and my father, alone, was the one holding his hand as he faded out ... at the same time, assisting the crash team in bringing him back. Ultimately, his rate fell to the point of no return, and that was that...
My father and I wanted nothing more than for him to come out of there, and to be honest, it was looking like he would all through last week. We knew, though, that once he came out, he would be on a breathing machine, and we wouldn't be there 24/7 with him. He might have later (or sooner) passed away alone, afraid, and in pain. I was certainly not ready to give him up, but his body simply wore out.
It would take me a book's worth of writing to actually go through the story of his life... During WW2 and Korea, he was a naval aviator who rode down 4 planes, was captured and held, escaped, went to North Africa and was part of the group that held Port Lyautey, met the Pope (and accused him of stealing his rosary - that's a hilarious story)... He was the personal guard of Harry Truman for a period of time, spent a few days in Guantanamo Bay while the ship's captain worked to get him released... Made 'friends' with all of the pretty Mediterranean girls - the running joke is that we have family all over the world (or at least anywhere he sailed). He survived four major heart attacks beginning in 1993 and a quintuple bypass in 2004. Hell, we were told he even outlived his pacemaker... He had an absolute wild ride from start to finish, and he did things his way.
Over the years, I've found myself to be very anti-religion. I was raised Catholic, attended Catholic schools, etc. and was nearly kicked out due to my ever-growing distaste of the organization. This ordeal, though, has seriously put my faith to the test. Admittedly, even through all of my fights with cancer, I never said a prayer - I felt it was unnecessary. Last Sunday (4/13 - or Palm Sunday for those who observe that), I was called to the hospital by the nurses who told me he was going to die within the day. I stayed there with him all day and night telling him everything I wanted and needed to, and listening to his last words of advice to me while gasping through a mask. After leaving, I broke down (quite literally, falling to my knees in the shower while sobbing uncontrollably) and decided that there was nothing to lose in asking for help. My prayer was a simple one - I wanted him to have one more good day to spend with family and friends, free of pain, etc. The next day (Monday), he was up, walking, moving, laughing, and on a normal oxygen tube... The doctors told me even after he had passed that it was simply not possible that a man in that condition could change that rapidly. They explained the 'surge' before death, but said his lungs had shriveled and weakened beyond any ability to breathe on his own, let alone sit, stand, or leave the bed. I can't explain it, and it's shaken my faith (or lack thereof) to the core. He was given (in total) five extra wonderful days to enjoy life, see old friends, eat Steak 'n Shake burgers, enjoy chocolate eggs (Easter candy), and even eat a triple raspberry sundae from his favorite ice cream shop.
The connection we shared isn't something I can describe... This has existed for as along as I can remember. This time around, I had a very vivid dream the night before he went in to the hospital that involved him saying goodbye to me... I was incredibly confused as it was too real, but wrote it off as simple worries manifesting via a loved one or thing (kind of like the 'crap I crashed my 'Vette - oh wait... phew' dreams). I remember being under my car installing the ECS SC kit the evening he went into the hospital. My heart hurt (I, too, have severe heart issues in addition to the cancer, etc), and I wrote a quick text to my father asking if he had spoken to grandpa. The response was obviously of utter shock, though I already knew the answer. After he texted back that he had gone to the hospital in an ambulance, I knew right then and there that he wasn't coming out - not that I was being pessimistic, but I realized that was much more than a dream. I sat there in my jumpsuit crying for nearly an hour trying to process everything... Fast forward to this Friday, his last day on this earth... Around 8:30p, my heart began to hurt quite badly. I slowly crawled up the stairs and called to my wife who then laid down on the bed with me while stroking my hair, monitoring my pulse, breathing, etc. We were just about to call an ambulance when my breathing improved, and the PVCs and tachycardic symptoms literally dissipated all at once (as if I had sprayed Nitro, which I don't take or have). She and I talked for a little while longer, and I didn't think much about it (other than I needed to call my cardiologist ASAP because damn, that hurt!)... An hour or so later, my father drove up to my house and I met him outside... He told me the whole story and gave me the bad news in the best way he could... it was tremendously painful for both of us. What I didn't realize until later that evening when my wife had woken up, etc. was that the times were exactly on the dot of the initial code to the time of death... I can't be more serious if I tried, and my wife was there to witness it. It was as if we shared a heart, and the pain and suffering was very real within me, as well. I realized then that the release of my pain in that instant was ultimately his release, as well.
I don't know if anyone else has experienced something like that, but it's indescribable and makes you sound like a crazy person to most people. I feel very empty at the moment, but I've seen several unusual signs in the last few days that make even a skeptic like myself truly believe that he's reaching out to let me know he's okay. Usually, people tell themselves that to make themselves feel better, but others have been around at the same time, and it's been something I simply can't describe. This entire ordeal has truly made me reevaluate my spiritual life, the power of prayer, and the realization of lack of control we have over this world. Perhaps that was one of the purposes of allowing him the extra time to spend with me - I was the one being taught the lesson.
I was able to use that extra time to express my true feelings, tell him what I had always wanted to, and be regaled by stories that even my father had never heard. The pain is immense, but I truly thank you for pulling and praying for him. Without all the love and support everyone showed him, he never would have made it that long - a total of 27 days in the ICU. I'm lost without him, but I know it was a true gift to be given that extra time.
He told me that he used that extra time to 'get right' with God and was truly happy - when everyone would walk in teary-eyed, he repeatedly said "don't feel sad for me, I know where I'm going" with a big smile on his face.
At the end of the day, though, I know now that we're powerless to control the inevitable. Though many of us (myself included) think we can move mountains and dodge bullets, when the rubber hits the road, we're all as helpless as anyone else.
His final requests of me were to stop (figuratively) killing myself with 100 hour work weeks and spend more time with family (specifically to take care of his great-grandson - my 8-month-old little boy who he was only well enough to meet twice... I hate myself for that), as that's all that you have left in the end. My father spent every single day there at his side, never missing a beat. As Navy/FMF officers, they lived by the code of 'when it's too tough for everybody else, it's just fine for me'. This evening, we found that he had left a small velvet box in his dresser drawer with my name on it... inside were his Navy wings, something even my father hadn't seen in 50 years. I'm still a bit speechless from that, and it has me crying at the moment. I know that he doesn't need these anymore, as he has a new set on him at this very moment. I will always have a co-pilot with me in the C7 from now on.
Again, thank you all so very much (especially Nick, Bob, etc) for your prayers and condolences. I hope some day we will all be reunited with our loved ones and turn the pain that we all must suffer through into a joyous celebration once we reach the other side.
Over a month ago, he was admitted to the hospital for minor respiratory issues. One thing continued to lead to another, and he contracted pneumonia during his stay in the hospital. He continued to fight (and remain conscious, aware, and ornery as ever) for 27 days in the ICU on a combination of BiPap and PosiVent treatments until Friday evening at 6:00p when his lungs failed and he was intubated. A few hours later, he went into cardiac arrest and passed at 9:00p as my father remained at his side.
Many of you had spoken to me during the ordeal, and keep him in your thoughts and prayers. I truly appreciate the outpouring of love and support. I truly don't know what to do at the moment, but I'm trying desperately to be strong for my father (a retired doctor who has witnessed thousands of people dying in the Navy as a FMF corpsman, as a firefighter, as a paramedic, and as a doctor). I was unable to get to the hospital in time, and my father, alone, was the one holding his hand as he faded out ... at the same time, assisting the crash team in bringing him back. Ultimately, his rate fell to the point of no return, and that was that...
My father and I wanted nothing more than for him to come out of there, and to be honest, it was looking like he would all through last week. We knew, though, that once he came out, he would be on a breathing machine, and we wouldn't be there 24/7 with him. He might have later (or sooner) passed away alone, afraid, and in pain. I was certainly not ready to give him up, but his body simply wore out.
It would take me a book's worth of writing to actually go through the story of his life... During WW2 and Korea, he was a naval aviator who rode down 4 planes, was captured and held, escaped, went to North Africa and was part of the group that held Port Lyautey, met the Pope (and accused him of stealing his rosary - that's a hilarious story)... He was the personal guard of Harry Truman for a period of time, spent a few days in Guantanamo Bay while the ship's captain worked to get him released... Made 'friends' with all of the pretty Mediterranean girls - the running joke is that we have family all over the world (or at least anywhere he sailed). He survived four major heart attacks beginning in 1993 and a quintuple bypass in 2004. Hell, we were told he even outlived his pacemaker...
He had an absolute wild ride from start to finish, and he did things his way.Over the years, I've found myself to be very anti-religion. I was raised Catholic, attended Catholic schools, etc. and was nearly kicked out due to my ever-growing distaste of the organization. This ordeal, though, has seriously put my faith to the test. Admittedly, even through all of my fights with cancer, I never said a prayer - I felt it was unnecessary. Last Sunday (4/13 - or Palm Sunday for those who observe that), I was called to the hospital by the nurses who told me he was going to die within the day. I stayed there with him all day and night telling him everything I wanted and needed to, and listening to his last words of advice to me while gasping through a mask. After leaving, I broke down (quite literally, falling to my knees in the shower while sobbing uncontrollably) and decided that there was nothing to lose in asking for help. My prayer was a simple one - I wanted him to have one more good day to spend with family and friends, free of pain, etc. The next day (Monday), he was up, walking, moving, laughing, and on a normal oxygen tube... The doctors told me even after he had passed that it was simply not possible that a man in that condition could change that rapidly. They explained the 'surge' before death, but said his lungs had shriveled and weakened beyond any ability to breathe on his own, let alone sit, stand, or leave the bed. I can't explain it, and it's shaken my faith (or lack thereof) to the core. He was given (in total) five extra wonderful days to enjoy life, see old friends, eat Steak 'n Shake burgers, enjoy chocolate eggs (Easter candy), and even eat a triple raspberry sundae from his favorite ice cream shop.
The connection we shared isn't something I can describe... This has existed for as along as I can remember. This time around, I had a very vivid dream the night before he went in to the hospital that involved him saying goodbye to me... I was incredibly confused as it was too real, but wrote it off as simple worries manifesting via a loved one or thing (kind of like the 'crap I crashed my 'Vette - oh wait... phew' dreams)
. I remember being under my car installing the ECS SC kit the evening he went into the hospital. My heart hurt (I, too, have severe heart issues in addition to the cancer, etc), and I wrote a quick text to my father asking if he had spoken to grandpa. The response was obviously of utter shock, though I already knew the answer. After he texted back that he had gone to the hospital in an ambulance, I knew right then and there that he wasn't coming out - not that I was being pessimistic, but I realized that was much more than a dream. I sat there in my jumpsuit crying for nearly an hour trying to process everything... Fast forward to this Friday, his last day on this earth... Around 8:30p, my heart began to hurt quite badly. I slowly crawled up the stairs and called to my wife who then laid down on the bed with me while stroking my hair, monitoring my pulse, breathing, etc. We were just about to call an ambulance when my breathing improved, and the PVCs and tachycardic symptoms literally dissipated all at once (as if I had sprayed Nitro, which I don't take or have). She and I talked for a little while longer, and I didn't think much about it (other than I needed to call my cardiologist ASAP because damn, that hurt!)... An hour or so later, my father drove up to my house and I met him outside... He told me the whole story and gave me the bad news in the best way he could... it was tremendously painful for both of us. What I didn't realize until later that evening when my wife had woken up, etc. was that the times were exactly on the dot of the initial code to the time of death... I can't be more serious if I tried, and my wife was there to witness it. It was as if we shared a heart, and the pain and suffering was very real within me, as well. I realized then that the release of my pain in that instant was ultimately his release, as well.I don't know if anyone else has experienced something like that, but it's indescribable and makes you sound like a crazy person to most people. I feel very empty at the moment, but I've seen several unusual signs in the last few days that make even a skeptic like myself truly believe that he's reaching out to let me know he's okay. Usually, people tell themselves that to make themselves feel better, but others have been around at the same time, and it's been something I simply can't describe. This entire ordeal has truly made me reevaluate my spiritual life, the power of prayer, and the realization of lack of control we have over this world. Perhaps that was one of the purposes of allowing him the extra time to spend with me - I was the one being taught the lesson.
I was able to use that extra time to express my true feelings, tell him what I had always wanted to, and be regaled by stories that even my father had never heard. The pain is immense, but I truly thank you for pulling and praying for him. Without all the love and support everyone showed him, he never would have made it that long - a total of 27 days in the ICU. I'm lost without him, but I know it was a true gift to be given that extra time.
He told me that he used that extra time to 'get right' with God and was truly happy - when everyone would walk in teary-eyed, he repeatedly said "don't feel sad for me, I know where I'm going" with a big smile on his face.
At the end of the day, though, I know now that we're powerless to control the inevitable. Though many of us (myself included) think we can move mountains and dodge bullets, when the rubber hits the road, we're all as helpless as anyone else.
His final requests of me were to stop (figuratively) killing myself with 100 hour work weeks and spend more time with family (specifically to take care of his great-grandson - my 8-month-old little boy who he was only well enough to meet twice... I hate myself for that), as that's all that you have left in the end. My father spent every single day there at his side, never missing a beat. As Navy/FMF officers, they lived by the code of 'when it's too tough for everybody else, it's just fine for me'. This evening, we found that he had left a small velvet box in his dresser drawer with my name on it... inside were his Navy wings, something even my father hadn't seen in 50 years. I'm still a bit speechless from that, and it has me crying at the moment. I know that he doesn't need these anymore, as he has a new set on him at this very moment. I will always have a co-pilot with me in the C7 from now on.
Again, thank you all so very much (especially Nick, Bob, etc) for your prayers and condolences. I hope some day we will all be reunited with our loved ones and turn the pain that we all must suffer through into a joyous celebration once we reach the other side.
May God be very near and dear to you and your family
04-30-2014, 09:36 AM
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My condolences for your loss Sean, it does sound like your grandfather left you with a gift of knowledge on several levels that you need to evaluate and utilize the best you can. For that and the connection you had with him, you are very fortunate.
05-02-2014, 03:52 PM
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St. Jude Donor '14-'15
Thank you to everyone for the outpouring of love and support. The pain is still incredible, but as Doug said, I need to use what he was able to teach me and put it to the best use I can.
I've worked so hard in the last few weeks on getting yet another business up and running, slept very little, etc. which goes against his last request of working less, etc. Though, I have made it a point to wake up every morning to play with my little boy, regardless of who needs me or how urgent something may be. I realize my life is now for him, and I hope that fulfills my promise of always putting family first no matter the circumstances.
I've worked so hard in the last few weeks on getting yet another business up and running, slept very little, etc. which goes against his last request of working less, etc. Though, I have made it a point to wake up every morning to play with my little boy, regardless of who needs me or how urgent something may be. I realize my life is now for him, and I hope that fulfills my promise of always putting family first no matter the circumstances.
