Big "C" Part 2 (standard:non fiction, 2620 words) [2/3] show all parts
Author: casio1933	Added: May 07 2008	Views/Reads: 2559/1827	Part vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
Going home

GOING HOME 

After what seemed like about two years,  the week was finally  over. 
Joe told Dad he could get up and go home anytime  he wanted.  Dad 
planned to go the next day.  "I  ordered some solid food for your 
dinner.  Before you leave the  hospital you'll have to have a bowel 
movement.”  Joe said as he went out  the door.  ‑  My Dad had not 
shit the whole week.  He had lain flat of his back the entire time.  
Around ten  P.M.  a nurse  came  into the room with a laxative and some 
mineral oil.  She thought Dad may need some lubricant.  Miracles do 
happen.  Dad got up next morning, went into the bathroom, and had  a 
good shit ‑ for the first time in over a week.  He was looking 
forward to his next one. 

My Mom got to the hospital a little after nine that morning and they
began to load flowers, fruit, books, magazines, clothes  and  other 
paraphernalia on a cart for transport to the  car.  Mom had parked out 
front of the hospital.  They seated Dad in   a  wheel chair and wheeled 
him to the front entrance.  Mom helped him into the car ‑ he 
didn't realize how weak he was and  looked  forward to lying down in 
his own bed.  Dad had  been  given a half‑gallon plastic bag,  
into which he was to "plug" in  the catheter and hang it near the bed 
at night.  He was wearing a portable bag strapped to his leg.  This bag 
was a one-pint size.  Dad thought that was a mighty little for any  
heavy beer drinking. 

Joe and Dad had discussed the potential for infection associated  with
the surgery and the catheter.  Joe said  infection was a real concern 
and that Dad should drink plenty of liquid  to keep his system "flushed 
out”.  Dad told him he was going to consume an inordinate amount of 
beer during the next four weeks until he got the "dammed thing" out.  
Joe didn't argue.  After a few days Dad had regained enough strength to 
stay  up most of the day and go anywhere he wanted.  Neither Joe nor 
Max would agree to his driving for at least a month.  He read, watched 
television, walked around the yard, and had a few beers (Mom was going 
to work every day).  Dad was buying  Country Club Malt Liquor by the 
case.  He said if he couldn't  drink more than Pearl Brewing could 
produce,  he would, at least, keep them working nights and weekends. 

The  following week,  Dad awakened on Saturday morning in a state of
lethargy he had never before experienced.  He felt no pain, not even 
any of the discomfort he normally associated with the catheter and the 
healing incision.  His mind seemed     to be detached from his body and 
the serenity he was  experiencing was eerie (and afterwards scary).  It 
was a condition that is difficult to explain,  neither positive nor  
negative feelings were present.  There was no desire beyond remaining 
in one position,  without movement, without hunger, without speech and 
without want.  "To be left alone"  was about  as  close to any feeling 
as he could get. 

Mom  didn't pay much attention at first.  However,  when  she could get
nothing but a few grunts out of him when she asked  Dad about what he 
wanted for breakfast, she began to become a little concerned.  Six 
hours later, Dad still lay in the same position.  He had not gone to 
the bathroom,  not eaten, not spoken, and not moved ‑ Mom began 
to get worried.  Dad just lay in the bed, staring at the ceiling, 
almost like he was waiting to die.  He wasn't willing himself to die 
and he wasn't willing himself to live.  He was vaguely aware of what 
was going on around him.  It didn't matter, nothing did.  Dad  was the 
most comfortable he could ever remember, not that he  was thinking 
about it.  There seemed to be nothing that would  motivate him. 

For over an hour,  Mom tried every way she knew to coax  Dad out of the
lethargy and from the bed, all to no avail.  Finally, she broke into 
tears.  Through the whole ordeal,  she had not let Dad see her cry.  
She had been with him all the way,  scared to death that she was going 
to lose him.  Dad, wrapped up with his own thoughts, had not considered 
what she had been going through. 

Mom was having a much rougher time, physically, than Dad was.  She had
lost between fifteen and twenty pounds.  Even while Dad was in the 
hospital,  some of his more candid visitors would come in and say,  
"Hell, you don't look like you're sick, She looks like the one who 
should be in bed”. 



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