Entry 28: Hospice

My sister and I toured each hospice, feeling more and more discouraged as the day progressed. They were bleak, with mismatched furniture, dingy coloured walls and worn carpet, as if dying patients weren't worth the effort. We couldn't imagine spending time in any of these depressing hospices ourselves, never mind having Dad die in one. We'd just about given up for the day, when we decided to look at one more. As soon as the director opened the door, we both smiled. The room was bright and airy, and faced a sunny courtyard where the birds happily chirped. There was new paint on the walls and pine furniture that all matched. For a hospice, it was beautiful, as I looked at my sister and said, "This is where Dad should be."

The next day he was transported by ambulance, and as soon as he was placed in the room, old Dad returned, as his anxiety melted away. "I love it," he said, giving us a big smile. "It feels like my own little apartment." I'd been terrified of his reaction when the doctor at the hospital had first broken the news that he wasn't returning home, but he'd taken it quite well. Dad had always needed something to hold onto, and the doctor had told him that he could still go home for visits if he was well enough. That had seemed to do the trick.

For the first couple of days, there'd been a noticeable uptick in his health and spirit, and I couldn't help but wonder if he'd become the anomaly who walked out of the hospice with his cancer in remission. He was already a miracle, having lived 18 months past his expiry date, so anything was possible. "This is quite normal when a patient first enters our facility, but unfortunately his health will start to decline," the doctor said, giving both me and my sister an empathetic look. "We'll make sure he stays comfortable and pain free."

With Dad only having a short time left, my sister and I took shifts so that he was never alone. My sister and stepmom took the days and I took the nights, rushing after work to be with him. I looked forward to our time together as I read to him, watched his favourite TV series with him, and reminisced about the past. I didn't want him to leave me, I needed a parent's love more than I'd realized. But, Dad's health was continuing to decline, and I could sense a shift within him. As we sat watching Singing in the Rain one night in his room, I could tell something was bothering him. "You're especially quiet tonight," I said after the credits rolled. "Tell me what's wrong."

His voice cracked. "I'm just so sad, Ellie. Because I now know that I'm not going to make it."

Tears streamed down my face, as I went and sat next to him on the bed and kissed his forehead. "I know Dad, I know, and I'm so incredibly sorry."

After that, he began to rapidly decline, sleeping more and more, until he wasn't waking up at all. "We're down to days now," the doctor informed us. We sat with him, bracing for the end, but he continued to hold on. "Sometimes loved ones are afraid to let go, as they worry about those they're leaving behind. Your Dad loves you both so much, he talked about you non-stop, so maybe you need to give him permission to leave," the nurse said.

"Then that's what we need to do," my sister said matter of factly, not giving me an opportunity to give an opinion, as she began making a plan with my stepmother.

Even though my sister and I had been in unison with Dad's care and overall decision making, I'd still been made to feel like an outsider, and this situation only magnified it. There'd been an air of superiority whenever my sister sensed I might be struggling emotionally, making it about faith rather than love.

"I'll go first, then you, then stepmother," my sister said, later that afternoon.

I could barely breathe at the thought of telling my father he should die. I didn't know if I could do it, as I waited outside his room while my sister said her goodbyes. "Your turn," she said, as she walked past me.

I had no idea what to say as I sat down next to him, holding his hand. I didn't believe in the religion's view of death anymore, so if he was looking for religious comfort, I wasn't the one to provide it. I also didn't have a lot of fond memories of him the past decade, as I hadn't been part of his life. I took a deep breath. "Dad, I know you've put up such a hard fight, and you've been incredibly brave through it all." He lifted his brows ever so slightly. "I love you so much, and the least thing I want is for you to not be here with me, especially when our relationship and love has grown beyond what we could have imagined."

I thought back to a recent memory "Remember when we went on the drive to the farm?" Dad nodded his head ever so slightly. "It was such a magical day, and one I'll never forget. How I wish that we could have more days like that together." I paused. "But, I know that you're suffering, and I don't want that for you." Suddenly, I felt all the emotion come to the surface. "I guess what I'm saying, is that if you feel that you're ready to leave us, it's okay. Please don't worry about me or sister, as we will make sure to look after one another when you're gone."

I'd managed to hold it together up to this point, but then I went to say the next part, and choked on my words. "As you leave us, please remember how loved you are, and especially by your two girls. I love you, Dad, and I'm so grateful for the time I've had with you." I got up and kissed his forehead like I'd done each night, before heading home, only this time I couldn't say the words that normally followed, which was, "See you tomorrow," as I wasn't sure there'd be one for him.