So because I haven't officially commented on it yet, I'll comment on it now.

I had three previous posts about my step-dad's condition.

September 20th, 2010 at 12:30 am, he died.  Yeah, I'm not into the "passed away" nonsense.

He was gasping for breath, like a fish out of water.  My mother called it a "death rattle" and she knew he was going to go because she worked in a nursing home for years.  It's a horrible thing.


I'd never seen anyone die before.  I have to admit, it is as terrible as it is rewarding.  I'm glad I was there to say goodbye.  Unlike some people, I didn't feel anything when he passed.  He kept getting quiet now and then, and Steve and I would look at each other wondering, is he gone?  Then he would breathe again.  This happened a few times, and the last time it happened, needless to say it was the last.  It's a long moment wondering, will he breathe again?  Now?

There's not much of a difference between someone who was just alive and someone who is dead.  Maybe I feel that way because he was already so close to death.  There was no change, just a lack of breathing, and time.  His eyes were closed, his mouth was open.  There was a fly in the room, already stalking the scent of death.  I would have done anything to kill that fucking fly.

My mother was hysterical.  She was so mean to him the last few days before he died, mocking him because he thought he could get from point A to point B, and he would fall down in between.  I'm amazed that she managed to absolve herself so quickly.

I had to call the people from hospice, aka the vultures.  I told them who I was and that Harry had passed away.  I hate that phrase.  She said in the most unbelievably patronizing tone of voice, "He is (Pronounced "eeez").  I hung up on that bitch.

I didn't want anyone near the body except for close relatives.  It wasn't right, but they came anyway.  They brought their fucking children.  They said, "Give him a kiss."  That's just freaking sick.

It was along wait for someone to come.  I felt like I needed to guard his body.  We had to wait for paramedics to come and confirm that, yep, we're not stupid - he was dead.

They took him and the bed sheet he was wrapped in.  We all  stood outside on the ramp that had been constructed not even a week ago just so Harry could get around easier.  It was cold.  We were crying and cold from crying.  We stood outside for a long time, thinking of what to say, and trying to laugh whenever we could.

I went back to bed.  Didn't dream. Went to school in the morning, but not to class.  I hid in the music area and cried and called my dad and his family.  They didn't understand.  I found my friend at lunch and took her to a private bathroom and told her, and we cried.  That was good, because I realized that usually when you cry, you fucking cry alone.  I learned that later that night at marching band practice, when it hurt to keep going, and everyone else laughed in their own world, even though they knew, and I screamed.

He didn't live long enough to see his birthday in October, or my 18th in November, or my graduation on June 3rd.  Goals I had jokingly held him to when he was alive.  Sometimes you just can't make a goal.

I didn't dream of him for a long time.  The first time I did, he called me on the phone.  He wanted to let me know that he wouldn't be seeing me on the other side, because I didn't have a soul.

I think that's true.

My mother didn't want to sleep in the bed where he died.  She slept in the lazy-boy for a while.  But eventually she went back to her bed.

It took weeks and several strips of flypaper to get rid of the flies.  They could smell death somehow, even after he was gone.  I fucking hate flies. They are the true harbingers of death.  You cannot comprehend how evil they are until they invade the area where someone died, searching for a place to lay their spawn, pissing all over your sense of reverence, reminding you that everything is filth.

Another thing I realized about death, is how unfair it is for someone to become past tense.  You no longer are, you were.  It's the worst injustice imaginable.  I can't see how someone stops affecting the world.  Some last longer in our memories than others.  It feels like cheating them.

Some people get upset with the fact that I can still joke about death.  Crudely.  That's just too bad for them.  Life goes on, even if it shouldn't.  Too many people die for it to be offensive.  Respect the people themselves, but death is not something that isn't worth laughing at.  If only because we know that none of us will escape it.

Well, I didn't want to update on my step-dad until I knew whether or not he has lung cancer. He's being tested for that on the 18th. He is home now, but barely got a few days in before new things came crashing down.

My brother's fiancee, Anna, took off to North Carolina with their two sons, ages 1 and 2. She said she was only going to take care of some sick family member for a week. The claim is still that she's coming back on Saturday, but we have a lot of reasons to believe that she isn't coming back. She left huge bills for my mother and brother to pay, and wasted all of her own money before taking most of my brother's money "for gas" before she left. She was starting to work whenever she felt like it (not like her), blew money on a tattoo, and left without giving her job any notice or quitting. My brother found messages to her ex-boyfriend about how she wanted to be with him. She told my brother she would call him when she got to NC. It's been about 5 days and my brother has called every phone number he can find but her friends and family who know where she is will not tell him anything or give him her number. I think that even qualifies as parental kidnapping, but I think my brother is just going to call social services and get them to remove his sons from her custody, and take her to court to get custody. We have no idea where she is, so that might be hard. I don't think we can really do anything until Saturday goes by.

My step dad has had an increasingly hard time walking. Right now he needs assistance or he will fall down. He has to drag his left foot when he walks. He described it like there was a pressure cuff cutting off his circulation. He went to the ER because of the pain and numbness a few days ago. The doctor said he didn't want to "deal with cramps" and only peeked at his leg and told him to go home. My mother took him back to a different ER the next day and THOSE doctors told her his leg didn't even look right. When they did tests they found that his arteries are blocked up very badly, so there is next to no blood flowing to his legs. They wanted surgery ASAP to put stents in, but then found that the blockage was worse than they thought so they didn't do anything but scheduled more tests. He was supposed to get those tests today but that was canceled because they found something wrong with his kidneys. Might have something to do with the drug they insisted he take that nearly caused kidney failure last time he was on it, but they insisted. '

My mother is pursuing legal action against the doctor who told Harry it was just cramps. We can't afford a lawyer so we can only do so much.

I wish I was making this all up. :(

I visited my step father in the hospital today. As it turns out, the right side of his heart (the side that still works) is dying. The main reason why he's in the hospital, though, is because his lungs are full of fluid. They're only working at about 30% capacity right now. He can't have surgery for his heart because he would die on the operating table.

Basically, all we can do is try to keep him healthy for as long as possible. I hope he'll get to see me graduate high school. When he gets home, he'll have to be on oxygen. They recommended he quit smoking, but at the same time I guess they don't expect that to happen. My mother told me they looked at his father's history, and his father went down the same road. His father had to quit smoking, and died 6 months later.

He's still Harry, though. He was absolutely disgusted with their diet plans for him, and their mutant "cholesterol-free" eggs. He told me the hospital custard tasted like shit. :P I don't think my mother will make him stick to the diet when he gets home.

So my step dad Harry is in the hospital right now. He hasn't been right for a while. His feet and legs were turning a ghostly blue and swelling up. He was getting more and more limited in his ability to walk. He has having chest pains and difficulty breathing, along with dizzy spells.

The other night my mother took him to the hospital yet again. This time instead of giving him a medication and sending him out, they realized that he had fluid in or around his lungs. I'm not sure, but my mother told me he was choking on it. He spent the night while they medicated him heavily to get the fluid out, but it didn't work too well I suppose. His breathing was still strained from that fluid so a few hours ago from writing this, they sent him to a different hospital a few hours away.

I keep trying to think of what his chances are. He's in his early 70s now, with a heart so bad that supposedly there's literally only half of [the original?] left. I'm not sure, but my mother implied that fluid buildup is related to his congestive heart failure. As my sister in law told her 2-year-old and 1-year-old, 'He's strong. He'll be back.' If it's very serious, I'm not so sure, unfortunately. He's a hell of an ornery guy, but he's been talking about death so much lately. My mother was in tears, but I can't trust that to see how bad it is. I have to focus on facts. The facts don't sound too good right now.

My mother just left and will be gone the weekend to stay near Harry. I sent my unicorn and whale ahead of me so that he will have me by his side tonight.

I hope the next time I blog about this, it will be to say he's doing much better.

P.S. for my mother's sake, and Harry's, I kindly request some prayers and good thoughts his way. Thank you. ♥