Chapter 14: The Nightmare Ends

The Nightmare Ends

About six weeks into the new year, the social worker at the care facility phoned to ask a question. Dad had been there nineteen months at that point, and during that time, his needs had changed. He no longer needed to be on a locked ward. Now his bed on the unit was needed by someone they wanted to accept as a resident. "Would you allow us to move your father down to a unit on the first floor?"

The proposed move would not be too confusing for him, I was told, because the unit was identical in layout...just two floors beneath the one he was currently living on. My main concern was in having people work with him who didn't have firsthand knowledge of his likes, dislikes, needs, etc. Even though Dad's awareness was very compromised by this time, I was still concerned that the new faces of his caregivers might be unsettling for him. I told the social worker I needed a day to think it over, pleased that they wouldn't make any changes without my approval.

After weighing the issues, I agreed to the move, but only with certain stipulations. I wanted the nursing staff who knew Dad to communicate closely with the staff on the new unit for the first few days until everyone felt comfortable.

Daddy was moved early the next Friday morning. I waited until I knew lunch would be finished and then called the nurse on the new unit to see how the transition was coming along. She assured me things were running smoothly. He had eaten his lunch, smiled when talked to, and was currently resting quietly.

I was pleasantly surprised late that same afternoon when Dad's nurse called, just to tell me his first day had gone very well. I was impressed at her thoughtfulness. I finally relaxed then, feeling all the uncertainty about letting them move my father finally vanish. I thanked her for phoning and told her I would be down for a visit with him the following Monday.

A Swift Turn of Events

Late that same evening, I arrived at my cashiering job at the casino where I was working third shift. My son Jason, who worked the swing shift, was just finishing up. I signed out the keys I needed and by 11:05 p.m. was at my work station doing business. It was a typical, busy weekend night and Jason had a long line of customers at his window. He quickly gave me one of those looks as if to say, "It's been one of those nights!"

Just then, the phone rang. I answered it quickly, expecting to hear from one of the other departments in the casino. But this was not an internal call. It was a personal call for me. "Judy, this is the nurse at Clark County. Your father is having a difficult time breathing." She advised me they were giving him oxygen and had phoned the doctor. For a moment I was too stunned to think.

As Jason was still there helping to keep the customers moving, I kept the nature of the phone call to myself, telling him I would be back in a few minutes. I quickly made my way to find my supervisor. By then I was able to think more clearly and realized my father's condition sounded grave.

Sharing my dilemma, one of the employees going off duty volunteered to stay and work a few hours longer so I could leave. Another woman offered to help Jason finish up so we could be on our way as soon as as possible. I phoned Bill to advise him I would be home within the hour so the three of us could head out immediately to be with Dad.

On the way home, I explained the situation to Jason and together we shared our fears. It was nearly midnight but there was never any question about our making the two-hour trip to see my father. If Daddy was doing poorly, then I wanted us to be right there by his side.

Pulling into the driveway, we bounded into the house. Bill was in the kitchen waiting for us. "The nurse just called again," he said. "Your dad passed away a few minutes ago." Oh, I remember thinking, my father is gone. I had such a terribly empty feeling as we no longer had any reason to rush. The crisis had already ended and my beloved father was dead. I was devastated.

I don't know how I slept that night, probably out of sheer exhaustion, but the loss was excruciating. I had been so close to my father and it pained me that I hadn't been there for him in those final, desperate hours. But I was thankful he had not been alone when he died. Knowing that the nurse was at his side gave me some consolation.

Daddy died exactly seven months to the day after Mom. It struck me how quickly things can change. His first day on the new unit had gone exceptionally well and by midnight he had died. It was if somewhere in his mind he decided he should permanently move on to make room for others...that his time on this Earth was finished.

Surviving the Nightmare

Once again, there were many phone calls to make and a funeral to plan. I had barely recovered from losing Mom and now both of them were gone. I did better than I thought I would though at Daddy's funeral. In a way, maybe I was just glad he was now free of his tired, broken body.

I missed him terribly, but I knew his spirit would never die. At the viewing, it was comforting to talk with some of his old school friends, and those who knew him from the years he was in business. The service itself was difficult because the finality of his life stared me coldly in the face. I had dreaded this moment from the time I was a little girl, and now it was here.

In the weeks that followed, I slowly adjusted to the fact they were both gone. There would be no more visits to nursing homes. All that remained now was a mountain of legal paperwork to settle their estate.

I will always be sad that my parents were denied the pleasure of living with us, but I am hopeful that in telling their story, others will benefit. It is my way of bringing something good and positive out of their tragedy.

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I would strongly advise you to read the appendix
to familiarize yourself with the legal steps
you can take to protect your family before that knowledge is needed.