Don't you forget about me

Don't you forget about me

The envelope lying on the dining room table was addressed to me. I'm not sure why I felt so, what's the word, leary? Yeah, leary of what may be enclosed in that paper wrapper.

Frowning, I grabbed the envelope, stuck my finger under the edge of the flap and tore the thing open.

My dearest:
Before things progress much further I wanted to get this written and delivered.

To my dismay my facilities are leaving me rapidly. Some days I'm more "with it" than others, so that is why I'm writing this, so I can get it all on paper.

I fear what the future has in store for me. The betrayal of the body to age is quite difficult and the loss of one's mind is a terrible, terrible thing.

I've seen what happened to my older friends and I know you'd have to put me in a facility as managing an Alzheimer patient is a 24/7 job that can destroy a family.

I don't want to forget you and the life I lived. I don't want to be frightened of my grandchildren and of anyone that enters my geriatric prison cell.

For that reason, and a dozen others, I've decided to end my life. Please try to understand that I love you all and that I wanted to do this with dignity.

It would be foolish of me to say I never meant to hurt you, because I'm sure that the actions I mean to take have hurt you. I'm very sorry but I feel this is by far the best choice for everyone.

Now that I'm gone, don't you forget about me.

I love you,
Dad

I picked up my cell phone and quickly dialed my dad's number, but it went straight to voicemail. I dialed my sister next.

"Hey, he's the same. Their coming to test his brain function again shortly. Are you able to come up? I really need to deal with some stuff at home before they burn the house down," said my sister, Jane without a breath.

"Yeah, I'll be up in an hour," I answered.

"Did you read the letter? Bob said we got one yesterday. What was so damn important that he had to go to the post office to mail it instead of emailing it? And then he has a major stroke in the parking lot," said an exasperated Jane.

"It was pretty important to him. I'll bring mine up for you to read. I don't want to go into on the phone. I'll see ya in an hour," I said.

"The doctors should be here soon, so hurry. Bye," said Jane.

I listened to the silence in the phone for a few seconds lost in my own thoughts that were all over the place. I put the phone down and rested my head on my arms on the table. I felt the weight of the world on my shoulders lift a bit.

We found a quiet spot in the hospital cafeteria. I was nursing my third cup of coffee and still felt like I couldn't wake up. Jane didn't want anything but to see the letter.

"If the doctors think he is not going to improve, I think this will help our decision making," I said handing over the letter to Jane. "It's difficult to read."

Jane read the entire letter twice without a word. She folded it up, put it in the envelope and handed it back to me. "I'm not sure what is worse: finding him dead or this stroke. I don't believe he would have gone through with it."

"He wouldn't have mailed the letters and told us he was going to Uncle Bill's for a week, if he wasn't determined, Jane," I said stuffing the letter back into my purse.

"We better get back upstairs. We don't miss the doctors," said Jane as she quickly rose from the table.

Our father would not keep his eyes closed and he would not blink. It was very disconcerting. I reached over and gently closed his eyes and in a minute they would be open again.

"Good morning, I'm Dr. Lana Mecklenburg," said the young woman as she walked around to the other side of my father's bed. "What your seeing with his eyes is due to what I call a storm that's going on in his brain. These storms are like seizures sending bursts of electricity throughout the brain. One of these bolts of energy is tripping on the blink reflex and it's getting stuck in the open state. Unfortunately, he is not doing this voluntarily. Right now, we are providing the only life remaining in him. I'll have the nurse tape his eyes closed so they won't dry out.

"We need to have a difficult talk about his future," said the doctor as she leaned against the window seal so she could face my sister and me. "We can leave him on life support and move him to a long term care facility or we can stop life support and let him pass as nature intended."

Jane gasped but did not speak.

"We recently received a letter confirming our father's wishes. What do we need to do to stop life support?" I asked choking on my words.

Jane started crying into her hands. Her soft sobs were drowned out by the work of the ventilator.

"I'll get them started on the paperwork and get things set up. It will take an hour or two. Then it will depend on you two. If you want to wait a few days, we'll transfer him to a hospice facility," said the doctor. She walked to the door. "I'll be at the nurses desk. Let me know your decision."

I nodded and closed my eyes.

"It's time," said Jane.

I nodded again with my eyes still closed.

"I'll never forget about you, Dad," I thought as I reflected on his letter.