How do you say goodbye when you don’t want to.



1969 Flin Flon Me, Dad and Candy the Boxer

I have had a lifetime full of compromises over the past 6 months.  Compromise and move on.  Compromise and move on.  Understand that your Dad will never go home again, cry, work through it and move on.  Understand that your Dad’s brain will be Swiss cheese in 6 months, cry, work through it and move on.  Understand that your Dad can’t feed himself, cry, work through it and move on.  Understand that your Dad will never be able to tell you he loves you again, cry, work through it and move on.  Every day it’s a new compromise, a new set of tears, new things to have to work through. 

The problem is that Alzheimer’s disease doesn’t care about compromise.  It doesn’t care that it rips you apart every single day. There is no compromise with Alzheimer.  The only compromise you have is with yourself and just how much more you are going to cave in today.  There is no peace.  Alzheimer does not play by the rules.  It doesn’t care that you have to change tack every day because every day presents a new set of challenges.  That once you’ve dealt with a new set of problems another tragedy is handed to you.  

Two weeks ago my Mom and I had to have the conversation about how we are going to let Dad die.  Another horrible compromise.  We sorted through it, understanding that once his mind was gone we would not allow feeding tubes and we would not allow resuscitation. When we spoke we put all our sentences in the form of questions.  This is the right thing to do for Dad, right?  We don’t want him wasting away, right?  This isn’t what Buzz would want, right? Compromise.  Tears.  Work through it. Move on.  I thought we did the right thing.  I thought we came to a proper dignified resolution to end my Dad’s life.   Choosing how my Dad is to die is not what I want to do.  Compromise, cry and move on….right?  Well…no.  You are not allowed to move on.  Alzheimer doesn’t care that you are wrecked because you had to decide how you were going to let your Dad die.  Instead it lets you know that it is in control and it will decide for you just how your Dad is going to die. 

A few days after my Mom and I came to terms with how we were going to let my Dad die I came to a sort of realization that, although I hate what is happening , death is really the best thing for him because he will never come back from this disease.  Once he is gone, he is gone.

 Compromise. Work through it.

 I had a week to cry and work through it and I had reached a place where I thought I could live with my decision regarding the whole end of life situation.  It’s not what I wanted for my family but it is here and it is terrible but soon, once my Dad’s brain is gone, we will help him move on and he will be free and whole  again.  Compromise. Work through it.

Three days ago I got “the call”.  My Dad’s sodium levels spiked again. His organs are beginning to fail.  A new twist. A new compromise.  The people in charge are telling me I have to fly out to say good bye.  Now instead of being able to be at peace with the terrible decisions we have had to make, a new devastation.  My father is still in there….he still smiles when he gets my phone calls, he still kisses my Mom.  His brain is not gone yet.  We made that deal already.  We compromised. And now everything is being taken away again. 

Christamas 2008

I have to fly out to say goodbye to my Dad.  I know that when I get back on that plane to come back to Winnipeg I will probably never see him again.  I will never be able to hold his hand or look into his beautiful grey eyes again.  How am I supposed to say good bye when I don’t want to.  How am I supposed to compromise when we've compromised enough already?  Honestly.  I just want my Dad back.