Mike Moser "I Say" Published Sept. 30, 2005

Curiously , Dad did it his way

It is curious how things work out sometimes.

Today would have been my parents' 54th wedding anniversary. It is also the eighth day since my dad died.

Dying is not anything new. But you certainly look at things differently when it is someone you know, someone close. About the only saving grace for us was that it put a merciful end to the downward spiral Dad took over the past couple of weeks.

Curious how we embrace death when it relieves the pain and suffering of someone close to us who has no hope of ever getting better.

My two brothers, sister and I had tentatively talked about gathering at my parents' home in Alabama this weekend to celebrate their wedding anniversary but a couple of weeks ago talk turned to all of us kids, and as many grand kids as could, gathering early.

Dad had been diagnosed with renal cell cancer about 27 months ago. At the time the doctor told us that with aggressive treatment, Dad could have about two years. Maybe more but not to expect such.

Curious how the side affects of the treatment for this type of cancer are so much worse than the disease itself. Still, he endured the shots, which made him so sick. He had good days but mostly bad days ... good weeks but mostly bad weeks. We all visited as we could while maintaining a semblance of normality in our own homes.

Sometimes there would be a reprieve from the treatments and Dad would have good days, and weeks. He would sometimes travel to visit one of the kids.

The lull from getting worse at times can give a false sense of security, a false sense that everything will be alright. And you hold out, hoping for a miracle cure. But there is no miracle. Renal cell is not high on the common list, thus, it is not high on the research list.

In late July the regular doctor's visit brought the news we all feared. The cancer was no longer accepting the treatment, and it had begun to spread across his chest. The doctor suggested it was time to contact Hospice.

The treatments were stopped and steroids masked what was going on inside his body. He actually felt a burst of energy. But it was short lived.

At that time Dad decided he wanted to go home. And stay.

It was familiar. There were things to be done. He didn't want to prolong anymore than necessary the inevitable. He signed a do not resuscitate document. Hospice visits were organized, and he went home.

Through August and September the four of us kids alternated visits as we could, trying to spend time with Dad.

This led up to the weekend of Sept. 16.

We didn't plan to go on that weekend. It is curious how, at the suggestion, we were all of one mind and we all showed up. Dad had a grocery list of chores to do around the house. He cut us no slack. Brothers Steve and David bore the brunt of the work as they visited more than I could.

Dad would have rather been doing it than supervising, but he came out in his wheelchair with oxygen in tow, observing and just being there with us. He even managed smiles at the things we would say.

Sunday came and most of us left for home, knowing we had seen him weakening in front of our eyes. Steve was able to stay. On Monday evening I was told Dad was getting worse. Morphine assisted his breathing, and he was no longer able to help himself up and down out of his favorite chair.

Tuesday the news was worse. Curious how we never heard Dad complain. Oh, he would tell us when he needed medicine or was uncomfortable, but he never complained. Never railed out in anger over his plight. Never was the victim.

Wednesday I was assured that the only thing certain was the uncertainty. No sense coming down because Dad, who had been such a fighter throughout the past two years, might linger for days, or even weeks. Thursday at 4:09 a.m. the call came that Dad had died nine minutes earlier.

Curious how we remember the exact time we answered the phone receiving the bad news.
What I learned from my father through all this was courage, maintaining a sense of humor despite the odds and dignity. He made the best of the worst situation.

There were times when I would become angry over what I thought was unnecessary pain those last two weeks. But I would be reminded that this was the way Dad wanted it to be. So who was I to argue or complain, if he didn't?

A friend of mine, Bruce Mims, may have summed it up best in an e-mail he sent the day Dad died.

"I want you to know how much I respect your Dad's integrity for allowing the process of life to follow its natural course as much as is possible," Bruce wrote.

It is curious, but it is as if Dad wanted to see all of us kids one last time. And once he did, he was ready to go Home.

The circumstances were bad, to be sure. Still, we should all be so lucky as to do it our way.

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Mike Moser is the editor of the Crossville Chronicle. His column is published periodically on Fridays.