Hey everyone,
Below is the obituary and information for services coming up Friday and Saturday. After the church service on Saturday, there will be a Celebration of Life in Williamsport, MD at the fire hall, where we hope to tie up our sadness with lots of great memories and belly laughs. We believe that is how Dad would want his memory to be carried on. Please join us and share you stories!
http://obit.minnichfh.com/obitdisplay.html?id=1378191&listing=Current
Wednesday, April 30, 2014
Sunday, April 27, 2014
Dad says, "I'm going home......"
On Friday, we three "kids" received a call from Mom around 2pm. Dad had asked for us to come. Earlier that afternoon, Dad had asked to be shaved, made a donation to Hospice stating there would be no reason for them to come back on Monday, and said he was "going home."
Through the weekend we have been by his side and have continued to care for him. Although his flesh is unrecognizable, Jim Snead is in there. He's asked for a beer, but said he'd drink it later, followed up with a comment about the "light weights." He's ordered off a menu from somewhere. He's been impatient with how long this has taken, and has been waving to folks we cannot see.
This morning he has plainly stated that he is going home, and we pray that it is so.
Through the weekend we have been by his side and have continued to care for him. Although his flesh is unrecognizable, Jim Snead is in there. He's asked for a beer, but said he'd drink it later, followed up with a comment about the "light weights." He's ordered off a menu from somewhere. He's been impatient with how long this has taken, and has been waving to folks we cannot see.
This morning he has plainly stated that he is going home, and we pray that it is so.
Wednesday, April 16, 2014
Collecting Data and Weighing His Options Before His Next "Move"
Dad continues to rest comfortably in his home, surrounded by his felines and our family. In addition to regular visits from Hospice, we've also brought in 24 hour caregivers, as well. Although lately Dad's willingness to move from the bed has been minimal, he still tries, and my mom cannot move him by herself.
Dad has met with a friend from the funeral home. He's ironed out his arrangements, to include who is to speak and when at his service and celebration of life and who will be his pall bearers. He's the planner, and continues to analyze and weigh his options every step of this journey. Since he's finalized those arrangements, I've observed him to sleep more and eat/drink less.
I do need to share a most exciting series of conversations I've had with him over the last 4 days. You're probably thinking, "What could possibly be exciting about all this?????"
Trust me, this is good stuff......
On Saturday, Dad fell into the deepest sleep we had witnessed up to that point. He was out. Nothing was waking him. At one point, he didn't wake, but he winced in pain. Jill tried to get him to respond to a request for pain meds, but he just wasn't waking up. Later that night, he started mumbling that "someone was going to be held responsible for those treatments...." I went to him and sat with him on his bed. He opened his eyes and told me that he had been misdiagnosed. When I told him he had not been misdiagnosed, he looked me square in the eye, with a very puzzled look on his face, and said, "You mean to tell me that I still have pancreatic cancer? That makes no sense at all." At the time, I chalked it up to the disease, a dream, the end of life confusion, maybe the pain meds. I didn't think too much of it, really.
On Monday, while Dad was sleeping he started asking for candy and pretzels to eat. I jumped up to provide him with a candy buffet: Reese's PB cups, Twizzlers, Mary Jane's, Good & Plenty. He opted for part of a PB cup and Twizzler, but seemed disappointed with how the candy was going down. He really forced it. He fell back to sleep for a little while and then I woke him up when I was going to leave. He perked up and said, "Before you leave, I would like for you to help me. The question that I have..... I have is a dilemma....I need to know when I'm going to get back to the way I was.....when I felt good and I could eat whatever I want and not feel full or sick."
"Dad, have you felt like that recently?"
"Oh yeah. I can eat whatever I want, and then I see you and you tell me that I still have pancreatic cancer."
"So you have periods that are like dreams where you aren't sick, and you feel good, and you eat what you want?"
"Yeah."
"And then you wake up and are still sick and feel crappy. Is that why you asked me if you still had pancreatic cancer the other night?"
"Yeah."
"So in these dreams where you feel good are there other people there with you?"
"Oh yeah."
"Who is there?"
"Everyone. Everyone is there."
"Like who?"
"Everyone."
Then Mom asks, "Are your parents there? Are Pop and Grandma there? Are my parents there?"
"Oh yeah. Everyone is there."
"Is Jesus there?"
"Sometimes He is and sometimes He isn't."
At that point, it really seemed as if he was experiencing what he determined to be a "dilemma." Even at this point, Jim Snead is analyzing his options and gathering the necessary data to make a final determination....this life, or the next? Mom and I reassured him that it was okay to be with "everyone" and to go enjoy his life where he was no longer sick and he could eat what he wants and do what he wants. We would join him one day, as well. It was a most amazing conversation, and one I was excited to have with my father!
Although physically, the man that lays in that bed each day is not my dad, the man inside that head of his is still my dad. Those one liners still come out; his opinions are still put out there; and the need to analyze this most current "situation" is evident. I will miss him in the flesh very much, but I will always enjoy his spirit.
Prayers for all of us right now. We may have him with us another week.....maybe. Pray for a peaceful passing and transition from this life to his next.
Much love to all......Jen
Dad has met with a friend from the funeral home. He's ironed out his arrangements, to include who is to speak and when at his service and celebration of life and who will be his pall bearers. He's the planner, and continues to analyze and weigh his options every step of this journey. Since he's finalized those arrangements, I've observed him to sleep more and eat/drink less.
I do need to share a most exciting series of conversations I've had with him over the last 4 days. You're probably thinking, "What could possibly be exciting about all this?????"
Trust me, this is good stuff......
On Saturday, Dad fell into the deepest sleep we had witnessed up to that point. He was out. Nothing was waking him. At one point, he didn't wake, but he winced in pain. Jill tried to get him to respond to a request for pain meds, but he just wasn't waking up. Later that night, he started mumbling that "someone was going to be held responsible for those treatments...." I went to him and sat with him on his bed. He opened his eyes and told me that he had been misdiagnosed. When I told him he had not been misdiagnosed, he looked me square in the eye, with a very puzzled look on his face, and said, "You mean to tell me that I still have pancreatic cancer? That makes no sense at all." At the time, I chalked it up to the disease, a dream, the end of life confusion, maybe the pain meds. I didn't think too much of it, really.
On Monday, while Dad was sleeping he started asking for candy and pretzels to eat. I jumped up to provide him with a candy buffet: Reese's PB cups, Twizzlers, Mary Jane's, Good & Plenty. He opted for part of a PB cup and Twizzler, but seemed disappointed with how the candy was going down. He really forced it. He fell back to sleep for a little while and then I woke him up when I was going to leave. He perked up and said, "Before you leave, I would like for you to help me. The question that I have..... I have is a dilemma....I need to know when I'm going to get back to the way I was.....when I felt good and I could eat whatever I want and not feel full or sick."
"Dad, have you felt like that recently?"
"Oh yeah. I can eat whatever I want, and then I see you and you tell me that I still have pancreatic cancer."
"So you have periods that are like dreams where you aren't sick, and you feel good, and you eat what you want?"
"Yeah."
"And then you wake up and are still sick and feel crappy. Is that why you asked me if you still had pancreatic cancer the other night?"
"Yeah."
"So in these dreams where you feel good are there other people there with you?"
"Oh yeah."
"Who is there?"
"Everyone. Everyone is there."
"Like who?"
"Everyone."
Then Mom asks, "Are your parents there? Are Pop and Grandma there? Are my parents there?"
"Oh yeah. Everyone is there."
"Is Jesus there?"
"Sometimes He is and sometimes He isn't."
At that point, it really seemed as if he was experiencing what he determined to be a "dilemma." Even at this point, Jim Snead is analyzing his options and gathering the necessary data to make a final determination....this life, or the next? Mom and I reassured him that it was okay to be with "everyone" and to go enjoy his life where he was no longer sick and he could eat what he wants and do what he wants. We would join him one day, as well. It was a most amazing conversation, and one I was excited to have with my father!
Although physically, the man that lays in that bed each day is not my dad, the man inside that head of his is still my dad. Those one liners still come out; his opinions are still put out there; and the need to analyze this most current "situation" is evident. I will miss him in the flesh very much, but I will always enjoy his spirit.
Prayers for all of us right now. We may have him with us another week.....maybe. Pray for a peaceful passing and transition from this life to his next.
Much love to all......Jen
Wednesday, March 19, 2014
It's no "coincidence"
Dad was released to Hospice care in his home yesterday. It was a fast and furious several hours, but with a little bit of teamwork, we created a very cozy living arrangement. It didn't take long for the felines to test out the new hospital bed and snuggle right in, even before Dad got home.
Before Dad left the hospital, one of the nurses who took care of him over the last couple of weeks stopped by on her day off to say good-bye. She was one of my favorites, and an absolute love, and you could tell she enjoyed Dad's one-liners. Pictured above is a copy of a note she wrote to him.
It is no coincidence that her name is "Faith."
Monday, March 17, 2014
Home to Hospice
Thinking about the end of life process in someone who is terminally ill is very difficult. We wonder when. We wonder what it will look like. We wonder what it "feels" like for our loved one. Just as I've turned to the internet to research this cancer, the doctors on Dad's team, and all of the treatments and surgeries, I've also turned to it looking for how we can help Dad move through these final stages. I actually want to share a resource with everyone because I appreciate the grace and love with which the site was written. Credit was given to Hospice: http://www.craigscause.ca/final-stage-of-death/
So after reading that, observing the changes in Dad the last week or so, and listening to the doctors, what became more clear was the need to introduce options. More intense care is needed. The tubes, the drains, the poking and prodding and endless procedures.......enough. Dad has had enough. We already know that there is nothing left to do to treat the cancer, and all care at this point would be palliative. So, the very, very difficult decision has been made to allow the doctors to release Dad to Hospice care in his home in WV. He just wants to go home and be in his house with his TV and all his stuff, and let's be honest.......with those felines. Once that is all set up and the appropriate equipment has been delivered to his house, we will transport Dad home.
I have observed Dad to become more confused with each day. He sleeps most of the time, and while floating in and out of sleep, he may ask a question about something from my childhood. ("Do you have any track meets this week?") Yet, he still throws in that occasional smarty pants response to a question, which has become something Dad is known for on Weinberg 5. He's got nurses and techs that come to visit and check in on him, even though he may not be their patient on that day. His "quips" have become quite popular. That sense of humor is still there:)
Much leaking still commences from time to time, and we pray a lot. Your prayers for strength and guidance and peace are much appreciated. We have been able to "keep on keeping on" b/c of your prayers. There's no doubt about. We appreciate all that everyone is doing for us so that we can be here with Dad. It helps to be able to divide and conquer with these tasks b/c it is all very overwhelming. The child care, the play dates, the kitty sitting.....everything....thank you!
Pray for a smoooooth transport and transition from hospital to home.
Much love to all......Jen
Friday, March 14, 2014
Preparation
I'm leaking. As I sit here and watch Dad sleep, I leak. Tears. Snot. All of it is just rolling out and pouring down my face. I'd describe myself as nothing short of a hot mess at the moment.
The rapid deterioration in the last week has caught me by surprise. I suppose a bit of that has been some aspect of denial. As someone close to my dad once said to me when this diagnosis first occurred, "Jen, if anyone can beat this, it's your dad." For the last 18 months, I have believed that to be true. My whole life my father has been "one tough dude," and I believe everyone else would concur on that note. However, as I sit here with my head on Dad's feet and watch him sleep, I see this little old man who put up one helluva fight, and now he's just tired......and I realize that the changes in his physical and emotional being are signs of preparation.... of shutting himself down.
Ugh....I'm leaking again.....
Earlier this evening, after Mom and Jill left, Dad asked me if I were "taking all of this in stride." "Yup," I responded. "Good," he said rather sternly. Sounds like Dad, right? He's not only preparing himself, now he's preparing me.
The rapid deterioration in the last week has caught me by surprise. I suppose a bit of that has been some aspect of denial. As someone close to my dad once said to me when this diagnosis first occurred, "Jen, if anyone can beat this, it's your dad." For the last 18 months, I have believed that to be true. My whole life my father has been "one tough dude," and I believe everyone else would concur on that note. However, as I sit here with my head on Dad's feet and watch him sleep, I see this little old man who put up one helluva fight, and now he's just tired......and I realize that the changes in his physical and emotional being are signs of preparation.... of shutting himself down.
Ugh....I'm leaking again.....
Earlier this evening, after Mom and Jill left, Dad asked me if I were "taking all of this in stride." "Yup," I responded. "Good," he said rather sternly. Sounds like Dad, right? He's not only preparing himself, now he's preparing me.
Tough day all the way around.....
For whatever reason, this posting didn't publish Wednesday night........
Those peaks of strength we witnessed over the weekend have since faded. Dad is getting weaker and shows no real interest in eating. Today he's had bouts of diarrhea and vomiting and a myriad of other issues. Throughout the day, different members of Dad's amazing team of docs visited the room to see the family. It appears that the CA19-9 levels are over 5000 and there is a strong belief that the cancer is on the move. The hope of doing a gastric bypass surgery to alleviate the eating issues has also since faded. The only solution now is to put in a GJ tube in Dad's gut for him to receive nutrition of some sort. Yes, it seems we are at that point of palliative care versus treatment and/or prevention of metastasis. It has been a day of devastating news.
Those peaks of strength we witnessed over the weekend have since faded. Dad is getting weaker and shows no real interest in eating. Today he's had bouts of diarrhea and vomiting and a myriad of other issues. Throughout the day, different members of Dad's amazing team of docs visited the room to see the family. It appears that the CA19-9 levels are over 5000 and there is a strong belief that the cancer is on the move. The hope of doing a gastric bypass surgery to alleviate the eating issues has also since faded. The only solution now is to put in a GJ tube in Dad's gut for him to receive nutrition of some sort. Yes, it seems we are at that point of palliative care versus treatment and/or prevention of metastasis. It has been a day of devastating news.
It is possible that Dad will be discharged on IV fluids and antibiotics. He wants to go home for at least a day to put some things in order, but then has agreed to move in with Matt, Sam, and me. Mom cannot do this alone. Everyone is always welcome to my home to visit!
In addition to the difficulties with my dad, my aunt (mom's sister) has lost the ability to talk or use her arms after having a procedure performed earlier this week.
Tough day all the way around.....
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