The Last 10 Years - Chapter 13 - My Dad

WARNING: This is a LONG post. If you're in a hurry, now is not the time to read it.

As I've written about our lives over the past 10 years, I've made it a point to include the not-so-great experiences along with the good ones because life is full of ups and downs and one cannot truly appreciate the good without experiencing the bad. This post will illustrate one of the saddest points in my life and I actually considered omitting this topic but my history would not be complete without it. I also feel it would be an insult to my dad not to write about him. Some of you readers know the whole story, some of you know a little and maybe some of you know nothing. So here goes....(where are my tissues?)

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In the spring of 2007 my parents decided to sell the home they'd lived in for nearly 20 years and build a new one. The house sold quickly and they moved into an apartment while the new house was under construction. They planned to do most of the work themselves as Dad knew quite a lot about plumbing and electrical work and Andy (my brother) had a lot of experience framing houses and my mom would take on the finish work i.e. painting, baseboards, tile, etc.

On a Saturday in May (I think) Mom, Dad and Andy were working on the house. Things were going smoothly and on schedule. The framing had begun, the floor joists on the main level were in and sheets of ply wood covered the joists so people could traverse the floor. Dad was standing on a sheet of ply wood and didn't realize it hadn't been nailed down. He stepped on the edge and the wood flipped through the joist and Dad went with it. He fell 10 feet and landed hard. As you can imagine, he was pretty sore after that. He had some pains and stiffness in his back and neck that just wouldn't go away. Finally, after a couple of months of pain, limited mobility and range of motion due to the fall, we thought, Dad went for an MRI.

We all knew that something wasn't right. It was Thursday, August 16 and I had gone for an early-morning bike ride. I got a flat tire just as I rode into Hyde Park. I wasn't far from Grandma Audrey's house so I walked there, thinking she could drive me home. I had actually passed Grandma on the road earlier. I thought she was maybe running to the store and would be right back. When I got to her house, only Grandpa was there. Grandma had gone to work in the temple. Grandpa doesn't drive anymore so I had to figure out a different way home. The clock was ticking and Brent had to go to work. I called my parents. It was a little before 7 and Dad was still in bed (strange). I told him what had happened and he offered to come get me but he needed to shower first. It took forever for him to pick me up. When he arrived he made some comment about not being to move very fast these days. During the drive back to Providence (which also took forever, he wasn't driving very fast those days either) he mentioned that he'd had some scans and had some of the results.

Two days later on August 18, we all attended my cousin Kelsey's wedding. After the festivities we all went to Julie's house and Dad explained his results to us. The scan showed lesions throughout his torso, including his lung, and a mass in his neck...not the result of a 10-foot fall. The following Monday (Aug. 20) Mom and Dad went to the Huntsman Cancer Center in Salt Lake. They met with a neurosurgeon regarding the mass in Dad's neck. At that point they were told Dad had cancer but they didn't know yet what kind. It was thought that it would turn out to be multiple myeloma or lymphoma. The doctor was optimistic, saying both of these cancers were very treatable. He also said that if one had to have cancer, the one type of cancer one did not want to have was lung cancer and he was pretty sure that's not what Dad had since he had never been a smoker. My mom had called me and passed along this information and I called Grandma Audrey and gave her the news. I remember feeling relieved then, like the weight was lifted off my shoulders and there was hope for a positive outcome. In the meantime, more tests were done to determine the type of cancer.

August 24, 2007. The tests results were back. Type of cancer: Adenocarcinoma aka Non-small Cell Lung Cancer. We were shocked and our worlds began to shatter. Dad had an appointment the following Tuesday (Aug. 28) with an oncologist at Huntsman. Treatment options would be discussed as well as survival rates. I knew from my own research and what I remembered from nursing school that, based on the information Mom and Dad had been given at that point, Dad was probably a stage 4 and that his prognosis was very poor. Survival rates were very low; 19% for 1-year survival and only 1% for a 5-year survival. I kept this to myself except when Eddie called to talk. He'd done his own research as well and had also talked to a pathologist he knew from Ohio State and had come to the same conclusions as I had. Unfortunately, we were right.

We had a special family fast on Sunday, August 26. Brittany chose to fast, it was her first time. I was so proud of her.

It was decided that Dad would undergo radiation for the tumor in his neck. The goal was to shrink this tumor enough so it wouldn't invade the spinal column or pinch off the air-way. Dad had to drive to Salt Lake every day Monday through Friday for a 15-minute radiation treatment. He had a total of 15 treatments. He began radiation on Thursday, August 30. Normally radiation isn't done on weekends but that next Monday was Labor Day and patients were scheduled for treatments the Saturday before. That Saturday was September 1, Brittany's baptism day. Eddie had flown in from Ohio for the weekend. It was a busy weekend with the baptism, Brooklyn's birthday (Sept. 2) and Andy and Mallory blessing their baby. Eddie opted to drive to Salt Lake with Dad for his appointment that Saturday morning. Dad's appointment was scheduled for early that morning but I was so worried he wouldn't make it back in time for the baptism. I really wanted him to be there because I knew this would probably be the only one of his grandchildren's baptisms he attended in the flesh. I made some phone calls and requested that our ward be last in line at the font (it was a stake baptism, 9 kids, I think). I made it clear that when Brittany's turn came, if Dad wasn't back, we would wait. We actually only had to wait for about 10 extra minutes. It was a special day.

The night before the baptism, the whole family gathered at Grandma Audrey's house for pizza. After we'd eaten Dad sat us all down and explained the situation so that we were all on the same page and understood what was happening and what to expect. He made sure everyone understood that there was no cure. We could only hope for time. The oncologist had told him that if he responded well to treatment he could expect to have a year left. Maybe 2 years if things went extremely well and we were really lucky. There were a lot of tears shed. I know I'd never seen my brothers cry as adults until that night. Dad told us that he didn't want us to dwell on the sad parts and he kept saying, "Live your lives." That phrase kind of became a theme, I think. I often think of it when I think of my dad. Dad said several times for us to not worry about him. He said he had the easy part.

September 11, 2007. I had the opportunity to drive down with Dad for his radiation appointment. We had the most wonderful conversations. I had some burning questions I wanted to ask and the drive created the perfect chance. It was just the two of us. It was a great day. The leaves in Sardine Canyon were just beginning to change. The weather was warm but not hot, fall was in the air. I asked my questions and he answered them. He was very frank and I appreciated that so much . I felt such a sense of peace and calm after getting his take on a few things. We talked about lots of things on the way to Huntsman. After his treatment, we went to lunch. Dad drove to Olive Garden in Layton. I don't think he's ever cared much for pasta but he knew I loved that place. He didn't even ask me where I wanted to go, he just drove there. If he'd asked my opinion I would have named somewhere I knew he liked. Dad ordered an appetizer. It was mozzarella sticks, deep-fried mushrooms and fried calamari. That was the first time I ever had calamari. Its not bad. I hate mushrooms, though. I remember Dad's cell phone rang while we were eating. It was Andy. He had a question about the house. (Yes, they were still building that house.)

After lunch Dad asked me to drive because he was really tired. I've always been a little nervous to drive my dad's cars. Andy wrecked the Lexus once and that was not a happy day. Dad had a Lincoln Navigator, a big beast, much bigger than my much smaller SUV that I was used to driving. I drove very carefully.

Dad was scheduled for a brain scan on September 27. If there were no lesions in his brain he would be a candidate for a new experimental treatment, an alternative to chemo. The new drugs work by inhibiting the formation of new blood vessels, thus preventing new tumors from growing. We understood it would not be a cure, there was no cure. We could only hope for time and quality of life. Unfortunately, that brain scan showed 2 very small spots in Dad's brain and therefore he was not a candidate for the new treatment. He had to go the route of chemotherapy instead.

Dad had his first round of chemo mid-October. He did not respond well. He had a very unusual reaction. A day after the chemo Dad became very confused and disoriented and weak. Mom took him to the ER and he was admitted for a couple of days. He pulled out of it and got back his strength and things were pretty normal for the next couple of weeks.

Sunday, October 21, 2007 Mom and Dad came to Sacrament meeting with us because it was our ward's Primary program. They came to watch the girls participate. As I sat through that meeting, I glanced down the row at my parents; they were holding hands and I wondered how many more Sundays they would get to do that. Little did I know, that would be the last time.

Dad's second round of chemo was Friday, October 26. Things went well, Mom and Dad went out for dinner afterwards. Saturday morning, Dad slept in a bit while Mom went to work on the house. We were painting at that point and I happened to be there to help. Around 11 Mom decided to run back to the apartment to check on Dad. She called Sally (my Dad's sister who also there to paint) and said something wasn't right again. Sally went to check things out and when she got back I decided to go to the apartment to see what was going on as well. When I got there Dad was so confused. He couldn't sit still, his eyes would focus but I could tell he wasn't really seeing anything. He didn't know who I was. I knew that he must have recognized Sally and that she was probably the last person he recognized because he was stuck on her name. He called everyone Sally after that, even Andy. He couldn't verbalize his desires and he became so frustrated. He kept saying, "Damn it, Sally!" over and over. Mom and I decided to take him to the hospital. We knew we couldn't handle him and we were afraid he would get hurt. We managed to get him down the stairs. Mom walked in front of him and I steadied him from behind. Dad was wearing a white T-shirt. It was one we'd given him. It had a picture of my kids on it and it read, "This Grandpa belongs to Brittany, Brooklyn and Damon". I noticed that there was an unusual amount of hair on the back of that shirt. It was then that I realized his hair was starting to fall out.

Mom and I had the hardest time getting Dad into the car. He didn't want to get in and when we finally got him to sit on the seat he wouldn't duck his head or bend his knees. In the end, we managed to sit him on the tailgate of the Navigator and we kind of slid him into the cargo area. I sat there with him while Mom drove. Dad's restlessness continued and even increased at the hospital. He was still cussing and swearing at Sally. He was admitted and sedated. Then finally, he did calm down. We stayed with Dad for a few hours and then went home to get some rest. Our phone rang about 6:00 Sunday morning. Brent answered it and I knew immediately that things had taken a turn for the worst. It was Mom calling to say that Dad had developed pneumonia during the night and things weren't looking good. I got up and headed for the hospital. Dad had been moved to ICU. His breathing was so labored, it was wearing him out. He had sleep apnea and wore a CPAP (continuous positive airway pressure) machine at night at home. He'd been put on the CPAP so he could breath better. Mom, Julie, Andy, and I stayed at the hospital all day. Other friends and family came and went also. We had a lot of support. Dad stayed about the same through the day. He had been unconscious since the previous night. Just as we were getting ready to leave for the night, Dad starting having seizures. Andy and I were in his room when the first one started. After that first seizure passed and Dad seemed a little more stable, we all finally left for the night. I don't think any of us really wanted to leave. Mom went home too, but I don't think she slept much; she was back at the hospital early the next morning. Dad had a rough night. The seizures continued through out the night, more frequently and lasting longer. His lungs were getting worse, as they continued to fill with fluid and his body was working so hard to get enough oxygen he was intubated and put on a ventilator. I got to the hospital before 8 and Julie and Andy arrived soon after that. Mom had been talking to Dad's doctor. He was encouraging us to turn off the ventilator and let go. It was obvious that things were not going to improve. Dad had had so many seizures there was most likely some neurological damage and his fluid-filled lungs hadn't responded to any treatment. We made phone calls and waited as family gathered. Brent cancelled his patients for the day so he could come to the hospital and be with us. His parents took the kids for the day. Julie's in-laws were available to take her little boy as well. Eddie and Michelle were still in Ohio trying to get a flight to Utah.

When all of the family had gathered in Dad's room, we had family prayer. Mom said the prayer. After that, we left while the nurse and respiratory therapist extubated Dad. We took that opportunity to reminisce a little and speculate what Dad would say if he realized all of us were standing around watching him and worrying. Then we all went back in Dad's room and sat and waited. Julie, Andy and I took turns holding Dad's hands and just being near him. Those present were Mom, Julie, Andy, me, and our spouses, Grandpa Eddie and Grandma Audrey (Dad's parents), and Sally. Dad's brother Ned came a little later and so did Grandpa and Grandma Bartlett (Mom's parents). Mom's sister LaRee and her husband Bill also came and went. As Dad continued to struggle for air, we all said our good-byes and just sat with him. His breathing became much more sporadic and labored. He would take a breath and pause and each time we'd think that was the end. And then Dad would exhale and so would we and he'd struggle some more. I remember the room had gotten very quiet, reverent, even. The Spirit was there. The only sounds were Dad's breathing and the rest of us sniffling. Dad took another breath. Another pause. And then......nothing. We knew it was over. Everyone was crying. I looked at my watch. It said 11:04. It was Monday, October 29, 2007.

The rest of that day was spent notifying people that Dad had passed and making funeral arrangements. We chose a cemetery plot, and flowers and started planning the funeral program.

Eddie and Michelle arrived that night and we all gathered at Julie's to make the plans that needed to be made. Fortunately, we also spent some time reminiscing and laughing. It sure helps ease the heartache when you can do that.

The next day Mom, Julie, Eddie, Andy and I went to the funeral home to select a casket. As we were looking, we came upon this black one. I think Mom and I saw it first. It was shiny and just beautiful. We had the same thought, it reminded us of the black Lexus Dad had had a few years before. Everyone else agreeed and thats how we chose the casket.

Planning funeral is not fun. Its your last chance, the ultimate chance to pay tribute to a passed loved one. You want everything to be just right, the way that person would want it. We wanted to make sure we didn't ask anyone to speak that my dad didn't like or anyone who would talk too long. Dad hated long talks. We wanted songs that he liked, but he was never a huge fan of hymns so we chose primary songs. With sons-in-law and so many brothers-in-law it was hard to decide who would do what. Who was going to give the prayers? Dedicate the grave? Pallbearers? Who would write the obituary and what would it say? In the end, Grandpa Bartlett said the Family Prayer, Brent and Blake (Julie's husband) gave the prayers during the service, Sally gave the Life Sketch, Brittany and Brooklyn sang, "I Am A Child Of God", Mom's sister LaNae and her husband Todd also sang. Julie, Eddie, Andy and I all spoke, I even played "Chariots of Fire" on the piano because Dad loved that and he used to always ask me to play it for him. There were a couple other speakers and Brooks (Sally's husband) dedicated the grave. I felt like it was a program Dad would have been happy with. The funeral took place Friday, November 2.

My mom finished the house and moved in about a week before Christmas. She invited Andy, Mallory and Alli to live with her. She is now busy finishing the basement and getting the yard in, especially so the grandkids have grass to play on when they come to visit.

I miss my dad. I know he is in a better place and that the Lord wouldn't have taken him if it wasn't his time. But sometimes I just wish I could talk to him. He always had all the answers. He knew how to fix just about everything. He had a great sense of humor, dry as it was. He loved to tease. He was a great example to me in so many ways. In everything from his testimony and activity in the church to the way he managed his finances to his honesty, integrity and work ethic and everything in between. My kids miss their grandpa. Brooklyn still struggles quite a bit. She is my tenderheart and tears up easily. Damon asks, "Why did Grandpa die?" and "When is Jesus coming back?" Brittany doesn't say much. There are some things she just keeps to herself. I am so grateful for eternal families. I am grateful for the gospel and the peace it brings during the hard times.

I cannot end this post without acknowledging my support system. To all of you that sent cards, letters, emails, and flowers, thank you. Thank you for the phone calls, especially the ones that came from Nova Scotia. That really meant a lot that you would take the time. Thank you for all the prayers that went up on behalf of my family. To my mom, Julie, Eddie and Andy. I'm sure this experience will be one of the most difficult things we'll ever face. I'm so glad we have each other and that we have been able to rally together to lift one another. I am grateful we have good relationships with each other. Those relationships are stronger now and we are all closer. We have a great family. Blake, Michelle and Mallory, I cherish each of you as much as I cherish the siblings I grew up with. Thanks for sticking with us and giving us your love and support. To Grandma Audrey and Grandpa Eddie, and Sally, thank you for being there and for all your help. I know your hearts were broken too. Grandpa and Grandma Bartlett and all of my mom's family, thank you for all you did. I so appreciated the offers you made to babysit and all your help with Mom's new house. Grandpa, thank you for initiating the family fasts. Dave and Karen (Brent's parents) I am so grateful to you for stepping in and taking our kids that last day Dad was in the hospital and the days leading up to the funeral. It meant so much to me that you cleared your schedules and made yourselves available to us. And last, but certainly not least, thank you to my wonderful husband, Brent. You were (are) my rock. Thank you for helping me to get through this tough time and keep things in perspective. Thank you for holding me and just letting me cry. Thank you for the preisthood blessings. I feel so blessed that you are able and willing to provide those for me and the kids when we need them. You are my knight-in-shining-armor. I love you.