Mom got a urinary tract infection and some other serious illness at the same time. There was NO Way she was going to be able to stay home with Harry. She was gone for 10 days, then she needed rehab. She lost 20 pounds total during this time. She was really weak.
Dad was home alone, so we tried to figure out what to do with him. We hired a few different people then. He needed company, but he also had to have someone watch him, so he didn’t set the house on fire. We kids and my husband took turns staying overnight at his house. It was strange, because he would wander around in the middle of the night and he wasn’t recognizing us. “Why are you here?” he would say. He was really confused.
At the end of mom’s 10 days, she went to a nursing facility. We put him in the room with her for that 30 day period because it was an answer to our 24/7 dilemma of who was going to stay with Harry. This also gave them both a companion. But dad thought mom was there to serve him, he was so used to her caring for him. She was so glad when it was time to go home!
He went home, too, but only for a short time. By the time of his next hospital stay, it was evident he needed assistance all the time. He could not lift himself onto or off of a toilet. That was the deal breaker for mom. She did not want to take over diaper duty.
Unfortunately, whenever my dad was in the hospital more than a week, we found out they stopped giving him some of his regular medicines. Dad was on an antidepressant and antipsychotic, just to name a few. WHY on earth would they discontinue those two? But at this time I was unaware. I was very worried about him and afraid he would not live long. I talked to my pastor and he said he would go to the hospital with me and visit my dad.
My father did not go to church and I wanted to make sure he was at peace with God. Chet (the pastor) and I traveled to the Cleveland Clinic and went up to see him. Our intent was to pray with him, and minister to him in any way we could. I think I said Dad was about as deaf as a stone without the hearing aids. Apparently someone had misplaced them and he was in a world of his own. So, we arrived at his room and realized we are going to have to SHOUT anything we say. Dad had grown a good sized white beard and he looked pretty mean.
Chet and I sat down on either side of him and Chet decided to ask him if he knew Jesus. He had to yell it.
My father glared at him and shouted “ARE YOU F*****G KIDDING ME?”
Chet sat up straighter and looked like he had been slapped. My dad said it again.
So we both stood up and were talking about 5 feet from Dad’s bed. We were praying for him, but not necessarily loud because he did not need to hear us. Dad had his eyes closed, half nodding off. Then he opened his eyes.
“WHAT ARE YOU F*****G STUPID PEOPLE DOING HERE?” I am not sure if he recognized me or not.
Poor Chet looked like he had never heard someone he was praying for say such things. (I am sure that isn’t language pastors hear very often.) As loud as I could, I yelled back, "We"re PRAYING for you, Dad!" He just shook his head.
On our way through the hall, going to the car, Chet broke the silence. “Sandy.... I now have quite a different picture of what your childhood was like.” (That’s an understatement.)
I also asked the hospital if they took him off of any of the medications he usually took, because he behaved in a more nasty manner than he had been. Of course they did! So we made sure they continued to prescribe the medicine that he needed while he was there.
Dad was always clean shaven. This is a picture of what he looked like at this time, in the hospital with no hearing aids.
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