It is exactly a week ago since my dear Dad died.
He had DLB for about 6 years, during which my Mum cared for him at home until the end of January this year. He went into a care home as Mum could not cope with looking after him any more; she is not in good health herself, and it was just too much for her.
He was admitted to hospital with an array of problems, and 24hrs after going in, the hospital rang and told me he only had a matter of hours left.....the hours turned into days, and the days into a whole week. They could not believe how strong he turned out to be. During this week, our lives were played out in one hospital room. Dad was unconcious, but we still chatted to him, told him things that we needed to say, and, on the whole, made ourselves ready for the final farewell. When it came, it was peaceful, pain-free and dignified. He breathed out, and simply did not breath in again.
The hospital were fantastic with him during that last week. I don't know why I am surprised at the care and attention he received - I didn't expect him to be pushed into a corner and forgotton or anything - but the gentleness and dignity he was given was second to none. Every day he was washed, shaved, his mouth and nostrils cleaned, hair combed, and clean pyjamas put on. This made such a difference to us, his family, that he always looked comfortable and loved. I would have hated it if he appeared unkempt and neglected.
I was surprised, but pleased, that his death certificate records the cause of death to be Dementia. It was actually pneumonia, but his dementia was the root cause. I'm glad that this wasn't ignored.
I feel so sad. Not for his actual passing - we knew that it was inevitable, and that it was, in fact, a blessing. We would not have wished his life to continue in that state. In so many ways, the person that was my Dad 'left the building' long ago, lost in the fog of dementia. He left behind a beligerent old chap, who looked like him, but didn't act, talk, think or behave the same. We still had glimpses of the 'real' Dad from time to time, but as the years went by, these were less and less frequent. It still hurts though.
The final page is written.
The book is closed.
We are at peace.
jks
He had DLB for about 6 years, during which my Mum cared for him at home until the end of January this year. He went into a care home as Mum could not cope with looking after him any more; she is not in good health herself, and it was just too much for her.
He was admitted to hospital with an array of problems, and 24hrs after going in, the hospital rang and told me he only had a matter of hours left.....the hours turned into days, and the days into a whole week. They could not believe how strong he turned out to be. During this week, our lives were played out in one hospital room. Dad was unconcious, but we still chatted to him, told him things that we needed to say, and, on the whole, made ourselves ready for the final farewell. When it came, it was peaceful, pain-free and dignified. He breathed out, and simply did not breath in again.
The hospital were fantastic with him during that last week. I don't know why I am surprised at the care and attention he received - I didn't expect him to be pushed into a corner and forgotton or anything - but the gentleness and dignity he was given was second to none. Every day he was washed, shaved, his mouth and nostrils cleaned, hair combed, and clean pyjamas put on. This made such a difference to us, his family, that he always looked comfortable and loved. I would have hated it if he appeared unkempt and neglected.
I was surprised, but pleased, that his death certificate records the cause of death to be Dementia. It was actually pneumonia, but his dementia was the root cause. I'm glad that this wasn't ignored.
I feel so sad. Not for his actual passing - we knew that it was inevitable, and that it was, in fact, a blessing. We would not have wished his life to continue in that state. In so many ways, the person that was my Dad 'left the building' long ago, lost in the fog of dementia. He left behind a beligerent old chap, who looked like him, but didn't act, talk, think or behave the same. We still had glimpses of the 'real' Dad from time to time, but as the years went by, these were less and less frequent. It still hurts though.
The final page is written.
The book is closed.
We are at peace.
jks