I have...

written this blog entry at least 4 times in the past 2 weeks, but nothing even sounded right or appropriate. Hopefully, this time I can get it right and get it over with!!! But first... in case you are here strictly for a corina freebie and don't wanna here a bittersweet story here is what ya get:


Just a little paper pack I actually have had now for almost a month! I worked on it while at the hospital when my father was there and was going to do a kit with it, but after I received so many PM's, emails, and saw all the kind words and posts at DST regarding my father, I figured that I would give it away instead to say "thanks". So, here is the linky for you:

http://rapidshare.com/files/10884645/corina_snowbunnies.zip.html

And now onto the post that I could never get "right"....

As I said, so many people have emailed me and sent private messages regarding my dad. I think I probably only responded to a couple of them because after being at the hospital for so long each day, the last thing I wanted to do was be on this thing! But I did want to let everyone know here that I am doing well... as well as to be expected anyways. December was such a rocky month. It felt like I was on a roller coaster at times. One day my dad would be talking and awake, the next he was completely lethargic and didn't even open his eyes, and sometimes he was talking about getting up to walk around.

In the last days at the hospital, the doctors could not find 1 particular thing that was causing such fast deterioration of his body. There was mention of ASL (Lou Gehrig's disease), but in the end.... I didn't feel like I needed a "name" for what he had and felt like the surgery to get the biopsy wasn't worth it since he was having such a hard time already with everything else they were doing. The doctor and I had a meeting 3 days before Christmas and it was then she told me that there wasn't anything else that they could do for him. His body was starting to reject the tube feedings, so nothing was going "in" at that point. She told me it was time to look into hospice care. Even though I knew he wasn't going to "recover", NOTHING could ever prepare someone for these words... she gave him less than a month to live. I knew without a doubt that I had to have him come home... I knew that there was no way I could live with myself if I got a phone call from a nursing home saying that he passed away... alone. So I asked her to give me until after Xmas to prepare the house, get a full time care giver, and get myself ready emotionally for this.

So, on Tuesday December 26th my father arrived at our home by ambulance. The nurse I had hired NEVER showed up which made for a very hard and long night taking care of him. I stayed by his side, gave him his meds, changed him, made sure he didn't try to get out of bed, etc. I don't think I slept more than 1/2 hour. There was one point during the night that I was giving up hope that I could handle this and the thought ran across my mind that I would need to bring him to a home, but hospice and the nurse I hired arrived that next morning and things settled down a bit. My father didn't really wake up that day... opened his eyes a few times, but that was about it. I asked if he needed anything, if he was in pain, he answered no.

That night, the 27th, Joe and the nurse took care of my dad so that I could finally get a little sleep.... then like a blessing in disguise, at 6:30am on the 28th, the relief nurse showed up to take over for the night nurse. I got out of bed to answer the door, let her in, checked on my dad and asked the 1st nurse how his night was. She said it was fine, nothing much happened. I got the relief nurse up to speed on my dad and at about 7am, I left them in his room and went right into the next room to my office to call hospice about some meds I needed some info. on. Within 2 minutes, I heard my father coughing, somewhat trying to catch his breath... I ran into the room and immediately knew it was happening. Hospice had given me some "signs" too look for and one of them is breathing described as a "death rattle". I began to cry of course. My dad opened his eyes, I asked if he was ok, if he needed me to do anything, if he had pain... he said no. I asked the nurses to leave the room. The very last words he heard from me was "Blake wanted me to tell you that he loved you, we love you". My father closed his eyes, his breaths got further and further apart, and by 7:15am.... his breathing and pulse had stopped. I stayed with him for another 15 minutes or so, held his hand, and cried.

I know it sounds weird, but all things considered... it couldn't have happened any better and I have very few regrets about those last days. I feel like he waited for me that morning... it could have happened at any point during the night while I was sleeping, but it didn't. I got to be by his side the entire time, he was at home... his home, around familiar surroundings, and he left the world with no pain. My dad had been so miserable for so long now, I know he is in a better place now. I feel so fortunate to have had it happen the way it did. I know that if I got a call from a hospital or something, I would have regrets my entire life, I would never forgive myself for letting it happen that way and it would continue to haunt me forever.

Since the 28th, things have been up and down for me. There are some times that I feel fine, can do daily things like laundry, dishes, cooking, etc. and there are times where I just start crying and all I want to do is curl up in bed or take a long bath to cry. I miss talking to him. My father was always the first person I would tell anything to, besides Joe of course. Anything that was going on in my life, he was always one of the first people to know. We had an unusually close relationship... besides the few months he spent in Miami sailing after I graduated high school and the 2 months he spent at the care facility this past October/November... we have always lived with one another. It has always been him and I. We were each other's best friends. He was an amazing man and if I can be half as good a parent to Blake and Makena as he was to me, I know that my kids will turn out o.k. He taught my so much about the world, about myself, and about the kind of person that I should always strive to be. My father may be physically gone now from the world, but I know, without a doubt in my mind, his memory will never fade and he will always remain in my heart and mind.

I love you papa....