subject: Dad’s in a wonderful hospice facility now . . .

Dear Girlfriends,

I sent this note to a few of you on Wednesday. I don’t know why, but on Wednesday I didn’t feel ready to send it to you all; but you’re all part of the family now, so I thought I should pass it on . . . An update will follow in a few . . . .

And as some of you know, today is my birthday. I’m on my way over to be with Dad. Hannah’s there now. Things have changed and he has one foot in the next life . . . we’re happy he’s sleeping peacefully. Early Wednesday morning he sang Happy Birthday to me . . . we hugged, he talked about my birth . . . I’m very blessed.

love to you all,

Susan

written 12/3/08:

We moved Dad today to St. Mary’s in residence hospice . . . As I was putting Dad’s right leg on the ground in preparation for a transfer from the car to the wheelchair, he said, “I don’t want to go in.” Tears were running down his face. I stopped what I was doing and made room for my sister Jan to sit in the wheelchair, which was right next to the car. Tony sat in the driver’s seat next to Dad and I kneeled in front of him. He talked and cried; we comforted him and hugged him. After a bit he said, “Okay, I’m ready to go in.” He’s so concerned about being “abandoned” inside this place . . . we reassured him that we’re not abandoning him and that if he’s really unhappy there, we’ll figure out a way to be able to bring him home. He said, “I have no doubt that you wouldn’t do that, you ALL have so much gumption.”

My man knew exactly what to say, “Clyde, we all learned it from you. You’re our role model. You’re a very strong man.”

He turned to Tony and said, “Thank you.”

(*)

Poor Dad . . . in September he won a 3-hour tennis match in a national tournament and now he’s essentially a paraplegic with terminal stage 4 cancer . . . it’s been a lot to absorb.

We’re continuing to take it one day at a time . . . right now T and I are scheduled to return on the 11th. I may extend my stay . . . I’ll see.

When we left Dad this late afternoon (Mom’s sleeping over with him on this first night in a new place) he was really looking the worse we’ve seen him . . . he was chilled, then got warm and seemed feverish, he just seemed so . . I don’t really know how to say it . . so, uncomfortable. He said he was in pain but he didn’t know where. His hands were so swollen. We left him with his feet elevated and hands resting on his chest. I hope he and Mom have a restful night . . . will keep you posted.

aloha, Susan

(*) What I didn’t write at the time because it took all I had to simply write what I did, was that once Dad had made up his mind to exit the car and enter what he knew was to be his last resting place, he put on his smile and noticed a nice looking, petite blonde volunteer in a Christmas sweater who had just stepped outside of the building into the bright sunshine. She approached my Dad with a huge grin on her face. Dad, ever the flirt, grinned right back.

“Why hello there!” she said, “I’m Bonnie and I’m happy to meet you.”

“Bonnie,” he said, very matter-of-factly, “Well, you know what my name is, don’t you?”

She looked puzzled and replied, “No, I don’t.”

“Well it’s Clyde, Bonnie.”

They enjoyed a moment, which us outsiders can only imagine. And with that, he entered the hospice facility.