My Father Passed Christmas, 1992

 

The reality is that I have lived longer without my dad than I have lived with him.  He lived a great life and died when he was 80. But, he didn't live long enough for my life.  Having said that, I was blessed that I got to share my first 25 years with him as my best friend.  I often wonder when I will finally be over it and when I will feel joy at Christmas.  From what I have been let to believe, there are some people who never get over losing their dad.  I think I am one of those people.  

As sad as I am that he left us in 1992, I recently have become grateful that he left us in 1992 and not 2021.  Last evening, I read Winnipeg Free Press editor Paul Samyn's emotional response to his mother's death.  She did not die because of Covid19, however, there many factors because of Covid19 that may have contributed to her death.  

My father spent a little over two months in St. Boniface Hospital before he passed.  The staff at the hospital cared not only for my dad but for our whole family.  We got to know all of his caregivers by name and developed relationships with many of them.  The staff were not exhausted from mandatory overtime and other factors the way they are now.  The staff were not burned out and they did not feel a sense of hopelessness.  My father's Resident worked six days a week but he came on his day off to visit my dad, not as his doctor but as his friend.  I don't know if we were supposed to but we visited whenever we wanted, and there was no restrictions on visitors so there was often a lot of us there to be with my dad.  About once a week, in the middle of the night, my dad would experience delirium.  The first couple of times my mom or I was asked to come in to help the staff, but after that, they had enough experience with his life story that they could handle this on our own.  We shared a lot of laughter with the staff, and in the end, we shared tears.  The staff had the time to really know my dad.  Not only that, but our family became close friends with another family who had a member in the hospital.  This was somewhat remarkable because the family were new immigrants to Canada and there was a language barrier.  Their family member recovered and she and her family continued to visit my dad.  That story would not happen in 2021.  

My oldest sister missed saying her good-byes to my father by a few minutes.  But, my father's body stayed until she got there.  Afterwards, my two sisters, me, and our husbands were given access to a lounge where we made decisions.  I don't recall where my mother was but she was probably being comforted by hospital staff.  My sisters and I decided who was going to stay where that night and what was going to happen the next couple of days and who was going to do what.  We drank coffee and cried and laughed and cried some more.  I don't know how long we were in the lounge but I am guessing it was a while.  We didn't feel rushed.  

Essentially, other than my father dying, our experience at St. Boniface Hospital was extraordinary.  We learned that caring for a loved one involves the whole team.  We enjoyed the friendship and the daily visit of the housekeeper just as much as any other team member.  We also learned that caring was the most important component of the care.  I can't remember what medications my father took or many specifics of the medical he received but I remember his care-givers and their kindness.  And, I am forever grateful.  

I know our experience would not be replicated in 2021 with visitor restrictions, hospitals being over-crowded, staff having no time to do anything but essential patient care, and staff suffering from compassion fatigue as well as just general exhaustion.  

We may never get this virus under control.  I am feeling pessimistic, but that maybe just because this time of year sucks for me.  But, if we are to ever get the pandemic behind us, we all need to do our part.