Still fighting
Wednesday evening we got a call that dad's condition had suddenly worsened and that the nursing staff did not think he would make it through the night. They said it would be good to come and be with him immediately if we wanted any further opportunities for him to know we were there. What an incredibly difficult phone call to receive. We knew it would be coming...but how can you be prepared for that?
We hit the road immediately and began our round-the-clock vigil with my dad. In the very beginning there were times that he responded to us. For brief seconds his eyes would open and wander around the room looking for something to lock onto. He would squeeze our hands and nod his head when we asked him if he heard what we said or if he knew we were there with him.
Through the night Wednesday and into Thursday morning, we stayed by his side...waiting for that moment when he would slip through our hands and into the presence of our Savior. But he just continued holding on...continued fighting.
As time progressed, more signs showed that his condition was worsening. I won't go into those details but each was difficult for us to watch happen. Slowly those sweet times of momentary awareness became less frequent, until they finally ceased completely and the nurses told us that he'd slipped into a coma.
One of the last times that dad recognized our presence was when my sister came back up to be with him. Vicki and I were standing there with him as the nurses were working on him. We had his hands and we were talking to him, reassuring him that everything was ok. My sister came in and we immediately called her over to him, knowing that our moments with him were almost gone. She grabbed his hand and told him she was there with him. She asked if he heard her and with one nod of his head gave us all one of the greatest thrills we've experienced in quite awhile. For him to acknowledge our presence with him was so important to us...especially to my sister. That one nod brought a certain healing and restoration to us. It was beautiful.
My sister, Vicki, and I stayed with him again through the night Thursday and into Friday. He continued holding on. His situation has worsened even more but evidently he and the Lord are just not done here. The Lord has accomplished many incredibly things through this ending chapter in my dad's life. I'll write about those soon because I know they will bless your heart.
Last night at about 10:30pm the nurses told us that somehow he had stabilized...albeit in a very bad place. They seemed sure that he would not "go" (as they say) that night and seeing as though I'd slept about 4 hours in the last 60, we decided to come back home. We also wanted my dad to have an opportunity to pass away without anyone there, something we know happens after so many conversations with the hospice nurses who have been taking such incredible care of my dad.
So, here were are...Saturday morning and dad is still hanging on. We are continuously praying that our Father will bring an end to my dad's fight. He is no longer in any pain which is a blessing. But his journey is not yet complete. We have encouraged him to let go, telling him that Jesus and so many others are anxiously awaiting his arrival. As is so often needed (again, according to many conversations with hospice), we've given him our permission to go. But again, there is evidently more to be accomplished.
Soon I also want to tell you some stories about our hospice nurses. They are some of the most wonderful people I have ever met in my life. Remind me if you don't see those soon.
Pray for us. Pray for my dad that he will be restored and that he will soon wake up in the presence of the Most High. It is something that will be very painful but we are so thrilled to think about what he will experience those first few moments in eternity!
We hit the road immediately and began our round-the-clock vigil with my dad. In the very beginning there were times that he responded to us. For brief seconds his eyes would open and wander around the room looking for something to lock onto. He would squeeze our hands and nod his head when we asked him if he heard what we said or if he knew we were there with him.
Through the night Wednesday and into Thursday morning, we stayed by his side...waiting for that moment when he would slip through our hands and into the presence of our Savior. But he just continued holding on...continued fighting.
As time progressed, more signs showed that his condition was worsening. I won't go into those details but each was difficult for us to watch happen. Slowly those sweet times of momentary awareness became less frequent, until they finally ceased completely and the nurses told us that he'd slipped into a coma.
One of the last times that dad recognized our presence was when my sister came back up to be with him. Vicki and I were standing there with him as the nurses were working on him. We had his hands and we were talking to him, reassuring him that everything was ok. My sister came in and we immediately called her over to him, knowing that our moments with him were almost gone. She grabbed his hand and told him she was there with him. She asked if he heard her and with one nod of his head gave us all one of the greatest thrills we've experienced in quite awhile. For him to acknowledge our presence with him was so important to us...especially to my sister. That one nod brought a certain healing and restoration to us. It was beautiful.
My sister, Vicki, and I stayed with him again through the night Thursday and into Friday. He continued holding on. His situation has worsened even more but evidently he and the Lord are just not done here. The Lord has accomplished many incredibly things through this ending chapter in my dad's life. I'll write about those soon because I know they will bless your heart.
Last night at about 10:30pm the nurses told us that somehow he had stabilized...albeit in a very bad place. They seemed sure that he would not "go" (as they say) that night and seeing as though I'd slept about 4 hours in the last 60, we decided to come back home. We also wanted my dad to have an opportunity to pass away without anyone there, something we know happens after so many conversations with the hospice nurses who have been taking such incredible care of my dad.
So, here were are...Saturday morning and dad is still hanging on. We are continuously praying that our Father will bring an end to my dad's fight. He is no longer in any pain which is a blessing. But his journey is not yet complete. We have encouraged him to let go, telling him that Jesus and so many others are anxiously awaiting his arrival. As is so often needed (again, according to many conversations with hospice), we've given him our permission to go. But again, there is evidently more to be accomplished.
Soon I also want to tell you some stories about our hospice nurses. They are some of the most wonderful people I have ever met in my life. Remind me if you don't see those soon.
Pray for us. Pray for my dad that he will be restored and that he will soon wake up in the presence of the Most High. It is something that will be very painful but we are so thrilled to think about what he will experience those first few moments in eternity!
posted by Michael Shattuck at
9:40 AM
2 Comments:
This post has such a different tone from the last. I expect that is a reflection of God's peace!
I just got tears reading how you gave him permission to "go." I can only imagine how difficult it would be to see those words even though you know he will be in a better place!
We will be praying for you all and your dad in these final days!
We love you guys!!
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