Wednesday we were back up to the hospital. The doctors finally told Lesvya what I knew. Dad wasn’t going to make it. At 6:25 pm I had convinced her that the best thing for dad was to pull the vetalator and just let him go. He didn’t want to live this way. She agreed and it was done. We stayed.
Thursday morning he was still breathing. That afternoon they moved him to a special ward in the hospital and we stayed that night again, running home quickly for some clean clothes and a quick shower. We stayed the night again.
Friday morning he breathing ever more shallow started to slow down. At 10 am Friday morning my father died. He was 65. He was a smoker. He had lung cancer. It was stage 4 and even if his body had started working again he would have had maybe another few painful weeks left.
I’m glad I was there. I’m sorry I had to make the choice I did. I’m releived I never smoked.