Death of a Father Figure

On Wednesday, February 24th, I lost my step-dad, Ed. He was not my father, which is probably good. My "real" father died several years ago, alone, having pushed anyone who could care about him away. Ed married my mom 36 years ago, and, through all the turmoil of raising me as a son, managed to end up with a decent relationship with me.

Ed and I could not have been more different. He was 5'5", I am 6'5". He was normally around 190 lbs, I am about 100 lbs heavier. Ed avoided any conflict, for fear people might not like him. I am hyper-confrontational, and don't give a fat rats fanny what you think of me.

But Ed showed me something my "real" dad never could - how to be loyal to your family, how to support friends, the importance of a good work ethic. Ed was as non-mechanical as could be, but was always willing to help - even if helping meant sorting nuts and bolts looking for the right one.

During my youth, I spent a few years with the cub scouts. Ed came camping with us many times - always, it seemed, when it was raining, cold, snowing, icy, or generally too darn miserable to be outside. I can remember camping at Washington's crossing in Pennsylvania - and the temperature was -12 with the windchill, in a freezing rain and sleet. Ed never complained. (I, on the other hand, never stopped complaining.)

After the players strike on 1994, I never saw another major league game live, but Ed and I went to dozens of minor league games. He absolutely loved the game of baseball.

During the last year of his life, Ed's health began to deteriorate rapidly. First, he was diagnosed with "Cirrhosis of the liver, with alcohol not present". (Not sure what that means, except he had cirrhosis, and was not currently a drinker.) He began to lose weight.

Over the last few months he began suffering from dementia of some sort. Alzheimer's was the doc's opinion, but the disease seemed to be much more aggressive than that.

On December 18th, he took a drive 100 miles away, unintentionally, losing almost 8 hours of time somewhere along the line. That was a wake-up call, in more ways than one - 02:43 AM my phone rang, with my mom telling me the cops had him in Ohio. He had been parked, in the middle of the street, in front of a pizza place, with no recollection of why he was there. The doctors suggested he cease driving.

Around the middle of January he became unsteady on his feet, and began suffering falls periodically. The St. Vincent de Paul society provided him with a walker, which seemed to help.

By mid-February, the falls were becoming much more frequent, he was having a harder time moving around, and he was refusing to eat, sometimes for days. We began contemplating nursing homes.

By the morning of the 24th, he was unable to rise from bed. Mom called the ambulance, and the EMT's arrived. (While the EMT's at first wanted to leave him there, since he was talking and not complaining of any pain, eventually we persuaded them to have him examined at the hospital.)

The ambulance workers loaded him up, and off we went.

The ER was not crowded, he went right in to an examination room, and they began to check vitals. Blood pressure was low, but not low enough to panic. The doc ordered fluids, since he appeared dehydrated, and a bunch of tests, both blood and other. The EKG was the first one, and it looked decidedly not-normal.

The ER doc decided there was enough information to admit him, so that process began. Meanwhile, the cardiac group was notified, and the tech came down to do the echocardiogram.

He also did not seem pleased.

We went up to a room upstairs. Ed was shifted from one bed to another (and moaned, which he had started to do even when he was not hurting). My mom and I went down for lunch while the staff settled him in, only to be called back upstairs by the cardiologist 15 minutes later.

"He looks to have some pretty significant scarring, as well as a clot. His enzyme levels indicate that he is having a heart attack now, and may have been having it for several days." Well, that stunned us both. I mean, I never thought a heart attack would last hours, let alone days, and while he had complained of many ailments over the last few weeks, his chest was never one of them.

At this point, Ed was sent down to the ICU. His blood pressure continued to fall, and was now in the 50's over 30's range. The IV was still dripping, but his electrolytes were way out of whack. Multiple IV bags were hung, and more blood was drawn.

For the next hour or two my mom and myself sat there, giving him ice chips, watching with him, praying with - and for - him. Around 3:35 he entered cardiac arrest. He had been sleeping. His eyes opened, he glanced around the room, then shut them again. He was shocked with the defibrillator several times, but no sinus rhythm returned. His time of death was 3:45 PM, February 24th. He was 75 years, 7 days of age.

He was a Christian, and died in peace, without pain - all we can ever hope for.