On March 13th at 1:30 a.m., I lost the most important man in my life, my dad. I'm going to tell the story, because that's why I do here. I tell you stories about my life during and after cancer.
My dad was 84 years old, and in the past few years, his knees had become so painful that he had a really hard time getting around. He had always been a very active man, hunting the mountains of Central California, hiking the wilderness, travelling all across the U.S., playing basketball, and enjoying life. It was more than an annoyance that he was no longer able to do these things. In addition to those ornery knees, he had a triple bypass heart surgery twenty-one years ago. Other than that, he was amazingly sharp and still so full of life.
On Friday March 9, he started not feeling well. He was out of breath and having a very difficult time climbing the stairs to my mom and his bedroom. My mom tried to get him to go to the doctor, but he refused . . . because he was an incredibly stubborn human being. I had gone by my parents' house for something that I can't even remember now on Saturday, and I was worried about him. His chest was hurting. So, I called my kids and told them that we really needed to spend more time with Pop, because I just had a feeling that we didn't have a lot of time left with him. Still, I thought we would have a few years. On Sunday, we all went to Mimi and Papa's (the name my kids have for my mom and dad), played, talked, snacked, and just enjoyed each other's company. While the kids were all outside playing football, my dad and I had a moment alone. He told me that he wasn't feeling well. I told him he needed to go to the doctor, and he agreed. I knew it was bad. He would never agree to go to the doctor if he wasn't really sick.
On Monday the 12th, I went to work. As I was walking through the office, my mom called and said she needed to get my grandma's old wheelchair for my dad, because he couldn't make it down the hallway to the bathroom. I left work immediately. This was worse than I thought. I am blessed to have amazing support at work, and my administrator wrote lesson plans for me so that I could leave. I got to my parent's house, got Dad in the wheelchair, and, along with my mother, took him straight to his doctor. He was joking on the way saying that he kind of liked the fact that I had to roll him around and open doors for him. His doctor was booked, so he saw her assistant. The physician's assistant diagnosed him with acute bronchitis. We were all so relieved. This was fixable. All we needed to do was get some meds in him, and he would get better. So, back home we went. I still had that little nagging voice in the back of my head though. Was he really OK?
I wore my clothes to bed that night just in case my mom needed me back at her house. I was just getting ready to crawl into bed when my mom called. She had called 911 to come get my dad. He had to go to the bathroom and was still too weak to walk. As she was getting him into the wheelchair, he lost consciousness. I arrived while the EMTS were strapping him into the gourney. He was a little disoriented and couldn't remember his address, but other than that, he was coherent. We talked about the fact that mom and I would be right behind him on the way to the hospital. I kissed him on the cheek. He relaxed and got ready for the ride. The EMTs felt like he would be given a breathing treatment and be sent home.
The ambulance drove the speed limit, and we followed until we hit Main Street in Porterville. Then, the lights of the ambulance went on. My mom and I both knew that this was not a good sign.
We arrived just a few minutes behind the ambulance. It took about ten minutes to get him settled in his room which gave us time to do the paperwork for admission.
When we entered his room, the doctor introduced himself and told us that my dad was in cardiac arrest but that we could stay with him while they got him stable. He was going to be transferred to Kaweah Delta in Visalia. My dad is an amazing man. In the midst of a heart attack, he was joking with the hospital staff. The doctor asked him on a scale from 1 to 10 where his pain was. My dad said, "3." The doctor was amazed! He said, "Mr. Lane. You are having a heart attack. Are you sure that it is only a 3?" He answered, "Yep. My back hurts a little, but it's livable." Then the doctor told him that they were going to get him ready to go for a ride. My dad said, "It won't be the first time in my life someone has taken me for a ride." All the nurses laughed. At that point, my mom and I were asked to step outside the room while the X-Ray technician came in. they wanted Kaweah Delta to have all the information they could get when he arrived, so they were going to send him with some chest X-Rays. As they finished up the X-Ray, they moved him onto a gurney to ready him for the next ambulance ride. We watched as my dad went limp. Then, we saw the paddles come out, and we watched him code.
A nurse came and took us to a room. That room was the worst place I have ever been in my life. I knew where we were and what was happening, but I felt like a trapped animal with no way to fight or help or scream or breathe. After a few minutes that seemed like hours, the doctor came in and said, "I'm not going to lie to you. LeRoy has had a massive heart attack. We've revived him, but it won't last. He is not going to survive. Do you understand?" We did. We were blessed to have five minutes with him before he left us. He knew we were there. He told my mom he loved her even though he had a breathing tube down his throat. He held our hands and looked at my mom. My mom was so strong. She still is. He left us with peace and dignity just the way he would have wanted to.
There's a lot more to this story, which I am sure I will share with you, but these are all the words I have now. Grief is an interesting thing, and it comes in so many forms. Whether it's the loss of an eye, the loss of your breasts, or the loss of a loved one, there is grief and immense sadness in this life.
My father was the only man in my life who has loved me no matter what. He was the best man I have ever known: kind, responsible, reliable, dependable, loyal, ethical, moral. I could go on for days, but I won't. Instead, I will share this poem that I wrote to the man who was my rock, my solace, my dad.
Daddy's Girl
They didn't know
They didn't see
The gentleness you gave to me
Do you remember bedtime stories
And holding hands?
I remember, Daddy!
They didn't know
They didn't see
The funny, silly man you could be
Do you remember jumping out of cupboards
And hiding pictures of Mason Reese?
I remember, Daddy!
They didn't know
They didn't see
Your great big heart, the love you gave so freely
Do you remember the souls you inspired
And the example you set for us all?
I remember, Daddy!
They didn't know
They didn't see
Your wisdom, intelligence, and witty repartee
Do you remember our morning debates
And how you talked me through my questions about life?
I remember, Daddy!
They didn't know
They didn't see
What an amazing husband you were to Mimi
Do you remember the laughs and love you shared for 51 years
And how you taught us what it means to be loyal?
We remember, Daddy!
They didn't know
They didn't see
To us you were Papa and not just the man with the cigar between his teeth
Do you remember after school trips to get french fries with Janie
And Ian sitting on your lap eating ice cream out of the carton?
We remember, Papa!
They didn't know
They didn't see
What a family man you turned out to be
Do you remember all the trips with the kids
And the first time you held our little buddy?
We remember, Papa!
There's so much to say
A million words wouldn't be enough
There wasn't enough time
A million lifetimes wouldn't have been long enough
They didn't know
They didn't see
Everything you were to our family
But we were there and we know
We will always remember, Papa
And I will always be my daddy's girl.