My daddy

My dad had surgery on O8Feb. I don't remember the name of the proceedure but it was to replace the arteries from the aorta all the way down to the femorals. The surgery was a success, for the first time in something like nine years he had good circulation to his hands and feet.

Twenty five years ago he suffered a major heart attack, permanently damaging the back and underside of his heart. During the surgery he appeared to have a heart attack but the anastesiologist thought he got it under control. There is an enzyme called troponin that measures the extent of damage to the heart after a heart attack. The troponin levels peak at some point and an assessment can be made as to the damage from the attack. My dad's troponin levels started to elevate immediately after the surgery indicating a heart attack. It must have been massive as the troponin levels continued to rise until his death on Wed 13Feb.

The doctor said the damage to the heart was so massive that if he actually lived through it he would need a heart transplant. But there was no possible way he would even get on the list as his entire vascular system was clogged or hardened from 50 years of smoking. So my mom decided to pull him off the life support he was on so he could die in peace. His heart beat for two and a half hours after the life support was removed, then he finally stopped breathing and let go.

My two sisters and my mom were with him right up until the end but I couldn't be there. I just didn't want to see him actually die. I had the opportunity to say goodbye before the surgery and after. I had some alone time with him before the life support was pulled and made sure to tell him that the very best of him is in me and will live on. My dad's only surviving relative other than us was his sister. She chose not to be there as well because she and my mom have never gotten along. Even when I did go into my dad's room after the life support was taken away I made a comment to my dad about his sister - that he would see her in eternity at some point. (My dad's sister raised him, she is eight years older and their parents were absent much of the time, so she was also a mother figure to him, they had an incredibly special and tight bond) My mom and sisters made rude comments then about how she won't be going to the same place as daddy, that she will go somewhere awful. They said this with my dad dying in the bed in the same room. Talk about no tact.

I feel very separate from my family at the moment. Daddy's favorite was me and he was mine. No surviving member of the family has called me to see if I'm ok, nobody has included me in any decisions to be made or preparations that need to happen. Nobody has asked me to help with anything.

My mom has threatened suicide as one way of dealing with all of this. Not to me personally, but to my older sister. I suspect that because both my sisters do not live in the same city as my mom and I that I will be the one expected to keep an eye on her. This is a burden I do not want. My mom has tried to kill herself thirteen times that I know of since 2001. I only ask that if she tries again she does it right. No suicidal gestures for attention or half-assed attempts. Enough. I don't have it in me to go through all that again. She was abusive to me when I was growing up. She didn't ever seem to really like me or love me no matter how much I tried to be lovable. No matter what I did it wasn't ever right or enough. I'm done. I don't do it anymore. And I don't want the responsibility of keeping her alive. Let it rest with my sisters.

Rest in peace daddy, I love you forever.