Gifts

Dad gave in yesterday. He didn't give up; he's still fighting, but he gave up his dignity to necessity. His scrawny flesh hangs on his skeleton. I don't know how a person lives that long with no nutrients. What he gets is pumped in with saline and there's no meat left anywhere. Just a saggy dress of flesh. "What's your plan? What do you need Dad?"

He answers, "Time."

Watching him made the horror that Kristin went through every day for 6 months as she watched me waiting for time very real. Full of boredom and silence. There were just a handful of days that I wasted time. But a lot of time was spent waiting, for the next thing to heal. The scrapes on Dad's knees are gone. When I asked him about it, he slid up his drapy hospital gown to show me the worn flesh on his arms that hadn't entirely healed yet. I wanted to stand and put my chest against his in a deep hug. I remember that was the one thing I missed desperately. I can't stand, so the hug went undone.

He spent a few days (I'm not sure how many because I'm not privy to the details of his daily life, but I'm guessing less than a week) in a comprehensive assisted living facility. Beautiful, clean, refreshing air; without sterile, antiseptic fumes. We went there to see him. When the nurse asked who I was, and stalled her answer, I had the thought that we were a couple hours too late. He was back at the hospital.

He sat up awake, finally, as we walked into his fifth room in that hospital. Blood is being pumped into him; saline, nutrients and blood. He looks good. I only once told him that he needed to eat or he would die. He knew that of course. Then he offered me one of the green beans on his lunch tray. Aaaaah! That's the reason! His dinner was absolutely disgusting. He just wanted a cheap cheeseburger. No fries. So J.D. took the chance to take a breath and walked to Jack in the Box.

"Dad, who is Popeye's friend that eats cheeseburgers?" To get him to talk, you have to ask him a question that he can't reply with a nod.

"I will gladly pay you on Tuesday." We laughed at Dad's immediate reply. "Wimpy."

When I got home after the last trip to see him, I wrote down all the memories I had of him. It filled five pages. As a comparison, I can write twenty pages of memories that I've had in the last day, so when I discovered that five was the measure of our relationship, I cried the rest of the night.

He stayed awake for a couple hours and let me hold his wrist, which is smaller than mine, and he tolerated  me asking over and over what he needed. He said the Vegas wind was coming from the South at 50 mph. It was. And he knew that because he can see the flag out of the window from his bed. He is 75 years old and knows by the shape of a flung flag how hard the wind is.

There is a white board on the wall with his stats and important numbers. Last trip he thought it was a horribly ugly picture on his living room wall. This trip, he could see the flag outside and comprehended everything that the flag meant. Behind the words Today's Goal on the white board the space was blank. So when I left his room the first night, I wrote, "Live," on it. When I returned in the morning, the nurse had added, "& Smile." He's not a good patient. You can bet he knew exactly what was written and who had written it. He's saving his energy for healing the immediate things like lungs and brain and kidneys. I remember saving energy and sleeping through the boredom. I know he's not just lying there for the change of scenery.

I know what it's like to lay there and wait, for whatever the universe has for you, you just swap out your energy for the time it takes to heal. And I remember laying there fully aware of what was happening around me, but knowing that everyone thinks you are barely there. That's what he is doing. So I made time to make another memory. I asked and he told me what he thought.

I found out that his paternal grandfather was a self-proclaimed lawyer and later when I told J.D. about it, we figured that it must have been between 100 and 80 years ago when he was the Garfield County Attorney for 20 years. Dad was proud of that. He is also proud of himself for being a successful businessman -- without a high school diploma. Me too!

I also learned that his paternal grandmother died before or near Dad's birth. He spent most of his time with his maternal grandmother. He and I both have fond memories of Grandma Orton who died at 98. And my mother shared a secret that I was conceived in Grandma Orton's feather bed.

I told him about when we used to go fishing together. And he may not have remembered, but he smiled when I told him about how we walked along the railroad tracks in Provo Canyon. He put me on a big rock in the middle of Provo River while we fished. I probably told him about all my thoughts while sitting on that rock because he said, "You have to be quiet or you'll scare the fish away." I thanked him for those trips and the Tiger Tails he bought me at the Vivian Park store when we went in after fishing. I know he is still thinking about that.

He remembered watching cartoons with us. But didn't remember that he called us MaGoo, MaGee and Magilla. He smiled again. And he told me about people I asked about and what he meant when he said someone had "Committed Sideways." I didn't understand until he said that this person had drank his way out of love. Interesting phrase, and the way he said it, like he would never do that to himself. Really!

So I sat there for a couple hours and asked him about whatever I could think of. And he answered with more than a nod and I knew it was a great gift he was giving me.

The physical therapist had him stand. And he did! He had refused for weeks and I knew that was a gift too. And then it happened. He lost his dignity and his bowels and all he could muster was a tiny whisper begging the therapist to reassure him that his world was ok. "My kids." He was afraid we saw. And we stepped out while the therapist reassured him that we were not watching. I remember. And with time, you start to not care how your body betrays you because what can you do but live because that's your goal for the day.