In October, my dad was hospitalized in his home of Boise, Idaho, for an acute kidney episode. Initially, the doctors expected him to recover, but instead his condition got worse. He suffered from low electrolytes and an acute delirium episode. He couldn’t speak more than a few words, stand or walk, or understand much. Doctors told my sister, Tracy, who also lives in Boise, that given his condition, certain kinds of medical intervention would no longer be appropriate. He entered hospice care back at his retirement home, where he’d been in memory care.
My husband, Lyle, and I traveled to Boise shortly after Dad left the hospital and visited him with Tracy and her husband, Jeremy. I had prepared myself, as I had on all recent visits, to accept it if he didn’t remember me. But sitting in a wheelchair in his room, he did remember me and smiled, surprised to see us. He also remembered Lyle and even asked him, “How are things at the bank?” Tracy was standing behind Dad, and her mouth dropped open. It was a special moment.
The visit was better than I had expected but also difficult. My dad tried to stand up to greet us but couldn’t and was frail for a normally solid, muscular, well-fed guy. He had lost at least 40 pounds. Tracy said to me, “It’s strange. I can’t remember him ever not having a stomach.”…