Do the Walk of Life
As I sit here listening to Dire Straits looking out at my patio, wearing my favorite Hawaii sweatshirt, I am distracted by the chair that my father occupied in June. He had flown to New York for my son’s high school graduation, and during his time here enjoyed sitting on my brick patio shaded by all of the trees in my wooded back yard. "It's so peaceful back here." He would comment, as we talked for hours about life, family, work and children. He would, as he always did, impart his 91 year old wisdom and serve as my ever present nonjudgemental sounding board. That chair now sits empty, still covered in residual leaves from this fall, a constant reminder that my father is no longer here.
To be honest, there was another time I wore this very sweatshirt. It was October 2, 2023. This is a day I don’t think I’ll ever forget. Here I was five months later, seated at my father‘s bedside, holding his hand as he fought hard against the Covid that would ultimately take his life two days later. It was a difficult day, as the high flow oxygen he was on was not holding his levels high enough and he had already made it clear he did not want any other heroic measures. So, there we sat, father and daughter and began the difficult navigation of the final days of his life. He was busy telling old stories about his life that came before me. My father was married later in life so he fully embraced his late twenties and told tales of racing midget cars on a dirt track and driving a fancy Ford Thunderbird that he traded for a more sensible car when my brothers and I came along. At one point, he even broke into a filthy limerick he learned in the army years ago. Probably not his finest moment as a Catholic Deacon but somehow I think God understood as we were able to enjoy some much needed laughter during such a difficult time. Most importantly, he was clear. His instruction to me was to put good out into the world just as he did, a tall order, but I promised to honor his memory and do just that.
However, it wasn't all sunshine and roses that day. His low oxygen levels would catch up to him at times and he would become confused. Every hour or so on that day Dad would give a little tug on my hand and smile big and say,“let’s go for a walk.“ The first couple of times I did what all good nurse practitioners do. I reoriented him and reminded him that the fall he had taken when he first got sick with Covid a month prior had fractured his spine and made it so he couldn’t walk due to the pain and weakness. Yet another painful reminder of something else Covid took from him, as my dad was an avid gym goer before he got sick. It got harder and harder to answer his request to go for a walk, as he couldn’t seem to retain that he could no longer stand. Ultimately, I decided he wasn't my patient and it was OK to take off my professional hat and try something else as this was just too painful. I decided to just ask where he was going. “We are gonna go and leave all this behind. Come on honey, are you ready?” It would appear Dad had enough with being sick. At one point he even smiled and asked,”that was a great party wasn’t it?” I asked what party, thinking he was remembering one of the many gatherings we had in his lifetime. “Life. That’s the party honey, but all good things come to an end, and it’s time to go. Let’s go!” He truly was excited to move on but I had to remind him I was not going where he was. Not yet anyway. I reminded him I needed to stay here with his grandchildren. “OK. I think I’ll stay a while.” It became clear, confused or not, he was not ready to leave me that day.
He got the action, he got the motionOh, yeah, the boy can playDedication, devotionHe turnin' all the nighttime into the day
Dad did just that. He turned nighttime into day and rallied. He fought hard and the day that followed his oxygen levels normalized to a degree and we began to hope he might survive. He even teased me,"I had you worried yesterday didn't I?" We joked about his final walk he wanted to take, and I even made him share the limerick again just for a laugh. Unfortunately, this did not last and the following night did not go so hot and he passed the following day. The beastly virus taking my sounding board and imparter of wisdom just like that. In the months that followed, his widow would be diagnosed and begin treatment for breast cancer. Work had its own challenges, and life has been pretty rough on other fronts as well. I found myself feeling a wee bit guilty for not putting good out into the world as requested, but I just couldn't find a way amongst the struggles of grief and life.
Then it happened. I was doing what most people do when life gets too heavy, I took a mindless scroll through social media and there it was. An ad for the 3 Day Susan Komen Walk for breast cancer. My gut reaction was admittedly negative. I did the third day of the walk in September in Chicago, 20 full foot blister producing, leg tiring miles. Kind of a grueling day to be honest. It was also the very day I found out my dad had COVID. Although a beautiful event, maybe it was just too much for me to consider again. But wait.....this one was in Boston, with the single day walk falling on Dad's birthday in August, that seemed like a sign. Maybe I should do it? But those blisters.....yeah but my dad's widow actually has breast cancer, as have many of the women in my life who are enduring much worse than blisters and tired legs, if they can do that, I can take on another 20 miles. The organizers of the event would tell me they need licensed medical folk to run the medical tents for the three day event. This crazy job of mine has me licensed in that state......
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