We moved into our house last August with my hubby’s parents. The plan was to share a bigger home and take care of them in the process. I.e. Dad wouldn’t have to worry about mowing the grass again or if they got hurt we were right there to help. (Mom fell in their last house and Dad was in their bedroom sleeping and couldn’t hear her, she lay on the floor for a half hour trying to get up)
Mom died suddenly on Friday, October 7th, 2005. On Thursday night she was helping me fold laundry and holding baby JZ (then 7 weeks) and laughing at his noises while watching E.R. and on Friday at 7am my hubby was holding his mom in his arms and I was on the front porch flagging the Emergency vehicles down. It was a whirlwind of craziness for the next while – it still stings.
Today my hubby was in the shower (after lunch) and I was on the computer (where else would I be). I heard Dad call from downstairs, he called again – it sounded not so good. I ran down the stairs and into the living room. He was crying and in pain. He couldn’t get the words out it hurt so bad and he was grabbing at his left side. All I could think about was that he was having another heart attack (first one was September 7th, 2002 – he was in the hospital at the same time I was having baby #3). My heart was beating so fast and I was starting to sweat. All he could say was, “In my second drawer.” I ran into his room and grabbed every single bottle of medication he had and ran it out to the living room. It wasn’t his heart – it was his back, he pulled a muscle down his left side and it hurt so incredibly much. Pain like when my hubby ran over his foot with his car a few months ago… By dinner he had taken 3 morphine pills.
I was so scared. The rest of my day has been spent checking on him but trying not to “over” fuss over him. He doesn’t like to be fussed over. He’s 74 and he’s done it on his own for a very long time. His time isn’t up yet, my hubby needs his dad and my kids need their grandpa. I know that sounds selfish…