Well, Barry's dad was rushed to the hospital by ambulance on Tuesday with what turned out to be a staph infection that his immune system was just too weak to handle. Everyone of his five children were able to see him and speak to him in the hospital over the less than 48-hour period.
I spent part of the day Wednesday in Napa sweeping and mopping and cleaning so that the house would be ready if Dad could come home to die (Hospice would be involved).
Thursday morning I left Rocklin early and arrived at the hospital at 7:10am. I visited with a lovely woman pastor in the waiting room until they finished the shift change, then went to the Intensive Care room that Dad was in. He was able to answer questions and take his medicine, but he wasn't hungry. We began making arrangements for him to go home as soon as possible, and there were people making phone calls and different doctors and a social worker coming by. I sat by his bedside and held his hand while he rested quietly. His youngest daughter, Carol, arrived around 11:15am. I told him that Carol had come and he opened his eyes and looked right at me. Then she leaned over and told him something like, "Hi Dad, it's Carol." He turned his head and looked right at her. Then he leaned back and seemed to begin dreaming of running or some kind of moving...not 30 minutes later he had stopped the movement and simply stopped breathing. The pacemaker continued to keep the machine going at 55 . . . 55 . . . 55 . . . but he was gone. Peacefully gone. Carol and I were each holding one of his hands and two doctors and a nurse stood at the foot of his bed.
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