Hard Nights..

Wow, its been a while since I've done this. I needed to come post today because I just need to get these thoughts out of my head. The past few nights have been a little rough. Thoughts of my dad have been plaguing me, and I haven't been sleeping well again. It keeps coming back. All of it. The last few days of his life. The suffering. The pain. The decision that I still am not sure were the right ones. I keep seeing his face two days before he passed. I kept thinking to myself, "he will get out of here soon." All he kept saying was that he wanted to go home, and we couldn't give him that. The night before he passed. He kept saying he was having trouble breathing. They upped his oxygen as much as it would go. He slept on and off. Getting the call the morning before he passed, saying we needed to get to the hospital, we needed to decide if we wanted him intubated. Getting to the hospital and seeing that ghastly oxygen mask on him, taking up his whole head, and him just gasping, and seeing his glazed eyes, in disbelief. "I cant breathe, I cant breathe" Its all to much. I keep remembering the doctor telling us that if the got on the breathing machine, that he would not get off. But, how could we just let him suffocate. Literally. Just let him sit there not being able to breathe, and letting it happen. We asked him if he wanted to be on it, and he shook his head yes. But I also keep remembering that he always said he didn't want to be on life support. We were denying another wish. But we couldn't just let him suffocate, right? I remember coming into the room after he was intubated, and he kept trying to say something, but with the tube in this mouth no one knew what it was. He was fighting the machine. I remember whispering in his ear that he had to relax, and let the machine help him. "Daddy, stop fighting it and relax, let it help your lungs get strong enough so they can take it off" Knowing in my heart that it would not happen. I remember going to the chapel and just praying and praying that he would be OK, and then I just prayed that the lord would do whatever it was that would make my dad not suffer anymore. How can I be so selfish as to want him to live if it would be all about him suffering, but my dad would still be here. So many thoughts. So many things that I wonder if it should have been done differently. And the last memory is always the same, as the machines starting getting slower, his heartbeat, his oxygen level, whispering in his ear that I loved him. Holding his hand as his last hear beats showed on the screen. ::sigh::