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The Judgement Call
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The Judgement Call I had a read a blog just recently just brought some memories back for me. It all started out in the fall of 2003. I had noticed my dad was not doing too good. My mother was telling me that he has been having trouble lifting the groceries out of the grocery cart into the trunk of the car. I thought to myself at the time that is not good. Even worse he would go to cosco and had other women helping him putting things in the car. So on weekends or when I have it off at times he would wait for me to come over go to cosco or to the grocery story together. Then of course pick up any prescriptions at the drug store. Guess who was driving most of the time. It was me. But some of the time he would drive then get tired. Next thing at times he would take his medication at the wrong times that is another thing I noticed too. It rang some bells there. But what I could do there I had no idea. I tried to put up a schedule so he could remember when to take his medication. But he did not pay attention to it. So I gave up on that there. Then he told me he wanted to stop taking care of the pool but he did not want to leave it to anyone else to take care of at the time. He did not want anyone else to help him with it. He was Pool Chairman for the board. Yes it is the same association that I had trouble with here now. So he just continued on with it. The following year one day I came over on he hurt his knee while doing some work at the pool. It looked really bad. I said well make sure you put some antibiotic cream on when you get out of the shower. Then have the doctor look at it the next time you go in for a appointment. Then around in March he got sick with a cold or cough. He talked to me on the phone. This is the worst he ever felt and at that time I think I was going through the same thing myself. I was not thinking properly because of it. But I still tried to help what I could there. Then he started feeling better. But I was still sick myself. Then on the phone my mother told me that he had a long red streak from inside his thigh down to his leg. So I told her he better go to the doctor. Which he finally did of course. I guess he was diagnose with deep vein thrombosis. He was given medication and was told to go home and make sure he elevate his legs up for a little while. Of course when I came over that weekend he was not doing what he was told. So I had to tell him to do it. Of course I usually have to tell my mother the same thing to do too. But he was still busy doing other things so he was not totally elevating all the time.My mother began to tell me he would get dizzy at times. I should have told him to go to the doctor or better yet to the hospital. But at the time was not thinking of it. I think I called the following saturday around 12:00 pm to check on them. First I talked to my mother then my dad. He said he was going to take a nap because he was tired. Then I hung up but it was a hour later my mother calls me said he was feeling a little bit dizzy. That she wanted me to come over and that my dad needed me to come. So I did there. It takes about 30 minutes to get there and when I walked in to the house I was not prepared to see my dad sitting in his lazy boy. One side of his phase was drooping down and was crying. He was looking at me and wanted to know what was happening to him? I said you are having a stroke dad. I had asked my mom why she did not call 911? I was in shock and they were waiting for me to come. I immediately called 911 and the fire department came then transported him to the hospital. I had to decide which hospital to choose at the time. So I decided El dorado Hospital to send him. There he went there and soon followed. But I called into work saying I could not come in because of my dad being sick. Then he wanted my mother so I had to go back and get her. But it was a real trying day for sure. He seemed to do better but then things turned for the worse. I had to decide just let him go or try to save him. So I chose to try to save him instead but I think it was too late for it. He passed away on April 14th,2004. Later I found out his kidneys failed him. It was his diabetes. I had watched him fighting it the night before then had to go home because my mother needed me too. We recieved a phone call about 3:30 AM said we better come into the hospital. We went into his room and all of his equipment was taking off. I asked the nurse what is going on? She said he is gone. So I took my mother to be close to him and she said well. I am sorry didn't make it in time and padded his stomach. So that was a very trying time there. I know I had asked my dad if I made the right decision in sending him to El dorado. He said that I did. I told him you should have listened to me. He admitted as much that he wished he did there. To this day I have my doubts. Of course one day I was in the cemetry visiting my dad. I talked to a woman who's husband died at St. Joseph's. Guess they mistakenly gave him the wrong medication. He died approximately about the same time as my dad. So I guess it does not matter where you go just never know what will happen to you? Just being completative and thoughtful here.  Please come check out my blog [blog roxy37sexy] invite you to check it out. you can also check out my profileroxy37sexy Please come and join my group captivating cams.Captivating Cams  Dare you com in my blog. |
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These kinds of situations--the death of a parent, sibling, or loved one--can often leave us wondering whether we did everything we could have done and whether we did the right thing. AKA The Clit Whisperer. 
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You just do the best you can and hope it is good enough. There is no point in second-guessing yourself after the fact;when a crisis arises you just have to deal with it and sometimes you will be right, and sometimes you will be wrong. But you should never just accept the word of the doctors; they are human, they are arrogant, and they are often wrong. My mother was diagnosed with a stage 4 ovarian cancer in Dec 2003; an emergency surgery was performed to clear an obstructed bowel, and she then landed in intensive care for a long time. The doctors wanted me to let her go; "she is old, she is very sick, she won't recover". I knew my mother and knew she would never give up, so I insisted treatment be continued. She was in the hospital for three months, then went home and lived her life for nearly another 4 years. Last november she landed in the hospital again, again due to an obstructed bowel from the returning cancer. This time she was 4 years older, greatly weakened from chemo, and clearly deteriorating. My brother, who was there, wanted all kinds of heroic efforts to keep her alive (though she was in great pain and slipping into a coma) and this time I said "no, give her the morphine, keep her comfortable, let her go". I then hopped the first plane and got to the hospital an hour before she died. I think I was right, both times. The first time I clearly was; she went home and lived her life for years. This last time...I will never really know, but it sure felt right at the time and still does. No second guessing. You do the best you can at the time, and that is all.
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Hi Roxy, reading your post has brought some memories up front for me too. although they are never too far away anyway. Rememder a few months back, the big story for a few days about walter reed hos.? how bad it was, except for the eleite? Guess what, it was that way in 1981. I was enlisted, and there with my ex-wife and my 14 month old son as the pat. The sad part is its prob been that way all along. He passed away 7 months latter in a military hosp. in germany. All we were told was that he gave up life at 21 months. this is a short version of course. decisions and judgement calls will always be seconded guessed by both the person that made them and by those who didn't have to make them. the best I can tell you is that we do the best that we can with the info we have. we also put a lot of blind faith in those who are supose to be taking care of us. That has become a mistake. If it helps, time always helps heal,but it is a very slow process C.
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