Time line and events surrounding Dad’s death on Friday May 11^th, 2007.

The first I knew of anything going on was a few weeks prior.  My Mom had mentioned that he had taken a step back.   He was getting frailer and feebler.  She had told us that she would not be able to come and visit for Tate’s birthday.   Dad was unable to travel, and she hadn’t really thought about that until a couple of weeks before, because she never expected him to live this long.

She talked about bringing us all out to Utah for the long weekend of May 26- 28, but we never really said yes because we were worried about Jessica traveling with the baby etc.  My Mom didn’t want just Tate and I to come, it was kind of an all or nothing kind of thing.   She said not to worry about it, she wasn’t saying that I needed to come and say goodbye or anything.

Then on Friday May 4^th, Grandpa Mead died in England.  My Mom called me that night and said she was leaving in the morning.  She would be there a week or so.  At the time she said there would be no funeral just a cremation.

Then on Wednesday May 9^th at about lunchtime or a little later, Roz called me.   She told me that Dad had taken a step back and she wanted me to know.   Grandma was watching him that and he had gone to the bathroom but couldn’t get himself back up off the toilet.  He had fallen to one side or something.  She didn’t know how long he had been stuck there.   He thought that if she could get him up off the toilet and onto the floor that he could push himself up from there with the tub to help.   She was able to get him down there, but he couldn’t get back up.

Good old Loren Schreider from across the street came over and lifted him up and helped him into bed.  The hospice people came and did their stuff and got him catheterized and ordered up a hospital bed which was set up in the living room.  Amy was there taking care of everything, as usual.

Roz called me again that night while Jessica and I were out to eat for our Anniversary (thanks Becca) and let me know this.   She also let me know that she and Mark were going to get on a plane the next morning and be there.   She said that he wanted his sons to give him a priesthood blessing.  I called her back after talking with Jessica and just told Roz that I wanted to come, but had no way of buying a ticket.   Apparently she called Amy, Amy called Mom in the UK and got her credit card number, and then Amy called me.   I booked a ticket leaving Thursday afternoon and returning on Sunday, about the same as Roz.  As I booked it, the website required the security code from the card, so Amy called my Mom back in the UK and got it (middle of the night then).

Roz and Mark arrived on Thursday morning (May 10^th) at around 11am.   He was normal:  talking, eating, drinking, complaining that his water wasn’t cold enough, etc.   My Mom had been calling and checking in as often as possible.

I arrived at the house at about 11pm.   We woke Dad up to let him know I was there, he hugged me and stuff but was slurring his words.   He did know I was there.

Amy, Roz and I sat around him talking for a few hours (he was sleeping) .  Amy had been there all day but didn’t want to leave and especially didn’t want Roz to tell her to leave.   I finally realized this at about 1:30 or so, and told her that she should go get some rest and that I would sleep on the couch in the Living Room in case he needed anything.   She had been waking him up and trying to get him to eat and drink often.  He said “Yes” every time, but would fall back asleep before you could get him anything.

I slept on the couch in the Living room.   Roz was up in the night some with Alex (her baby) and said that I wasn’t much of a watchdog as I was snoring louder than he.  She was kind of kidding; I did tell her that I woke up several times when he made noises.

Amy and Roz kept trying to feed and water him that night and the next morning.   He ate several bites of cereal for breakfast.   He was sleeping more and more and was harder to wake.   The Hospice aide, nurse and social worker came about mid-day.   My Dad was beginning this apnea thing with his breathing.   They recognized this as the end.  The Nurse sat down with Roz and I (everyone else wasn’t around right then) and read through some documents talking about death and what to expect.   He knew that Mom was due in on Saturday night, and we asked how long he thought.   He said that he usually thinks in Months to Weeks, Weeks to Days or Days to Hours.   Dad was in the Days to Hours category.    It was time to keep him comfortable and not be stingy with the morphine.  There was no longer any point in forcing him to take his multiple pills. 

The funeral for Grandpa was on Friday May 11^th, in the UK.  (They are 7 hours ahead of Utah)  Uncle David was there for the funeral.   After Mom headed back into London and stayed at a hotel near the Gatwick airport.   She called and spoke with my Dad in the middle of the day on Friday (I wasn’t there, I was picking up Grandma).  She told him to wait for her before he went, and he told her he loved her.    Those were his last coherent words (maybe last at all). 

The afternoon Hospice aide didn’t really have much to do but noticed that his fingers were getting blue.  We had made some phone calls and people came.   Aunt Pat, Uncle Paul and Aunt Joyce, Darrell and Jean Newbold, Mac Newbold (in the Bishopric), Aunt Alice came after work and stayed most of the afternoon and evening.  Kirsten and her husband and kids came and took over the house for a while, which prompted Mark to leave.  Too many people around he said.  Darren the volunteer (I think that was his name) stopped by.   He normally visited Dad on Fridays anyway.   He was very upset when we told him this was it.   He is just a nice guy who volunteered his time to visit with sick people.   He had been visiting Dad for a while.   Dad was his first client/ visitee and he enjoyed Dad so much, that he took on others as well. 

It was interesting and good to see that even the workers who’s job it is to be there and help Dad, they were emotional as the end came as well.   It was a cool thing for me to see, obviously he had been nice to them; they probably get abused at times by older dying people.

 As it got later in the day he got worse.  Mark and I were trying to figure out when to give him the blessing that he had requested a few days before.  Mom wanted us to wait.   Mark wanted to wait for her as did I.    His breathing got shallower, we were giving him morphine hourly (under his tongue as he wasn’t waking up or swallowing anymore).   We were told that the morphine relaxes the throat and makes breathing easier.  

Everyone was there:  Brandon and Amy, Roz, Mark and Kelly, Grandma, Aunt Alice and I and a few others.   At about 5pm, Aunt Alice announced that she would need to be driven home and her car taken home if she stayed much later (she can’t drive at night).  Brandon told her we would take care of it.

As I said earlier, Mark had left in the afternoon because there were so many people around.  At about 5pm I said that I think I now knew what a percolator sounded like.  That was the thing we read to listen for as a symptom of the “death rattle”.   It was bad to hear, both because it’s a yucky sound but also because you know this is really it.   And it got worse.

At about 6:30pm I called Mark and said where are you?   He said should I come now, I said Yes.  He said he was on the way.  He asked if he should bring Kelly or not and before I could answer he said he would get her and be right there.

They got there before 7pm.  It was obvious that he was going downhill and quick.  We all talked in the kitchen for a few minutes.  We debated the use of oil in a blessing like this.   I thought no, Aunt Alice thought no (She reminded us that the consecration prayer consecrates the oil for the healing of the sick).  Mark called Uncle someone on Kelly’s side.   He said either.  We decided No.   Mark asked if I wanted to give the blessing.  I couldn’t say anything I just pointed at him and shook my head.  I couldn’t do it.

All the time as we had been discussing the prayer, the subject of a “release” came up.  I knew that I couldn’t say it.   I’m not sure why.   I’m not sure if I couldn’t say it when Mom wasn’t there, or if I just didn’t want to say it:  like didn’t want to be “responsible”.   Not that anyone blames Mark. 

I was starting to get angry and frustrated.   His breathing sounded so bad, it seemed like he was being tortured.  Even though I knew he wasn’t in pain.  I said once that all he needed was some oxygen…  But he did have a living will/ DNR in place.

At a little after 7pm we gave him the blessing.   Mark did a REALLY good job and said some very nice things.  WAY better than I could have done.   About all I could do was drip snot onto my Dad as we all cried, especially during the blessing.

After the prayer it was obvious that it was time to say goodbye, I don’t know if that was because of the “release” part of the blessing, or what.   I saw Amy wanting to talk to Dad, I asked her if she would like us to leave and she said yes.   She had been crying on and off all day.  We all went into the kitchen and then proceeded to take turns saying out goodbyes. 

I told him that he was my hero.   That all I wanted to be in life was to be like him.   He was a good Dad, etc.  I told him Thanks.  I told him Goodbye and that I love him.  Wow, it sucked !

Then we all just sat around him and watched him.   I was stewing and getting more frustrated all the time.   I wanted to do something, but there wasn’t anything to do but help Roz (not that she needed any help) stay on top of the morphine.   I felt like he was being tortured with his shallow breathing and the apnea pauses were getting longer.   Really it was us being tortured.  

At some point in the afternoon (I forget when- probably earlier) Mark asked Dad if he could have some of his morphine and he woke up enough to strongly say NO.   Mark popped popcorn and we sat around and talked.  We thought he would have liked it that way.   This was earlier in the day, I’m out of sequence right now.

At bout 8:30pm Aunt Alice decided that she needed to go home.  We put her off for a little while, and then at 9pm or so, she said it was time.   We all were saying, Um I’m not leaving right now.   I remember Brandon saying no way.  I suggested the Newbold’s as they has begged for something to do to help as they left.   Aunt Alice said no that she would call James.

That last half an hour of so was tough, we were just all sitting there listening and watching his breathing.  And breathing with him.    There was no lung expansion whatsoever, it was all diphragm.  Someone at some point in the last 2 or so hours commented that he looked different.  Later we all said that his spirit had probably left at that point, and it was just nerves and reflexes keeping his body going, all autonomic. 

We were all breathing with him.  And with each pause (getting longer and longer) I found myself actually sad when he gasped again.   The later it got, the more we all moaned a little when he gasped again.  It was so tortured, his breathing that is.   At about 9:30pm it finally stopped.  The 4 of us realized this was it and gathered around and hugged him and told him goodbye.  He stopped breathing.  His heart still tried to pump for a while.   His good, strong, kind, sweet heart kept trying to do it’s job.   We felt his pulse and realized he was gone.   I remember Mark saying “Good fight Dad, good fight”.   The 4 of us stood around crying for a few minutes.

We were just all sitting there crying when James and Diane arrived to chauffer Aunt Alice home.   We are all sitting on the couches and chairs around the bed crying etc.   Diane walks in, sees his body lying there, walks over, touches his head and says (I crap you not) “I’m sorry that you aren’t feeling well”.  He had been dead for 5 or 10 minutes.  Amy snorted and laughed (purely as a reaction) which set Kelly off.   I was laughing but telling them to stop.   Grandma and Aunt Alice don’t hear so well, and didn’t really get it.   Aunt Alice told Mark that his wife was delirious.   Brandon kept telling Amy to quiet down.   

It was a relief really though.   Amy and I both apologized to Diane later.   How could she have known?   I was surprised a little that she was able to show her face at the funeral though.  I mean come on:  “I’m sorry that you aren’t feeling well” ????   To the dead guy?

A little while later we all (minus Roz) retreated into the kitchen and were laughing about the Diane thing and trying to figure out what to do now.   We called Hospice and they came over to do their thing (clean him up, dress him etc.) but he didn’t really need any cleaning.  We tried to figure out which funeral home to call most of us thought it was the Soffe one (Blake Soffe formerly in the ward) but Amy was sure it was Larkin and that little bit of doubt…   Roz got mad at us and said that she didn't feel like having a party in the kitchen since her Dad just died.

Mark ended up calling Soffe and they figured it out and said they would be there in an hour or so.   While the Hospice people were there (social worker and nurse) we all talked some.   They arranged for the bed to be taken that night.  I kept asking questions, I was worried about Mom. 

When the funeral home arrived and we showed them the layout, it ended up being a narrow entryway into the Living room.  So Mark, Brandon and I (and the Soffe guy) actually carried his sheet wrapped body from the bed to the hallway onto the gurney.  Actually Brandon didn’t end up being needed.

All of this time we are trying to figure out how to reach my Mom.   We called Vicki’s flat, but Mom had already left for London.   We called Uncle David who was in the UK, and he had a vague idea of which hotel near Gatwick, but we couldn’t find a phone number that would work.  Kelly had the idea of having a friend note in her airline record that once she checked in at Gatwick that she should be instructed to call home.   So we waited. 

Unfortunately we thought the UK was 8 hours ahead, when in fact it was 7 hours ahead.   So as the phone kept NOT ringing and not ringing we thought she was late for her flight.  Kelly kept calling her Delta friends and asking if she had checked in or not….   Finally she checked in.   Then she called about 15 minutes later.  Then we realized it was a 7 hour difference.

She called once she got through security.  Mark took the call.   She asked if he was gone.  Mark said yes.  She asked Mark if he had drawn the short straw.   He answered that he wanted to tell her.  She cried.  She asked him what sort of a wife wasn’t there when her husband died.   She said that she shouldn’t have been off playing in Europe when he died.   Mark tried to console her and let her know that she hadn’t been playing. 

We started all staying in the kitchen away from the body.  Kelly actually said that it was starting to creep her out.  We looked and he just didn’t look right.  She said that she loved our Dad and he would never bother her, but that wasn’t him anymore.  We all talked about how the last hour or two he didn’t look the same.   We decided that probably his spirit was gone at that point.  And Kelly (and the rest of us) were creeped out a bit by the body, because it was just a body, not the person we knew and love.

Once the body was gone, we decided we couldn’t stand the hospital bed in the middle of the living room, so by the time the bed removal guy with Hospice arrived it was already taken apart and in the driveway with all the other stuff from them. 

Then Mark and Amy and spouses headed home.   It was now maybe 2:30am or so.  Most of us had been up for 20 hours or so.  We crash.

The next day, Saturday, Roz, Alex (her 6 month old boy- he is a very pleasant little red-headed baby!) and I are there at the house.  We have a car so we are not stuck.   We decided to do some cleaning:  get the medical stuff out of the house.   I mopped the kitchen floor.   We answered the phone and door.   People were calling and stopping by.   That was hard.  I was mad at Amy and Mark for not being around and making us deal with it, but it’s OK.  

The bishop made an appearance.  Right after he left Mike Plain and boys stopped by.   He said that he had heard from Loren.  Then he says, is he taking visitors?  Roz and I are shocked and kind of blurt out, he’s gone.  He died last night.   He got very emotional.  Then we thought Hey, I wonder if the Bishop actually knew he had died, or if he just thought he was going downhill.  Mike Plain runs out into the street calling after him and yells you know he is dead, right?   Nice.   Their bishop is a younger Hispanic guy with a thick accent.  He was kind of hard to understand, but he did know.

There were others, I forget who.   Many brought food or desserts, etc.   I guess they didn’t know what else to do to help.  It was nice.

Kelly arranged for Mark and I to be able to get past security and pick Mom up at the gate.  She got in about 7pm.  We get out there, and then while we are waiting for her to get off the plane, we realize that neither of us had any Kleenex so I ran into the men’s room and grabbed some paper towels and when I get back she is hugging Mark.  Then hugs me and we talk and walk. 

She had a rough flight.  After speaking with Mark and hearing the news, she just sat down at the Gatwick airport near her gate and cried.   A nice older Scottish lady came up to her and asked her if she was OK, she couldn’t answer.  The lady asked her if she was alone, she was able to nod yes.  She sat there with her for 45 minutes while she cried.   So nice.

We get her home and everyone is there.  She starts to organize and plan.  When should the funeral be?   She seems to think Friday, I ask her why wait?  More just a question than anything.  She asks when Jessica could come.  We figure it all out and plan for Wednesday, with a Tuesday night viewing at the funeral home.   I had spoken to Jessica several times about all of this.   The only way she and the kiddies can get out there is if I come back and fly with them.   She doesn’t think she can or should try to travel with them both alone.  So I keep my original return flight on Sunday morning and go home.  I’m home Sunday night we book the 4 of us back to SLC on Tuesday morning.   I go to work on Monday.

When my boss comes in, he says why are you here?   I say well I got in last night and don’t fly back until tomorrow.   He says I understand that, but why are you HERE.  I say, oh well it’s no big deal – and it will be nice to have a day of normal before going back and doing all of THAT.   He seems to understand that.   I do end up leaving a little early to get ready to fl the next morning.

I will write more later about the viewing and funeral and the few days after that.