Four Weeks in June

One year ago today began the last four weeks of my father’s life, though we didn’t know that at the time.

It began with a phone call from my mom at 8:41 a.m. on Thursday, June 3rd. I was outside enjoying a beautiful morning and taking pictures of some flowers, that were blooming in our newly landscaped garden, in front of our house, on Oakley in Beverly/SW Chicago.

I was literally taking this photo with my phone, when it started ringing and I saw that it was Mom.

Other than the calls that I received from my sister Meg on the night that our dad died, Thursday, July 1st, it was the most scared I have ever felt related to Dad’s health/well being and the first time I actually thought that he might be imminently dying.

Mom explained that Dad was having trouble breathing and the head nurse in the assisted living section of the retirement/long term care facility, where they’d moved the previous weekend from their apartment in independent living, had called for an ambulance to take Dad to the ER at Evanston Hospital.

Due to COVID and other circumstances, we determined that I would get ready quickly and start driving up to meet him there. Knowing that it would likely take close to an hour or more for me to arrive, especially that time of day, we got in touch with a close family friend who was able to go directly to the ER, to meet Dad’s ambulance and stay with him, until I could tag in. At the time, because of pandemic protocols, patients could only have one visitor accompany them in a triage room at the ER.

I recall feeling very anxious, wondering about Dad’s condition, as I drove north on I-57, and don’t recall for sure if GPS sent me via I-94 or Lake Shore Drive to get to Evanston Hospital. I was so relieved when I got there and found Dad doing okay. He still wasn’t feeling well and had an oxygen mask on, that was helping him to breath. Dad was also hooked up to IV fluids and machines that were monitoring his heart, amongst other things.

Thus began a long day, with Dad at the hospital, during which many tests were run and various doctors/specialists weighed in on what might be causing his difficulty breathing. Dad was eventually admitted and stayed through the afternoon of Saturday, June 5th, before being released with a diagnosis of heart failure, due to aortic valve stenosis.

There is so much more to this story and it is one that has been too painful for me to spend much time reflecting on since Dad died unexpectedly, on Thursday, July 1st last year. I am finding that as we near the first anniversary of Dad’s death, my heart and mind feels compelled to try to remember and piece together what happened in those last days and weeks of Dad’s life.

One of my favorite songs in the musical Hamilton, is the finale, “Who Lives, Who Dies, Who Tells Your Story.”

I live.

Dad died.

I will continue to tell his story.

As the spirit moves me and the pain softens, I appreciate having this space to write and to share about my experience having Kevin Howard Axe as my father and how I continue learning to live without him here, since he died last year.