I try not to think about how my dad used to be.  Its like I'm already mourning him.  I just try to take it day by day.  Sometimes I catch him saying something or doing something and I think, there he is...there's my dad.  When in all actuality the moments of him being "my dad" are getting fewer and fewer.  It still amazes me how even though we have been living with this for what seems like an eternity, there are still times when I can't grasp what is going on.  My dad is having hallucinations now.  Which is weird because the doctors say he is not sick enough for them to do anything yet.  How sick is sick enough anyway?  When you go into liver failure you have just moments to live, is that sick enough?  They all say his test results are not getting any worse, but why does he seem worse?  We went to his endocrinologist this week and she asked him how often he was checking his blood sugar.  He told her at least two times a day.  She checked his meter and told him he was not even checking it once a day.  She also said that on the days his blood sugar was in the 500's that he was not even taking his insulin.  My dad just looked at her and didn't say anything, like she was speaking another language.  All this time we have been preparing his medications, talking to his doctors, taking him to his doctors, fixing his food, doing everything for him..we never thought about his insulin.  He has been a diabetic for over twenty years and has always given himself his shots and checked his blood sugar.  The doctor has decided to put in a continuous glucose monitor to keep an eye on his insulin.  She also told us it is time for us to start taking care of his insulin.  Why does that feel like the final straw to me?  Maybe because that is the only thing he does for himself.  Why doesn't he seem more upset about it?  Just two weeks ago, he threw a very big temper tantrum because we will not let him drive anymore.  He says he has been dreaming about his funeral, but I never know if what is coming out of his mouth is him or the toxins building up in his body.  I sometimes sit and cry because I have a hard time picturing a time when my dad wasn't sick.  I am trying to hold on to every last memory of him I can and make every single second another memory, until we run out of time.

On Feb 7, 2012 We lost my Great Grandfather.  He was 4 months away from turning 100 years old.  This is a picture of him and my daughter.  Chloe absolutely adored him and he was pretty smitten with her.  My mother has visited my grandpa every Sunday for the past 16 years.  It has become quite a tradition that we have "ice cream Sundays" with grandpa.  My children haven't known anything else.  I know that the memories of our Sundays will be with my children forever, and I am so grateful for that.   As we were preparing for his funeral, I was flooded with memories.  Not just memories of my grandpa, but little glimpses of my life.  I was suddenly aware of every breathtaking moment in my life.  And as I thought I was already pretty much a very in touch person with my emotions, very attached to all of my memories, and very determined to make every single second a precious memory.  I realized that I am not done making memories with my dad.  I am not done helping my children to make even more memories with their Papa.  While my dad has so many things fighting against him, within him, trying to kill his body; we are not going to just stand by and let him go.  We all have days, especially my dad, when it seems like enough is enough.  Then we get little glimpses of hope.  Last Friday evening we had to rush my dad to the hospital.  For several days he had been "crashing", his blood sugar dropping dangerously low.  This is very unusual for my dad.  He has been a diabetic for over 20 years.  His normal blood sugar levels are in the 300's, and that's after 850 unit of insulin.  Friday night, my parents went to dinner and by the time they arrived my dad was unresponsive.  My mom took him to the hospital where they found his blood sugar was 54, his pulse was 60, and his blood pressure was 95/56.  This was after 4 glucose tablets and 2 spoons full of peanut butter.  They gave him straight sugar water to his vein and was able to eventually bring all his vitals back up.  He was released several hours later.  We followed up with his Endocrinologist this week and she has decided for the first time in as long as I can remember that he is taking to much insulin.  They cut his insulin in half!!  This may not seem like much to anyone else, but to us it means he is losing weight and moving around enough to not need as much medicine.  His liver doctor is also very proud of the progress he has made in losing weight.  While I always worry that I will lose him, it makes it seem a little further away when we get good news.  I am happy that he feels like he has a reason to fight for.  I know that he has many more memories that he wants to make, and that is all I can hope for!

All of my childhood memories begin and end with family.  On Sundays, the whole family went to church with Granny and Grandaddy.  Afterward, we all had Sunday dinner together.  At that time I didn't think it was unnatural for Grandparents, Aunts, Uncles, and cousins to spend so much time together.  I thought that was how all families were.  We would gather around the piano as my dad played and sing good old gospel hymns.  That was my Grandaddy's favorite thing to do, and now looking back it was probably all of our favorite thing.  Spending time as a family has changed.  I don't know if it feels different because I am grown.  I miss that togetherness, that closeness.  Not to say we do not have the closeness, there are seven of us in one house.  But, its different.  I sometimes wonder if my children feel the same way I did being this close to their grandparents.  I know my dad misses Sunday's at my grandparents.  He talks about it often.  I see more and more of my Grandaddy in my dad.  My dad picks on my kids the same way my Grandaddy picked on us.  I remember my Grandaddy cupping his hand and holding it up to our face when we would cry and say "Cry me a handful of tears", which would always make us laugh.  My dad misses his parents more than anything.  He talks about them a lot.  He will sit and listen to old gospel music and cry and say "that was mommas favorite song".  I don't know what its like to loose your parents yet, and I'm sure it is a pain that never eases.  I dread that pain.  I thank God for the childhood memories I have.  I kinda hope that when I get to heaven that my family will be sitting around the table at Sunday dinner, laughing, singing, and loving forever. 

What if's.......
I am inspired by my friend Alys blog about "what if's".  It got me to thinking about the "what if's" in my life.  Of course the main one is, What if my dad hadn't gotten sick.  That one question opens up the door to thousands more. What if the lines between father and child hadn't been wiped away.  This illness has made that line disappear.  I hate looking at that man who has difficulty walking, hearing, sometimes even talking.  I wonder, what if he is the same man inside his head, he just can't get out.  That thought almost scares me more than the fact that he is dying.  It makes me feel guilty for getting angry or frustrated with him.  I have to constantly remind myself that he is sick.  I don't want to have to not believe everything my dad says because he makes things up.  I don't want to have to watch what my dad says because sometimes he says inappropriate things.  But, I was not asked what I want.  I want my dad back!  Sometimes, I get so angry with God.  How could he let this happen?  My dad was a great man, a strong christian man.  He made it a point to raise his children in a good christian home.  I remember we would have nightly bible studies while I was growing up.  That's how he was raised, and that was the promise he made to his parents, my mom, and God.  How could someone who has done God's work be punished like this. I know that he is not being punished for it is God's love that has allowed us to spend this time with him.  What if I didn't have my faith in God to pull me through this?  I know that it is normal for me to get angry sometimes.  But, I don't know where I would be without my God, my family, my friends, and my memories of my dad.

This is my Dad.  His name is Steve.  He is the best man I have EVER known.  He was an amazing dad, husband, brother, son, and friend.  I don't say "was" because he isn't here anymore.  I say "was" because this horrible disease took him away from us.  He is not the person he used to be.  About five years ago my dad was diagnosed with a metobolic liver disease.  I sold my house and moved myself, my husband, and my three children into my parents house.  My dad had to quit his job and go on disability.  That mountain of a man, who had always been my rock, was shrinking in front of my eyes.  We lived there for a couple years.  My dad seemed to be doing well enough for us to move out, so we did.  One year later my dad was in the hospital barely clinging to life.  He had gone to the hospital because he was having severe pain in his leg.  They quickly located a blood clot.  They took him to surgery to put a screen in his stomach to block the clot from going any further.  He had an allergic reaction to a medication they gave him during the surgery and all of his organs began to shut down.  After two or three days of his kidneys not working they told us there was nothing else they can do.  They decided to move him to the hospital where his doctors are located so he could be closely monitored.  I had never seen that look in my dads eyes before.  Every time I walked in the room I would give him a kiss and tell him "I love you daddy".  He would stare at me for a long time and never say anything, like he was trying to figure out who I was.  Everyone that walked in the room had this look of sorrow and would leave in tears.  My mom did what my mom typically does, like she did when she lost her mom.  She keeps her emotions to herself and puts on a smile and comforts everyone else.  On the way to the other hospital my mom and I were preparing to get there and those doctors tell us the same thing, to get ready for the worst.  When we arrived we walked into dad's room and there he was sitting up laughing and joking around with the nurses in his usual way.  A miracle had happened on his way to the hospital and all his organs had started working.  We joked the bumpy ambulance ride must have jarred his kidneys till they started working.  He did however, suffer permanent kidney damage and now has 30% of his kidney usage.   After a while in the hospital he was back home, and I was moving my family back in.  That was a little over 2 years ago.  He has been in the hospital several more times since then.  Once for sepsis.  This time he was hallucinating from the build up of toxins in his system.  At the time, our coping mechanism for that was to laugh and joke about it.  We could all see the fear in each other eyes through our laughter.  Three months ago my dad went through the week long testing process to be put on the liver and kidney transplant list.  We waited a couple weeks to hear the news we had been waiting to hear for years.  I wanted someone to tell me I was gonna get my dad back.  The news was not what we were expecting.  He was denied.  My dad has now given up hope.  I can not blame him, I don't know what I would do with that news.  On the other hand, I don't understand why my daddy wants to leave me, leave my mom.  I am very glad that my children get to spend every minute with my dad because we do not know how many more we have.  In the mean time, I have to cook and clean and take care of my dad.  I have to drive him because he can not do that anymore.  I find myself having to get on to him just like I do with my kids.  When his toxins are higher he doesn't understand why he needs to bath or brush his teeth.  I do this because I love him so much and its not a "have to" its a "want to" because of all he did for me as a kid.  I just never thought I would be having to take care of my dying father before he turned 53.  I try to be strong like my mom and cry when no one is looking, because my heart is breaking.