This is my father-in-law's 69th birthday. One year ago, he and I celebrated together his last birthday on Earth. Of course, we didn't know that at the time, but I feel blessed that we had the time we had. I am thinking especially today of Todd and Lisa, Ardy's wife Carol, and Ardy's siblings, all of whom are surely missing him dearly.
Ardy's last birthday itself was a special and memorable day. It was pretty unusual for my FIL and me to spend time alone together at all. It's not that we didn't like each other. On the contrary, I think we always had a mutual affection and appreciation, particularly for the role the other played in Todd's life. Certainly, our family-- Ardy's only son-- would have made arrangements to celebrate sometime during his birthday week.
But this week last year brought some unusual circumstances: Ardy's wife was on a long overdue dream vacation with her two daughters; Ardy's two children both had work commitments; and Ardy's twin brother was, well, celebrating his own birthday with his wife and family. So, I called Ardy and said, "I'm picking up Madeline from preschool and we're coming over and we're bringing a takeout birthday lunch! What would you like?" My FIL put in a cheeseburger order, and we showed up midday.
Ardy had some health scares in the months preceding his birthday. Concerns about those definitely played in to the importance of him not being alone in his birthday, and throughout his wife's vacation. But when we arrived on that birthday noon, he was in high spirits. "I'm in a great mood!" he proclaimed with a hug. I asked if there was any particular reason; he chuckled in his signature way and said, "Yes! I feel great because I woke up this morning thinking I was turning 69, and then (my sister-in-law) called to wish me a happy birthday and she told me I'm only 68! So, I gained a whole year in one phone call!"
We had lunch, and walked the dog, and did some small chores around the house as well as out in the yard. An hour or two later, we were in the living room discussing dream vacations when Ardy stopped talking mid-sentence and leaned to one side, nearly falling over. I ran to him and steadied him, seeing fear in his eyes. Ardy first had trouble speaking, but muttered, "I feel odd." He signaled he wanted to get up and check his blood pressure. We managed that, and it was high. I administered medication and noted the time and numbers.
The two of us continued that pattern for the next hour so, with more troubling symptoms appearing. I called his primary physician and his home health nurse. Both were in agreement: Call 911 and get him to the hospital. Ardy was reluctant to go, and I was trying to be a respectful daughter-in-law while also looking out for his best interests. I called my parents to drive out and pick up Madeline, who had unknowingly been watching a movie in another room.
When my parents arrived and Ardy could not manage to recall or speak their names or mine, he agreed to go to the hospital and get checked out. He seemed fairly lucid and stable, so I agreed to save him an ambulance ride if he would tolerate my driving. (Yep, nursing and taxiing are definitely not in my skill set, but they were that day. They had to be.)
In the hospital emergency room, Ardy became grumpier and more combative. He also didn't get the best attention, in my opinion, and, when I had to demand he be allowed to use the bathroom, I thought, Oh, boy, we are in this now. I called Ardy's kids and his twin brother and they met us at the hospital. They supported me in the decision to bring him in, and shared my frustration with the lack of answers. We decided to wait until we had more information to contact Ardy's wife, who was on another continent.
Assessment and admission took hours and eventually it was just he and me again. We still had not seen the hospitalist who was supposed to be the admitting doctor handling Ardy's case. I was unsure from the emergency staff on the grounds for admission, what they suspected was wrong. Ardy had suffered a series of seizures/strokes/traumatic brain events, but no one seemed to be in agreement as to an exact diagnosis... And, this night, Ardy was agitated, tired, off his medication schedule, and really angry with me.
I stayed.
I figured, his wife would stay. His children would stay. I was the one there, so I stayed.
The doctor finally appeared just after 5 a.m. Ardy wasn't making much sense, but, at that point, I probably wasn't, either. The doctor definitely didn't make sense to us... And, really, no firm answers would come out of this hospital stay-- or any other.
That time, Ardy spent five days in the hospital. He remained angry with me and resentful of me. We visited. Briefly. At one point, I told him, "I am trying really hard to keep a commandment right now, so I think the best thing I can do is just leave the room." For the record, I was referring to Honor thy mother and father, not Thou shalt not kill. I wasn't mad. He wasn't himself. It was a struggle for everyone.
Ardy went home at week's end, in the care of his sister and brother-in-law. His wife was in regular contact by telephone and soon returned from her vacation. In the weeks that followed, Ardy would experience more ups-and-downs with his health. They looked at homes to move him closer to town and his doctors. They visited our home on July 4 to celebrate Independence Day with the whole family.
The following day, Ardy suffered a massive stroke and fell, striking his head. He spent the holiday weekend in the neuro-ICU, but never regained consciousness. Ardy died July 7, less than two months after celebrating his 68th birthday.
Happy birthday, dear man. You are loved and missed by many.
This is the last photo I took of my father-in-law (back right), three weeks after his birthday and a month before his death. We were all together celebrating his daughter Lisa's birthday.
