I had a two-hour conversation on the phone yesterday with Janet.  It's the way it has always been with us.  We can go for five years without seeing one another; but when we reconnect, it's as though we have never missed a day of visiting.

I called to see how she was coping now that all the relatives have returned home.  She told me a couple of stories about Lanny's last days, one that made me laugh and one that brought tears to my eyes.

His last few weeks he was in a palliative care unit at the hospital.  For those who may not know what that is, more and more hospitals now are adding units to care for the terminally ill in their final month of life.  

My brother was in a similar unit at M.D. Anderson just before he passed away.  I think such units are long overdue.  This idea of the family trying to take care of dying family members at home always seemed cruel and callous to me.

About two weeks before he died, all the family had been called home and had been to see him.  One day their son, who was at the hospital with him, called his mother to tell her his dad wanted her at the hospital RIGHT THEN!

Janet said she rushed there to find that Lanny wanted to sign a DNR (Do Not Resuscitate). She said that the nurses and the family had encouraged him earlier to sign one but he had said to Janet. "You have Medical Power of Attorney.  I'm leaving it up to you.  Just don't pull the plug too soon."

"I've decided it's time to sign the DNR," he told her.

"Well, okay, but you realize that signing the DNR doesn't necessarily mean you are going to die," she said.

At any rate, he signed it.  

Janet said that the next morning when he awakened he was as mad as he could be.

"WHY am I still alive?" he asked.  "The whole family has been here and I signed the DNR!  She said he fumed about it all day before he finally settled back down.

The other story was about his daughter with whom he was very close.  She lives in Michigan but came down about a month before he died to be with her mother, brother and her dad.

The only problem was that every time she went to see her dad she would break down, lying her head on his shoulder, crying, talking into his ear, telling him, "Daddy, I just can't stand this, seeing you like this."

Janet finally told her daughter that she wasn't doing him any good breaking down like that every time she was with him.

"I can't help it, Mom. Every time I look at him so sick in that bed, I just start crying."

"Well, if you can't keep from breaking down, maybe it would be best if you stayed away,"  Janet replied.

So, Janet said that is what she did.  But as time grew closer to his death, everyone in the family had been in one particular day to see him except his daughter.

By this time, he could no longer keep his eyes open but he would nod and answer if you spoke to him.  

Janet told her daughter she thought she should try to go see him again also.

"Mom, I just don't think I can keep from breaking down if I do," she said. "Every time I look at him like that, it just breaks my heart."

Then one of the family members had a suggestion.  She said that since Lanny's eyes were closed, he would not see her any way, so she could go in blindfolded and wouldn't have to see how bad her dad looked.

And that's what she did. A family member took her in the room blindfolded; she sat beside her dad's bed and talked to him for two hours.

A couple of hours after she left,  Lanny passed on.

Janet said she is convinced he was hanging on until his daughter came to see him one more time.