TeasingGeorgia

It's just so hard right now. I can't do much of anything except think of Marigold.

Thank you so much for your kind words. We really appreciate them. Marty, the proverb you posted is lovely. I've been gazing at stars quite a bit these days and thinking of my parents and sweet baby niece.

My brother and SIL lost their sweet baby girl at 21 weeks today. My SIL just had a checkup and sonogram and everything was fine, but on the 9th her water broke and she was put on bed rest. We prayed to God for a miracle, but the baby was born this morning and was with us for 45 minutes. She was so tiny and perfect. We are heartbroken and don’t understand how things could be fine and then all of a sudden we lose her. We named her Marigold and will always love her. We have lost too many loved ones in our family. First mom, then dad, then my aunt, and now baby Marigold. I just don’t know what to do with myself anymore.

Easter is almost here, and I'm missing my mom and dad so much. Mom died April 12 last year, and was buried on Good Friday. She never had the chance to open the special Easter basket my brother and SIL fixed for her that had the sonogram of her new grandbaby, a beautiful, precious boy born on December 4. We were supposed to spend Easter as a family at Oschner in New Orleans, but she passed away instead. I hate cancer. It has wrecked so many lives. My dad was heartbroken and we think her sudden death contributed to his. He had COPD, diabetes, and other health issues, but his heart was broken. We tried to mend it, but couldn't. I still feel so guilty for not forcing him to go to the doctor. Maybe they could have saved him. All the joy has been sucked out of my life, and I feel so alone right now. My sister and her husband live up in Selmer, Tennessee, and my brother and SIL live over in Hattiesburg. With my parents gone, I feel like I don't have a family anymore. We are getting together for Easter, but in a few days, everyone will go back home, and I will be alone again in an empty house. I wish the pain would go away. But what I really want is my parents back. I know God isn't punishing me, but sometimes it feels like he is. Thanks for listening, TeasingGeorgia

Thank you all so much for your kind replies. @Marty T: One of the songs played at Dad's funeral was "My Way" by Elvis Presley. When I read your comment, I got a chill. It's like he was telling me that through you. @iPraise Him: Thank you for sharing your wife's story. I don't feel so alone now. I hope someday, there will be a cure for COPD. It's a terrible disease. @kayc: I read the article you and Marty T recommended. Thank you. It really helped. I am on my lunch break at work now. Today is my birthday, and my sister sent me some beautiful pink roses (my favorite). I'll stop by the cemetery after work, and I'm going out to eat with friends after choir practice tonight. What I've been learning to do since Mom's death in April is to take things minute by minute. You are wonderful, and God bless you. I am so thankful I found this site. Yours, TeasingGeorgia

Hello. I’m very new here, and I don’t know where to begin except to say that I’m heartbroken. I apologize in advance if this post is long. A lot of terrible things happened to me, and there aren’t many places I can be myself and just talk about my feelings. My mother died suddenly and unexpectedly on April 12, 2017 at Ochsner of acute myeloid leukemia. It happened less than two weeks after her ENT initially suspected that she had cancer. None of us, not even mom herself, knew she sick, as she was so vibrant and active. It was devastating. She was truly the heart of our family. She and my father were married 51 years, and while Dad didn’t talk about the loss much, we all knew he was heartbroken. My father died February 13. I was living with him so I could take care of him after Mom passed away. Dad suffered from a lot of heath problems, including COPD, emphysema, diabetes, and an enlarged heart. He was very dependent on Mom, and I picked up where she left off the best I could, seeing that he took his meds, getting his meals ready, getting his CPAC and bed ready at night, etc. But I failed in my duties as a caretaker. I could have saved him. Dad has always had difficulty breathing, and around Thanksgiving, his feet began to swell. My sister and I noticed and offered to take him to the doctor. But he refused. As much as we loved him, he was a very stubborn man who refused to go to the doctor unless he needed his prescriptions refilled. By Christmas, his feet were looking really terrible, and his breathing was worse. My brother, sister, and I were begging him to go to the doctor. But he still refused, insisting that he was ok. What he did do was let me fix an Epsom salt soak for his feet. But the swelling didn’t go away. So I went behind his back and set up an appointment with his doctor for January 2. But the weather was terrible at the time, and he told me that it was too cold to go to the doctor and to cancel the appointment. His 6 month appointment was February 5, so I respected his wishes and cancelled it, making sure to keep the 2/5 appointment. On February 2, his CPAC machine broke. He told me to take a look at it, but I had no idea how to fix it, so I took it to Thrift Home Care (the local supplier for O2 and breathing supplies). I filled out the paperwork and was told that he would need a prescription from his doctor to get a new one. I took this as good news because it meant he couldn’t get out of going to the doctor this time. He would have to see the doctor whether he wanted to or not. We rode out a very rough weekend without his CPAC. He was going through 2 tanks of O2 a day, and I begged him to let me take him to the ER. My sister was calling twice a day, begging him to go. My brother was using pictures of his new grandson (his namesake) as leverage, begging him to go. But he refused to go and said he was right where he wanted to be. Sunday night, he even pulled a stunt trying to get out of going to the doctor on 2/5. He said, “I want you to call the doctor Monday, and get the prescription for me. Then I won’t have to go.” I informed him it doesn’t work that way, so if he wanted a new machine, he’d have to go whether he liked it or not. So on February 5, we went to the doctor as scheduled. I described all his symptoms: his difficulty breathing, his swollen feet, leaning over in his chair, falling asleep in his chair, etc. She suspected congestive heart failure and ran some tests. Then she set him up for a 2/15 appointment with a heart specialist. I also told her he needed a new CPAC, and she wrote the prescription. Dad was happy because he was ready for his CPAC. After dropping Dad off at home, I went to Thrift with the prescription, but they told me they didn’t have everything ready yet. They were waiting for Medicare and other paperwork. They gave me more O2, and I went home. Dad got crabby with me because he was expecting to get his CPAC right then so he could take a nice long nap. On February 6, Dad stumbled getting out of bed and wanted me to stay home with him (I am a school librarian). So I took the day and sat with Dad. All day I begged him to let me take him to the ER. My sister and brother were calling and begging him to get to the doctor. My aunt (his sister) begged him to go. But he would not go. We told him that if we called 911, an ambulance would come for him and he wouldn’t even have to get out of his chair. But he said he didn’t need an ambulance. I asked him if he wanted me to call my uncle (his BIL), or his best friend. But he said no, he was OK. On February 7, he finally got his new CPAC and had a great night’s sleep. We got the results of the tests and found he didn’t have congestive heart failure. For the first time in a week, I got a good night’s sleep, too. But things fell apart. His feet were still swollen, and he was still groggy, falling asleep in his chair. I was still begging him to let me take him to the doctor, but he just wouldn’t go. He slept until 2:30 on Saturday. He did NOT sleep well without his CPAC and thought I was helping him by letting him sleep in. My aunt called and hollered at me when she found out I was letting him sleep that late. She told me I was the most cowardly, irresponsible adult she had ever met, that I needed to grow up, take responsibility, and call an ambulance. I did NOT need to hear that after the week I’d just been through getting the new machine and hung up on her. Dad woke up, grouchy as a bear because his sleep had been disturbed, and I told him it was nearly 3 in the afternoon. After church on Sunday, I fed him meatloaf and green beans, meal he normally loved, and he just picked at it. This concerned me, and I asked if he wanted me to call an ambulance or someone to come over. He said he was OK and was going to hold out for the doctor’s appointment he had on Thursday. On Monday, April 12, I prepped the library for some visiting VIPs, got him a happy for Valentine’s Day, and went home to fix him dinner. He said he wanted ravioli, so I fixed that for him. He ate every bite while we watched Women’s Snowboarding and the Men’s Super G. He kept telling me how much he loved me, and I told him how much I loved him, too. Around 10PM, I got his bed and CPAC ready, and he got up for bed. He stumbled a little, and I asked him was he sure he didn’t want me to call someone, and he said no, as always. When he got to the bathroom, I curled up with a cheesy romance novel. I heard him bump around in the bathroom and asked if he wanted some help, and he said no, he just wanted to go to bed. So what did I do but curl up with that stupid, cheesy romance novel again and settle down for the night. I woke up at 2:30 with a strange feeling. I checked on Dad, and he was sleeping. I was glad he was going to let me take him to the doctor on Thursday. And what did I do but lay back down and go to sleep. I woke up at 5:45, got up and ready for work like I always did. I fixed Dad coffee, poured his orange juice, set out his meds, and even put out a slice of king cake for him as a treat because it was Mardi Gras. I looked in on Dad, but didn’t wake him up, then I left for work. I wish I had stayed home. I wish I had just called 911 and dealt with him later. My aunt called me at work because he wouldn’t answer the phone. I left ASAP and went straight home to find that he had passed away in bed and had been lying there while I was at work. I am such a miserable failure as a caretaker. I should have done a better job and never left his side for even a second. I know my aunt blames me for his death, and I feel like the rest of the family does, too. All I want is to be buried next to my parents. I’m sorry I failed you, Dad, and Mom, I’m sorry I didn’t take care of him. Please forgive me. I will love you both forever and wish I was good enough to see you again. Thank you for listening, TeasingGeorgia