My biological father, Carl, passed away from complications with Cancer Treatment June 14, 2013. He went in for an appointment June 13 in the AM, that I did not know about, and was given the wrong bag for his iv. Not long after he told the lady he was with that he was not feeling right and passed out. Lynn, the lady he was with, said that the iv bag they attached looked nothing like the ones he always received.
Hours later she finally called me. I am guessing that at this point the doctors had told her that she needed to call family because he was not going to make it. HOURS later she called me. His ONLY daughter. He was taken to the ER at OU Medical in Oklahoma, City. When I arrived there and saw him unconscious, it was heartbreaking.
Growing up I did not know this man. He did not become a part of my regular life until my late teens. And even then, as close as we lived to each other, coming up with gas money to see each other all the time was an issue. Over the years though we had an understanding and learned more and more about who we were.
Typical dysfunctional family, while I was there, it was brought up about the house that my dad owned and his belongings. Legally my dad was married to a woman he had left a couple years before. My dad and Lynn had had a ceremony like a wedding. So it was brought up that his things needed to be taken care of. While we were there she had sent someone to dad’s house and took his stuff. Stuff I think she thought would be of some value.
Taking his stuff happened early that nite. Late that nite we all left to get some sleep. At 2 am I got a call that I needed to hurry up and get there because he was deteriorating. Before we had all left, they had finally moved him out of the er to the ICU where I was told that no one was allowed to go. I take the elevator to the ICU floor and hunt down his room. When I find it I peek into the room. I am standing there, looking at each person in that room. I can only assume that shock was on my face, one doctor was looking back at me with such a sad face. They were laughing and joking while a woman was straddle my dad giving him CPR.
Dealing with a crazy family, being told I could not spend any time with my dad in his last moments and this is what I walk into. I stood there for what seemed like a long time. The doctor with the sad look on his face gets the attention of the doctor in charge. He looks at me, realises who I am and gets the attention of the rest of the people in the room. I walk out. It’s a bit much.
I’m sitting in a chair just outside his room when the doctor comes out and tells me that he has a heartbeat. Joy, excitement, Hope is all running thru me! I call Lynn and everyone else I can think of that lives here to tell them they need to come up.
Not long after I had to make a decision. Let them try life saving measures again if they needed to, or let him go. I was told he was brain dead and would be on life support. About 6 am he was gone. By this time I was all cried out. Exhausted. And unable to do anything else. A family member cleaned him up and we waited for the funeral home people to come get him.
I am poor, my family is poor. My dad was poor and his side of the family not wealthy. I had to make calls to find out what the cost of having my dad buried would be. There is nothing worse than having to call around to find the cheapest place to have your father moved to because you cannot afford to have him buried. “There is nothing worse.”
I called around, found a place and when they had him moved, I went to look at the place. First impression, it was awful and I sank, just sank. The guy who runs the place is an amazingly kind guy. I would not have made it thru that experience had it not been for his kindness. I could not look at my dad for the viewing. After dealing with family and walking in on the nurses and doctors laughing and joking it was just something I could not handle. He was cremated and life was supposed to move on.
My memories though are marred by the experience at OU and of Lynn taking what was most valued to my family, that could be passed down to my son, greed. And because Lynn was close friends with the cop in Arcadia, I was illegally blocked from getting his motorcycle and car. Honestly though, what I wanted the most, what I needed of my dad’s, was his wallet and family information he had that would have led me to his son, my brother, Alvin Chung. All I know about my brother is that he lived in California.
I have to carry that whole ordeal with me. And three years later they still haunt me. My only piece of joy I can have is his hugs. I miss his hugs.