I can't really even remember the rest of the things that followed. I remember the significant moments... But everything else is really blurry. You would think I would remember that night clear as day, I know because I think the exact same thing. Anyway, moving on.
Amy came out, Cami's mom, and walked me into the house. I made a b-line for the couch. The other 4 kids were sleeping, I don't know how, those sirens could wake up a rock! Still crying like a baby. Wrapped my blanket even tighter around me. It was the blanket my dad had made me, it had written music on it. I taught him a few months previous to make the blankets, the easy ones, cut the fleece and tie it together. This one had been my 16th birthday present. Amy brought the toilet paper and a pillow, and I laid my head on her lap. I don't know how much time had passed, it seemed like a long time, but I don't think it was, time pretty much stopped that night.
Gramps came over. "We had to let him go." I said okay, and that was it. He gave me a hug and told me grams would be over in a little bit an he left. The tears stopped completely, and I went numb. I felt nothing. And I was thinking to myself, It's deffinetly not like the movies. in Hollywood, everyone is a complete crying and utter mess when it comes to death, but I don't feel anything. Am I okay? Is this not normal? I didn't feel like that was me, that this was happenig to someone else, I just had the misfortune of being there. I stood up, felt light headed and sat back down, my body was shaking, I was cold, and felt like I was going to pass out. Amy brought me a glass of juice and told me to drink. I didn't want to, but I did. A bit later I got up, Amy was right behind me, I guess it was in case I fell, and I walked to the window that faced my house. There were flashes coming from behind the blinds and I started to panic. John came up beside me and told me that the cops were taking pictures because it was an "un-attended death". He said that grams and gramps would have to talk to the cops too as well as himself. He closed the blinds after that. I bet you can guess why.
Amy hugged me and told me that what I was feeling was completely normal. Was it? What feeling? She took me back to the couch and told me to get some sleep. I went into the bathroom and check where I had hurt myself, there was deffinetly a bruise and a big red mark that hurt and was probably going to hurt for a while. Great. I went back to the couch and fell into a dreamless light sleep if that even qualifies as sleeping. Next thing I knew it was 7 o' clock on Saturday morning. Day 1.
Sunday, August 23, 2009
The Worst Part of the Worst Day of My Life
4:00 AM December 6, 2008. I was asleep, but I was somewhat conscious too, if that makes any sense. I remember hearing "Mom!", and that's what woke me up half way. That's the word I normally woke up to in the middle of the night when dad needed something and he couldn't get it, being wheel-chair and bed ridden. The next thing I remember is hearing grams yell "Mike!? Mike?!" I thought it was part of a dream, but when she yelled "Ayla!" up the stairs that dream became my reality, a bad reality. She yelled again for me to get my grandpa. I sat up in bed thinking, this isn't good, please no. I walked out of the room and met grandpa at the top of the stairs, a silent message from him to me, "it's okay" I ran down the stairs and grazed my hip against the hand railing deeply. I took a sharp left and was standing in front of dad's room. He was on the floor unconscious, he had fallen out of his wheel chair.
Gramps was there a few moments after I was, I just stood there. Gramps asked what to do and grams asked him if he knew CPR, she didnt, and he started in. She asked if he needed help and he said yes and asked if either of us knew CPR, she said I did, and I freaked, yes I'd had the training, but I had forgotten. All I could say was "I dont remember, I'm sorry, I don't remember". Grams hugged me and told me it was okay, the paramedics were on their way to help. She had me leave the room and I stood in the entry hall to the side as grams yelled out the door "Hurry! He's not breathing! Hurry up!" As they came in the house, she had me go up the stairs to my room. Cami was sitting up in bed and sat down not saying anything. Her cell phone raing, it was her dad John, from next door. I could see him outside the window, his hand outstretched praying. She gave the phone to me and he asked what happend. I could only answer "He's not breathing he stopped breathing." I gave the phone to gramps and they talked for a few moments. Gramps sat on the bed next to me and gave me a hug, telling me it was okay. He told Cami and I to go next door to her place for now so I did. He went downstairs and Cam and I just looked at eachother. "You ready?" she asked and I nodded. We went down the stairs and to the right to take the back way so we didn't have to look. I went into dad's room and gave grams and gramps a big hug. I'll be completely honest when I say I've never seen my grandfather cry. This was their son, their oldest, the father of their first two grandkids. My grams gave up her job so that she could take care of my dad 5 years ago. Her life really did revolve around him. "I'm so sorry", she said to me. I told her it was okay. I don't know who I was fooling when I told myself it would be okay, they would be able to start his heart just like they did that past 10 times.
I grabbed Cam, and we ran out the door. I ran straight for John and grabbed him and cried. I knew it wasnt going to be okay. And so started the rest of the long night.
Gramps was there a few moments after I was, I just stood there. Gramps asked what to do and grams asked him if he knew CPR, she didnt, and he started in. She asked if he needed help and he said yes and asked if either of us knew CPR, she said I did, and I freaked, yes I'd had the training, but I had forgotten. All I could say was "I dont remember, I'm sorry, I don't remember". Grams hugged me and told me it was okay, the paramedics were on their way to help. She had me leave the room and I stood in the entry hall to the side as grams yelled out the door "Hurry! He's not breathing! Hurry up!" As they came in the house, she had me go up the stairs to my room. Cami was sitting up in bed and sat down not saying anything. Her cell phone raing, it was her dad John, from next door. I could see him outside the window, his hand outstretched praying. She gave the phone to me and he asked what happend. I could only answer "He's not breathing he stopped breathing." I gave the phone to gramps and they talked for a few moments. Gramps sat on the bed next to me and gave me a hug, telling me it was okay. He told Cami and I to go next door to her place for now so I did. He went downstairs and Cam and I just looked at eachother. "You ready?" she asked and I nodded. We went down the stairs and to the right to take the back way so we didn't have to look. I went into dad's room and gave grams and gramps a big hug. I'll be completely honest when I say I've never seen my grandfather cry. This was their son, their oldest, the father of their first two grandkids. My grams gave up her job so that she could take care of my dad 5 years ago. Her life really did revolve around him. "I'm so sorry", she said to me. I told her it was okay. I don't know who I was fooling when I told myself it would be okay, they would be able to start his heart just like they did that past 10 times.
I grabbed Cam, and we ran out the door. I ran straight for John and grabbed him and cried. I knew it wasnt going to be okay. And so started the rest of the long night.
My Father's Past
Before I get into the big part there are.... several things that need to be known about my dad. Michael Ray Iliff. My dad has always been sick. at 16 he was limping and psoriatic arthritis was crippeling his body. By the time I was in 5th grade, he had both of his legs amputated just below the knee. When he was born he didn't have an arch in either of his feet, so the doctors proceeded to put artificial bones in his feet to recreate the arch. The bones started pushing out the bottom of his feet when I was very young. He was diagnosed with type II Diabetes when I was in middle school. By the time he died, he was on about 20 or so perscription drugs about a quarter of which were so strong, they could be sold on the streets of Seattle for about $200 for 1/4 of a pill! One medication he had was so potent we were told not to dump it on the ground and donate it to a local vetrenatian or take it to the pharmacy because it would screw up the water table! Uh, WOAH!Hospitals, yeah don't even get me started. To put it simply, he had been in and out of Olympic Medical Center, Harborview and UW general care and ICU/CCU so much that the nurses knew me by name and had pictures of me. When I was little, the nurses used to play with my sister and I.August of 2008 my aunt pulled my sister and I aside and told us that the previous night, dad's heart had stopped, and that he was okay, but he was put into a medically induced coma and on a ventilator. This happened several more times throughout the following months, and every time it was a little longer than the previous time that it took to recessitate him. The first cause, he had crush syndrome, where his body was collapsing on itself, his lungs were being crushed. The second cause, his body would take in enough oxygen, and he would exhale, but the carbon dioxide wouldnt all be released, and in the body Co2 is a waste, exhaling is the way for the body to get rid of the waste, but it was being built up, he was basically suffocating to death.The doctors told us that when they released him, that meant their was nothing else they could do to help him other than giving him respirator so his heart didn't stop at night. Other than that, it would just be left up to time. Basically, they would be sending him home to die. And that's exactly what happened.
Saturday, August 22, 2009
The Best Part of The Worst day of My Life
December 6, 2008, not a good day for me. Just to let you know, 2009 was the worst and the best year of my life. How is that possible? I have NO idea. It really did start out as another boring school day, all of the students counting down the days and hours until we were set free for winter vacation. In my literature class, Annie (my bestie of 10 years) invited me to go pick out a Christmas tree with her sister and mother. Since volleyball season was over I didn't have anything to do afterschool, so why not. Our literature teacher (I swear she's a nazi), came by and gave us the "We're-not-discussing-this-in-class-now-get-back-to-work-look.... also known as the death glare.
After school, FREEEEDOM! We drove to the JC Penny's parking lot where they have the "fresh" cut trees that have been there for a month or so, no biggy, they're just falling apart a little and dried out so badly you should just cut it up for fire wood and save the hassle of dragging out the ornaments and fighting with the tree lights. We sipped our Starbuck's hot chocolate and wandered through the oh so many isles of trees when my phone rings. It's my gramps. He said dad was coming home from the hospital over at UW (University of Washington) and would be home by about 6. Which, if you knew my father and grandmother, you would add two hours to that. Dad had been in the hospital in and out for the past 6 or 7 months with major ups and downs, mainly downs, his house had been declining the last few years. That wasn't in my mind at the time, my Papa was coming home! As soon as they were done picking out the Christmas tree, they took me home and I bounced through the house for hours until dad arrived.
I helped my grams unload the car full of clothes, pictures, and the new machines dad needed to use now. After, I went to spend a few hours with dad until I went to bed, I had to leave early the next morning to go to Holly-Palooza with the choir at Warm Beach. We talked about school, the choir concerts, volleyball, and the piano recitals that had taken places while he was gone. It really was the perfect way to end a week and the perfect beginning to a fun-packed weekend to come. I got a txt from my friend next door who wanted to spend the night with me that night, so she came over for a few hours and then we went to bed at about 12. I came down the stairs to say goodnight to dad and give him a hug and a kiss, but grams was dressing his wounds so I said "Buenas Noches Padre, te amo mucho! I'll see you in the morning". He said he loved me to and that he'd wake me up in the morning so I could get ready to leave, and then I went up to my room with Cam for the night.
After school, FREEEEDOM! We drove to the JC Penny's parking lot where they have the "fresh" cut trees that have been there for a month or so, no biggy, they're just falling apart a little and dried out so badly you should just cut it up for fire wood and save the hassle of dragging out the ornaments and fighting with the tree lights. We sipped our Starbuck's hot chocolate and wandered through the oh so many isles of trees when my phone rings. It's my gramps. He said dad was coming home from the hospital over at UW (University of Washington) and would be home by about 6. Which, if you knew my father and grandmother, you would add two hours to that. Dad had been in the hospital in and out for the past 6 or 7 months with major ups and downs, mainly downs, his house had been declining the last few years. That wasn't in my mind at the time, my Papa was coming home! As soon as they were done picking out the Christmas tree, they took me home and I bounced through the house for hours until dad arrived.
I helped my grams unload the car full of clothes, pictures, and the new machines dad needed to use now. After, I went to spend a few hours with dad until I went to bed, I had to leave early the next morning to go to Holly-Palooza with the choir at Warm Beach. We talked about school, the choir concerts, volleyball, and the piano recitals that had taken places while he was gone. It really was the perfect way to end a week and the perfect beginning to a fun-packed weekend to come. I got a txt from my friend next door who wanted to spend the night with me that night, so she came over for a few hours and then we went to bed at about 12. I came down the stairs to say goodnight to dad and give him a hug and a kiss, but grams was dressing his wounds so I said "Buenas Noches Padre, te amo mucho! I'll see you in the morning". He said he loved me to and that he'd wake me up in the morning so I could get ready to leave, and then I went up to my room with Cam for the night.
Unspoken Thoughts
It's almost been a year since dad died, and it's weird to say that. It's true when they say "you don't know what you have, until it's gone". I'm not joking when I say everyone has been harping on me about "writing things down", or " keep sticky notes with you at all times to write down thoughts", all followed by the "you'll be sorry if you don't" ending. Honestly, I hate writing. And what's worst, I hate writing about myself, how I feel, and above all, I hate remembering things from the past and writing about them. Those are BIG "no no's" in my book. But, here I am, "writing"... If that's what you call being lazy and not liking your own handwriting. Goodness I don't even know where to begin there really isn't any beginning! Another thing, writing my life down is frustrating for me, I don't know where to start and when I do start I always leave something out. Anyone else have that problem?
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