my suggestion for him to live in our basement was mostly to help support him, but i also really liked the idea of my kids getting more frequent time with him, and getting to raise them in a multi-generational home. i also liked the idea of me, myself, getting more time with him. but i was happy with the compromise. he told me quite sincerely that one of the reasons why he did want to postpone living with us was because he didn't want to be a strain on my marriage. i found it very sweet and thoughtful of him.

during his hospital stay, he'd become anxious in the night since they'd taken all his meds from him and he was worried they were going to leave him to die. he started crying and told himself "i don't want to die. i have too much to live for. i want to see the juniors grow up, i want to see joelle graduate from queen's". when he told me this, i was caught off guard, because i didn't think he was at risk of dying. but i appreciated the window into his heart and mind, i found his words revealing and very touching.

he had arranged with his landlord that he would move to a vacant apartment on the ground floor, which would be ideal for him as he aged and would increasingly rely on a walker. the plan was that he would be fully moved out of his existing apartment by the end of july.

so by this point, it was the beginning of june. i believe it was june 4, the day before my nephew's birthday. about 10 days later, on a sunday morning, i got a call from KGH, which surprised me. i was told that my dad was in emerge and needed to be picked up for a drive home. apparently he was there about his feet. i was really surprised by that; "your feet? what's wrong with your feet?". so the boys and i headed over to KGH to pick him up. i was already planning on doing a costco run for him, so we took the long way down front road and stopped at reid's dairy before going to costco. it was around 10:30 in the morning, but he was delighted at the thought of getting an ice cream cone while at reid's dairy. he even suggested me getting one for myself and the boys. i got him his cone, and got jumbo freezies for the boys. we bumped into my friend melodie in the parking lot and i told her how my dad wanted an ice cream cone. we laughed and she said "that seems like a solid life choice", to which he just shrugged.

i tried to get more information about his feet, which he had not really thought to tell us much about at that point. it turns out, that during his previous visit at the hospital, he wasn't wearing any shoes or sandals when he frequently needed to rush to the washroom. this resulted in 6 or 7 pressure sores on the soles of his feet. he was in severe pain and had decided to go to the hospital in the night. i think he took a taxi there. they had arranged for some homecare to come in and tend to his wounds. about 3 days later, i got a call from a local foot clinic (where he had monthly appointments to care for his feet – just regular foot maintenance, toenails and stuff). he was there for an appointment and the woman felt he needed to go to the hospital asap. so he drove up to our house, and brendan gave him a drive down to KGH. he was in emerge for the afternoon and evening, and was admitted for these large wounds/ulcers.

the next sunday was father's day, and we were going to have a fun father's day bbq in joy's backyard. my dad was so looking forward to it, but we said we'd postpone. instead, i went to visit him in the hospital. i'd given him this 'write your own memoir" book a few years ago, and during the pandemic, i was at him about filling in the questions (since he had so much time on his hands). but he suggested that we work on it together. i could ask him the question and he could tell me about it, and I'd write it down. that was actually my original suggestion, so that was fine with me. so i took that along with me, and we had a nice long conversation (about 2 hours) about his family, upbringing and childhood. he was so thrilled to see me, and to spend time with me. he said "i feel like i've just had a counselling session!". his childhood was extremely difficult and adverse. they were a poor, irish family; with a elderly, veteran father (already in his 50s and 60s when his second batch of kids were born), who his kids called 'sarge' instead of dad and a mother with an undiagnosed mental illness. both were heavy drinkers. it was a very rich conversation, and i was looking forward to many more. despite the bandages on his feet he was in good spirits and really enjoyed talking. he would move around on his bed a lot, and would opt to lie at the footend of the bed, so he could see out the window better. he remained pretty agile. his spunky self.

a few days later, i got a call from a social worker at the hospital. she said she'd spoken with my dad about having a two-month respite at a local seniors facility to help rebuild his strength and prepare him for independent living again. he wanted her to call joy and me for our opinions. this sounded great to us. he would have the 24-hour support that we thought he'd benefit from. having a team who could monitor his health and take action as needed. they'd also be able to do wound care, physio, and his meals would be provided. it all sounded great to us. so he got moved there at the end of june, and had to be in quarantine for 2 weeks (which meant he couldn't leave his room).

things started out ok, although a little weird. but it was all new to us, and the circumstances were different because of COVID, so we remained optimistic. it was roughly a 20 minute drive from our house, and i would occasionally drive out supplies to him (clothing, reading material, toiletries, etc), since he'd taken nothing with him to that hospital that day, but wouldn't get to see him. he was starting to get increasingly disgruntled there, and was unhappy with some of the staff (one woman repeatedly called him rude, which upset him, since he was, at that point, in severe pain from his feet). he was feeling disoriented about the date and day of week, since there was no calendar and his watch was being repaired. on at least two occasions, he got a drive (once from a friend, and once from joy) down to the hospital. the first time might have been about his feet or lungs (the meds they had him on was causing his lungs to fill with water and he was having difficulty breathing), and the second time was about his kidney or gout. he was worried that he was getting dehydrated. both times, he returned to the seniors place with reassurance things were fine. he developed a flare up of gout in his right foot. he had a history with gout, and his father before him. but his family doctor (who my dad gave permission to speak with joy) said that there were no safe medications to treat gout that wouldn't harm my dad's kidneys. we learned that in the past, he had received treatment for his gout and it did do harm to his kidneys. the doctor explained to joy that eventhough everyone thinks of the heart as the most important organ, everything goes through the kidney. another complicating factor is that my dad was not getting enough blood circulation to his feet, which was why they weren't healing properly. he had an appointment scheduled for later in july with the vascular team to put a stint in his leg. by this point, joy and i agreed that one of us needed to go along with him to appointments. his hearing wasn't good (although he wouldn't wear his hearing aids), and we were starting to wonder if he was hearing everything the medical team was saying; and if he was, did he understand it well enough to explain it to us. between his wounds and his gout, he was in severe agony. he would call us, but not even talk, he'd just moan in pain. joy was particularly traumatized by those calls.

on joelle's birthday, we had a family get together at sydenham beach for eamon and joelle (since they're birthday neighbours). my dad was so down that he wasn't permitted to go. i tried to reassure him that it was just because of COVID, but he was definitely feeling like a prisoner in the seniors' place. on the sunday, one of the staff called joy to say he appeared to be depressed and wondered if we could visit. at that point, i didn't even know he was allowed visitors. we had a bit of a discussion trying to figure out what our responsibilities were. was it on us to muster up some friends of our dad's to go visit him? i was struggling a little with feeling like he had made relationship decisions (to leave his marriage, to date but never get serious with anyone, to pull away from a significant other in his life in recent years) that meant he didn't have a partner, and i was resisting providing more care in the situation that a 'regular daughter'. what were we responsible for? i pretty much landed on being a loving, caring daughter, but not trying to be all things to him.

while all this was happening, his wounds and legs were slowly becoming infected and none of us had any idea. he'd been given instructions on what to look for, things that would indicate an infection. but i had not seen him, and was relying on him and the team at the senior's place to be vigilant. when we spoke on the wednesday morning, he told me that he'd woken in the night (he had not been sleeping well for weeks, if not months, and would frequently lie awake at night), and thought he was in a drug treatment facility in buffalo. he had always abstained from substances, and i wasn't sure if he'd ever been to buffalo. but regardless, it was very odd. a staff member came in the room for some reason in the night, and my dad said "i'm so glad you're here" because it helped him come back to reality. over the morning, and into the afternoon, he was concerned that he was becoming dehydrated, which would harm his kidney. i didn't really see any reason why he'd be dehydrated and wondered if he was just disoriented in the night. he needed a nightlight and a calendar. he called to say he needed a drive to the hospital. i was reluctant, and tried to assure him he was ok (in hindsight, i realize that it was my hope that he was fine. i didn't want there to be an issue, so i had encouraged him to stay put), but told him we could give him a drive if he needed one. he looked into a taxi, but it was going to cost $400 (we thought this seniors facility was going to take care of any transportation to and from the hospital. even before this, it was clear that the care there was not what we'd signed up for. we were disappointed and frustrated by the situation there). so brendan and the boys headed out to pick him up, while i worked.