The Jahorina papers

Natural death

I finally started writing those words which would hurt. Nevertheless, I thought I had to write them. It was a way to release all my bottled up anger, a way to express my gratitude for a good man I was missing so much: my father. My name is Peter Dax. I'm retired, being oldest of four brothers. A few months ago, I lost my father, but the circumstances of his dead still seemed suspicious and strange to me. My family always took my main consideration, until the sudden dead of my father, until I observed questionable events during my father's last days on earth, during and after his funeral. I started writing.
"Mother, the last few months have been extremely painful for all of us! At least that is what I would like to believe. After reviewing some happenings during fathers last weeks in the hospital, during and after his funeral, I got a bitter taste in my mouth. Especially your reaction a few days ago has been the last drop which made the cup run over, pushing me into writing these words in order to clarify a few things."
I stopped writing. Once again I consulted my conscience. However, after a careful consideration, I resumed the hard task I had imposed to myself.
"...Only a few weeks after my aunts funeral, I found my father in the hospital, being in a comatose condition, accentuated by a clearly deterioration of physical strength which affected me deeply. However, the behavior of some relatives did shock me even more!"
I made a pause, lost in painful memories. I'm living three hundred kilometers apart of my family, consisted of my parents and three brothers, all living in a circle of twenty kilometers.
Six month's ago, my aunt died. She was father's sister and his last remaining family member. Just before the funeral, I met my father at home and I ignored that it would be the last time I would see him there. Despite his age of eighty-six, he still radiated good health and vitality.
However, a few months later I was called to the hospital. My life changed when I entered that small room in the intensive care ward where I met a completely different looking man. I could hardly believe my eyes, spotting a thin emaciated skeleton stretched out on blank sheets. My eyes focused on the skull, barely covered with a thin transparent skin, bent backward, the eyes closed. A toothless mouth gaped widen open and two plastic pipes disappeared in the nose. A drain was fixed on a needle in his arm while another connected to a drip which hung on a metallic L-formed stand. Electrical wires fixed on the breast with band-aid went up to a cardiograph beeping all the time on the rhyme of his heartbeat, its frequency much too high.
I was afraid to approach the bed, afraid to find out more horrible things. My wife stayed discretely behind me while my sister in law, Catherine, my youngest brother's wife already had taken place on the right edge of the iron bed. I reluctantly made the last steps toward that small bundle of misery who indeed was my father!
I'm not a sentimental and I rarely show my feelings, but this time I could not withhold my tears, uncontrollable running down my cheeks. When I carefully touched the left arm lying beside a limp body, so fragile, so thin, I felt overwhelmed by unexplainable feelings making me nearly ill.
My mother had told me previously that my father had felt out the bed, in the middle of the very first night in the hospital. Indeed, impossible to oversee the dark blue marks along the naked arm. Carefully, I rolled the bony body upward in order to inspect its back and I discovered a large dark blue area, completely covering the left side. I also inspected his head and was not surprised to discover a big bump on the backside.
In the meanwhile, Catherine was reporting the accident but I was not really listening because growing anger was overrunning the previous feelings of pain and sadness bubbling deep inside me. My father was in a good shape when he entered that hospital. Not ill! He just needed a check-up. "Recharging his batteries", as the doctor called it. No need for staying a long period, only for a few days.
Now, he was in a coma. How could that happen so abruptly, without any signs of forewarning? Strange, even the doctors did not produce a credible diagnosis. However, the day he entered the hospital, he felt healthy enough to quarrel with the nurses. Being in a bad mood, he had loudly insisted to return at home! He was much alive and very active!
At some time in the middle of the night, he must have dropped out the bed and remained unconsciousness on the floor for hours. They found him during a routine night round. Incomprehensibly, but according to the doctors, despite of the bruises, despite of the huge bump indicating a heavy fall, the incident did not cause his actual condition.
Bullshit. I will never believe that.
In addition, lovely Catherine aroused more surprises. According to her, nobody knew about that bump! She discovered it at the moment I did! Imagine, during days they were all holding father's hand, but nobody had found necessary to examine that limp body. They never asked why he lapsed into coma. Why did they not take pictures of the suffered injuries?
My mother, three brothers and Catherine did not do anything about it.
I started trembling of growing anger. I proceeded with the writing, using words I never used before, dictated by helpless anger.
"...Finding back my father in a critical shape is one thing, but finding out that his whole body is covered with bruises did not only shock me deeply but made me also furious. His physical condition was not due to dehydration but was probably caused by the fall. How is it possible that everybody overlooked that bump? Why did the doctors not tell? How is it possible that nobody asked additional examination? Did you really accept that incoherent explanation given by the medical staff? Did you not think one moment that they never would admit that the coma could indeed be the result of the accident? They were afraid of the trouble you could have made!
Why did they do finally the examination anyway, but ONE week later?
No, father has simply been "written off" by his relatives. In fact, during my first visit I got already the impression that his decease would be a relief for all family members. I will never forget Catherine's dared suggestion to 'put him out of misery' by giving him an injection.
How heartbreaking and how human!"
I took another break. My heart was beating fast and my fingers were crushing the pen. I lost myself in memories again, seeing every scene in mind.
Catherine interfered in the family affairs while my brothers remained passive. Probably they were afraid to get involved, fearing that mother could ask them for some help.
I always had estimated Catherine as a nice lovely person, chatty by nature but sympathetic. Even there, after leaving the hospital, driving back to the parent's home, I felt happy for mother that she could reckon on her support.
However, during that short trip, she continued talking, explaining her honorable involvement. I barely heard her! I still felt uncomfortable about the suggestion she had pronounced in the hospital, across my father's bed! Now, she was telling us that "she" alone was dealing with the medical staff and I heard vaguely that the doctors would not do any effort to revive my father should he ever encounter any heart problem.
She was also complaining about her stressful daily trips to the hospital. Finally, only half an hour later in my parent's house, she pronounced the words, which changed my mind about her.
I was discussing with my mother, trying to find out more details about fathers accident. I criticized the doctor's behavior and I blamed my family's passivity. I advised my mother to assure her economies, that she should take her savings from the bank, because in case of an eventually decease all her accounts would be frozen. I also advised her to give my single brother the ownership of the house because he still lived with my parents.
Unexpectedly, Catherine reacted virulent: "Why should HE get the house?"
It was not a simple question, but a reprimand. Her mask had dropped and I discovered suddenly her real ugly nature. The greed betrayed her. On that very short moment, she understood her failure!
"...What I heard through Catherine's mouth was so awful. You know that I liked her and that she always has been my preferred sister in law! How could you give her the authority to deal with the medical staff? Doctors do not have to decide about life or dead. The decision whether or not to revive a patient is a family decision, so I guess that everybody at home had previously agreed with the doctor's plan?
I WOULD NOT!
Why did you not ask our opinion? I observed that Catherine got in charge of everything and I witnessed how she gave you orders! You have ignored my advice at the time you still could freely act but actually you are trapped.
Did you ignore Catherine's unacceptable reaction or did you not?
Nevertheless, you were all wrong! Father was much stronger than you believed he was and he came back to the living and would soon return at home!"
I smiled satisfied while writing those words. I wanted to hit somebody. Yes, they obviously had condemned father, being sure he would soon expire. However, he had not been ready for death! When mother phoned me to announce that father regained consciousness, I felt released and happy.
Two days later, my wife and I visited him in the hospital and we took mother with us.
What a difference.
My father was not jumping around nor was he dancing, but he was alive and he recognized us immediately. Good sign, he was joking with the nurses! He was still weak, normal after two weeks of intravenous food absorption through plastic tubes. However, he survived the crisis and I instantly forgot all my previous dark ideas. On that moment, I even forgave Catherine and my brother's passive behavior.
We discussed and I could not guess that it would be the very last time we did so! He was fine, motivated to get strong enough and eager to get back home. He still needed some help for eating, but at least he was willing to recover.
We stayed one hour, during which he stepped out the bed to take a seat on the couch. When he later returned to bed and started looking television, we have left that room, plenty of hope. I promised myself to spend more time with my parents. Life is so short but everything would be fine now.
When we arrived at mother's house, we drank some cup of cafe and returned at home, ignoring mother's incredible plan. During the trip, my wife and I discussed father's condition and we agreed that we would take care of him if needed.
A few days later, I received a phone call from mother who announced me that father would not come back at home. She would put him in an "old people's home"! Did I hear right? I felt sick. How could she do that? She had even told me before that his health was improving.
Nevertheless, together with Catherine she was already executing the plan and they had visited the home where they reserved father's room. I suddenly realized that Catherine has become the main player in this drama.
I continued writing down my frustrations.
"...How is it possible? First, you are condemning father and when he comes back, which is already a small miracle, you decide to expel him! You planned everything with Catherine I guess. It's a shame. Father worked 14 hours a day. Retired, he went out shopping by bicycle and later by motorcycle, in rain, snow and dust. When I bought my first house, he came over to help me with the renovation works.
He was already 75 years old! In any case, you could rely on him, always helpful.
You know, he would never have agreed to go to that "old people's home!" What an expression of gratitude you have reserved him! He did not deserve that. He owned a house and he had enough savings, which should have covered all possible nursing costs at home. Anyway, one day he would recover and regain certain independence..."
I thought about my hypothesis.
Ten days later, during a weekend, I got another call. Father had lost consciousness. How did that happen? His condition was improving, wasn't it?
Mother informed me that he suddenly had refused to take any food and the medical staff had put him again on intravenous feeding. Mother promised to inform me whenever he regained consciousness.
He died a few days later.
Only the close relatives attended the funeral: mother, brothers, and grandchildren. After the ceremonies, the assembly joined the small restaurant in front of the church for a family diner. I observed many disturbing events during those painful moments, but I could not place them at that time. I felt so much affected by losing my father.
Only a few days later, I faced the hard reality. The notary office, taking care of mother's inheritance, had sent me a letter. My brothers and I were invited to visit the office in order to sign a kind of renouncing certification, permitting my mother to inherit father's part. When father died, all the common belongings and saving accounts were blocked by law.
Signing the paper meant that we would accept to give up our part of father's inheritance, being the half of the common belongings.
At the first moment, I did not have any objection. However I could not stop thinking about the circumstances of fathers decease. I was still hesitating when mother called me some days later, asking me if I already had sent a mandate on my brother's name, so he could sign in my place the renouncing documents! When I asked her the value of that part, she refused to answer.
On that moment, I remembered what Catherine had revealed in the car after my first visit, when I had taken her back from the hospital. She knew that my parents possessed a comfortable amount of savings. Now it disturbed me that she knew what we ignored, that what mother wanted to remain a secret for her sons. Therefore, I wrote a letter to the notary office, requesting details about the inheritance and our rights.
The reply on my request increased my anger. Indeed, the amount of the legacy was about one hundred thousand Euro. I always had presumed that my parents owned modest savings! Mother's statements that she could not afford the costs for father's home nursing, did not stand any more and did not justify father's admission in an "Old people's house",!
During his whole life, father had been the only breadwinner! However mother had not allowed him to use his saving to preserve his own health! I suddenly understood Catherine's attitude...
I called my mother and blamed her behavior, telling her coldly that the money she so eagerly wanted also had belonged to father...She broke the conversation. I condemned her heartlessness, as father would have condemned her. If he would have known before dying! Perhaps he did?
"...I have collected information about home nursing. I can assure you that this would have been even cheaper than sending father to the "Old people's house". You are only looking for cheap excuses in order to release your conscience. Why not admit that you just wanted to get rid of him. He had become a useless charge you did not want around you. You refused to waste the savings for nursing.
You probably thought, "Why spent money for someone who is condemned anyway?" Your words "it would have been too expensive." hurt me because it is painful to find out that YOU, his wife, our mother, let him down just for money!
The money you actually claim being yours was father's legitimate part. I would not believe it when the facts were not so obvious.
You arranged everything with Catherine, didn't you? What right did SHE have to make those decisions about our father? There is even more. I am questioning myself all the time about my father's sudden and unexpected decision to stop eating. Would there not have been a little bird, singing in his ears: 'You're going to an Old people's house'?
Catherine visited father every day. Holding his cold hand and talking to him. Her sayings and her involvement in your decision-making, make me believe that she could have been that little bird. Everybody knew that my father in that case would have preferred dying instead of going to that home. That's what he finally did: dying."
I went to the refrigerator and took a bottle of beer. My mouth was dry and I was slightly shaking. I knew that I never had pronounced similarly accusations before, because I always had loved and respected my parents.
Could I be wrong?
There were so many indications, which confirmed that diabolic hypothesis. My thoughts went back to the funeral. I remembered that small group of people sitting behind the coffin, which stood in the middle of a half circle formed by two rows of chairs. The coffin laid on a small-wheeled support.
I was sitting on mothers left side, my other brothers on her right and the grandsons behind her in the second row. During the ceremony, I was looking around and I observed all the faces. Some were silently crying, but Catherine was the noisiest of all. On the other hand, my mother's expressionless face made me uncomfortable. There were no spilled tears for the man with whom she had shared her life for more than fifty years.
Another event also disturbed me. Almost at the end of the celebration, the priest started summarizing my father's exemplary life, insisting that the only sunshine in his old days had been his youngest grandchild, Melissa, Catherine's daughter. He had loved her so much. No words lost for the other grandchildren.
I was surprised. There were six grandchildren and I know that father had loved them all. My eyes caught my other sister in law's look. We both understood.
She had three and I had two children, while father was also my daughter's godfather. The priest could not have been aware of the family matters so Catherine probably had arranged that special act during the religious celebration. The priest has called Melissa to join him in order to light a candle and to read aloud a poem. After the ceremony, he gave her a smaller candle to take it home as a souvenir.
A beautiful, touching scene! A well directed scene using her innocent child as the main actor.
Outside the church, all relatives were obviously in a hurry, crossing immediately the street, walking to the restaurant while the undertakers' men put the coffin into the hearse. The car drove away but who saw that? My wife, daughter, son and I were looking for a last time toward the disappearing car with the remains of a good man. In days later, we would have our last meeting with his mortal remains into the crematorium.
During the meal, Catherine made a last remark, for ever burned in memory:
"It was time that everything was over..."
I am not a paranoiac individual. However, there were so many disturbing events happening around my fathers dead that I honestly believed that he could still be alive...
"...I'm convinced that Catherine is not that lovely person you think she is. I think she's a calculating bitch, using her daughter as bait, playing with your feelings. The disgusting "Spielberg performance" in the church was deliberately directed and a slap in the face of all other grandchildren. She's probably thinking that she should be rewarded handsomely. I'm convinced that father loved all his grandchildren equally and he would never have agreed that piece of theater we all have witnessed.
She told us that she needed a new car, but she hadn't the money. The puzzle is getting complete. Pieces are falling together. It would not be surprise if she informed father about his final destination. She knew about your financial situation. She got immediately involved when father entered hospital and she appointed herself as the family representative. She dealt with the medical staff and took own decisions. She was regularly alone with father, days before he stopped eating and she knew I would inform him once when he would have been in that home.
She claimed that he had to go to the "old people's house" and when I hear your arguments, I am hearing the echo of her voice.
You have said that you paid her gasoline for the daily trips, but she was not ashamed to tell us that those daily trips were stressful and expensive.
That remembers me a similar event, six years ago, when I was on mission abroad, in Albania during the Kosovo war. One day you called and informed me that father was admitted into the hospital. I took immediately the plane. Fortunately for father, because I found out that he was nearly dying while nobody was doing something to prevent it. He did not eat but nobody cared. He was condemned. You remember,I have phoned the house doctor and I have threatened him after which he agreed to assure that the medical staff would seriously take care of him.
Once over eighty, do you not deserve an adequate medical care any more?
Father has finally recovered!
Your phone call shortly after father's funeral was only to check whether or not I had sent back the renouncing papers for the inheritance. In normal circumstances I would have done it. However, actually I will propose another deal. I will not renounce and I will advise my brothers to do the same. I consider that father's part could have extended his life if you would have behaved otherwise instead of keeping the savings intact for yourself or for whatever you may have yet planned.
During father's agony in the hospital, you told me that family affairs were not mines. This time they are! I think honestly that my behavior would have my father's blessing. I also propose to give my brother Julian ma part of the house, because he is the only one who does not have any property, staying with you all the time. Therefore, he deserves it. "
I signed and put down the pencil. I did not have the courage to read my own words. I needed a break.
What was I doing? I took another beer, sat down and went through the text again, the worst phrases I ever wrote during my whole life. However, the anger pushed me to go on with this. She was my mother, but what has she done to my father?
What could I have done?
All my advises and complains had encountered only opposition and I was living too far away in order to have seen in time what really was going on. Am I just looking for excuses? Was there nothing more what I could have done? Perhaps if I would have written this letter earlier, when father was still alive, perhaps it could have extended his life.
Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps!
I will never now the answer, but this time I would not hesitate.
The next morning I posted my letter and I lost the rest of my family.