HOPE (First Week of Advent)

 

A HOPE-FILLED ADVENT
by Megan Burdolski, Director of Stewardship

For many of us, the four candles on our Advent wreath symbolize hope, faith, joy & peace. Over the next four weeks, I plan to reflect on these themes while sharing my personal journey with you this Advent season. I am naturally an optimist so hope is part of my being. This year, we are navigating the end of my father’s life. Even so, I remain filled with hope.

My father is no spring chicken. He is 96 years old and my sister & I have already grieved for him as he endured quintuple bypass surgery, a re-section of his cancerous colon and several bouts of pneumonia that many his age would not survive. We have believed his life was nearing the end on more than one occasion, yet he is still alive. Four years ago, before our mother’s death, he told us quite frankly that “we need to face the likelihood that I will outlive your mom.” She was eleven years younger so we had always expected him to go first; yet, exactly two weeks later, my mom passed away.

A few months ago, my dad went on hospice . . . for the second time. In the summer of 2019, he “graduated” from hospice because his health improved too much to qualify. His hospice journey began again after his second hospitalization for pneumonia (non-Covid) this calendar year in August. The decision to begin hospice again was made, in consultation with my father’s doctor, because we wanted to keep him out of the hospital since he has an advanced directive that requests no extraordinary efforts should be made to prolong his life.

Only one week ago, the hospice doctor surprised us by requesting that we “sign dad out of hospice and admit him to the hospital” for an infection in his foot & leg that had not responded to two rounds of oral antibiotics and would likely become septic. I was surprised because he’s a hospice patient. Yet, after discussing with my sister, even though we were confused and later questioned our decision, we agreed. Soon, a fire truck and ambulance, complete with lights, sirens and five firefighters/EMTs arrived for my dad’s “non-emergency transport to the hospital.” It seemed a bit extreme to me and I told them so in my non-indoor voice – those who know me well know that I don’t have an indoor voice – from my dad’s front porch when they arrived.

After over 24 hours in the ER (along with several other patients for whom the hospital did not have beds), we learned that the infection was in his bones. On Wednesday morning, my sister requested that my dad be brought home from the hospital and returned to hospice care. Because they are not going to amputate on a 96-year-old in poor health and the hospital had an obvious bed shortage, we wanted to get him home. She expected a fight, but instead heard from both a social worker & a doctor, within a few hours, that we were making the right decision. They were releasing dad back to hospice and would be arranging a medical transport to the house. The doctor, who had treated my dad during his hospital stay with pneumonia back during the 2020 Super Bowl, said that he “would’ve never thought back in January that he would still be alive at Thanksgiving” so even though this bone infection will eventually take his life, he wouldn’t be surprised if we have another month or two with him.

I know that my sister & I surprise people because we’re not constantly sad or upset at the thought of losing our father. That’s because the dad we grew up with has been gone for years. Our dad was always physically active and busy. His body gave out on him over a decade ago and he’s been unable to do so many of the things he loved. More recently, even his personality has become different – he’s more stubborn and curmudgeonly than we would have ever expected in our younger days when he was always laid-back, quiet and sweet. He’s been done, so to speak, for quite a while.

For now, Dad is back home and doing quite well considering the circumstances. And, even though I know my dad is dying, I’m filled with hope. Hope for his new life in heaven with my mom, his siblings and so many others who have already left this earth. Hope for my sister’s return to full-time employment with her employer after many months of working part-time to have more time to devote to my father’s care. Hope for a return to at least some of the normalcy that we’ve lost amidst the pandemic.

While my Christmas wish for my father would be that he spend Christmas, and better yet their anniversary on December 26, with my mother in heaven, I know that my dad is from hearty stock and he just might be with us to welcome 2021 or even to watch the next presidential inauguration.

In the meantime, I’ll be working virtually from the office in his home for much of the next few weeks as my sister agreed to terms this morning to return to working full-time. I am grateful that I am able to be here and spend some my dad’s last days with him. It’s the least I can do for my father who was so influential in forming my faith and for my sister who put her life on hold to be his primary caregiver. They both deserve whatever I can do to make their lives easier in the weeks to come.

So I’m here, in my father’s house, with a smile on my face, filled with hope for what is yet to come. It is my wish that you, too, can find hope amidst whatever is going on in your own life this Advent.

Comments

  1. Megan, I'm so glad you're able to spend this time with your dad. You'll be in my prayers for peace during the difficult times with him. Thanks for sharing with us.

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