Missing one of his girls

I was downloading photos today on my computer and ran across this photo.  It was when Vic and I went out to see dad at UCSF 2 months before he died.  This was the last time Vicki saw him.  I am so glad we remembered to take a picture. 
Wish Wendy could have been there.

-Nan

The Making Of A Mechanic

Dear Family,

Jenny has asked that we write some remembrances of Denny that the family might enjoy reading.

I have a few memories you may not know about.

THE BEGINNING OF THE CREATION OF A MECHANIC

As you all know, Denny was born on December 3, 1949. What you may not know is that he was a very sick little boy. He looked absolutely terrible.  He was so sick that he very seldom slept, but cried most of the time. After caring for him all day, and by the time I got home from work, Nana was exhausted. I would take over to let her get some rest until bedtime; then we would take turns watching him during the night as he had trouble breathing. This went on for a couple of months, until Nana and I were both so tired that we were afraid we would fall asleep and Denny would quit breathing.  Even though we had no money,( I was only making a little over $1.00 an hour then), we decided we needed to hire a nurse to watch him; at least for one night. We did that. The next morning the nurse said, “It’s a good thing I was here. Denny stopped breathing and started to turn blue. I picked him up and got him breathing again. Your little boy is very sick. I know a doctor that may be able to help him.”  We took the doctor’s name and made an appointment for him to see Denny.  After he examined Denny, he said he thought Denny may have asthma.  As I remember, he made up some kind of medicine, or, maybe it was pharmacy made. I’m not sure.  Anyway, we began giving it to Denny immediately. It was only a few days until he began breathing better and sleeping a little.  Within a few months Denny was putting on weight and sitting up playing with his toys by the hour. By the time he was six months old he was the healthiest and cutest little boy you ever saw. Apparently the medicine the doctor had given him had given his body the ability to overcome the asthma and he was never troubled with it again. We were forever grateful to both the nurse and the doctor.

It was 1954. We had just moved into our first home a few months before, in 1953. Denny was three. I don’t remember how or where we got it, but we got a little tricycle for Denny. He loved it. He rode it all the time, and as fast as he could go. He rode it like the devil was after him. He rode it so hard that one day he bent the left rear wheel so bad he couldn’t ride it anymore. Several times he asked me to fix it but it seems that I didn’t get around to it as soon as he thought I ought to. One day when I came home, there he was riding his trike, going like the wind, likity split, all over the yard. Somewhere he had gotten some kind of tool and taken the broken wheel off the trike.  He then would tip the trike over to the right side on two wheels and ride it like a bicycle. The beginning of “THE MECHANIC”.

                                                               

PAPA

I saw him

I was particularly tired this afternoon and when I laid down to sleep I was out like a light.

I dreamt that Dad walked in my house.  He was at the top of the stairs and paused.  I could not contain my happy to see him, and ran over and hugged him around his chest.  I grabbed him tight like I had no intention of letting go anytime soon.  

He just looked down sort of pleased and amused and said, "What's up, Wen?"  He seemed to not know the reason for my gladness and all I could say was "I am just SO happy to see you!"  I released him and let him continue on his way, which turned out to be the couch to kick up his feet.  I followed and sat on the arm of the couch, next to his feet.  I said, "I don't know how you're here, and how you seem to be so normal and fine."  He was genuinely puzzled which quickly turned to concern when I told him that he died a couple weeks ago.  Then recognition came over his face and he looked a little ill.  I asked him if he was ok and he didn't really answer.  I asked if he remembered dying and he nodded that he did.  All he said was, "Can you tell Mom that I could really use a drink?"  Mom was very busy in my kitchen, but I came in and told her, then said that I'd get it.  I got distracted and then remembered what I was doing.  I wondered why he hadn't asked again and whether he might be mad at my taking so long.  That was the end.

When I dream of my Tommy cat, I wake up feeling like I really, truly got to see her and pet her.  My brain won't quite let me have that with my dad dream, but I'm really glad for it just the same.

-Wendy (Biscuit)

Punch for Uncle Denny

I've been enjoying reading the stories and memories that have been shared.  I've been trying to form the words to write one myself and then I keep talking myself out of sharing, thinking MY memories wouldn't mean anything to anyone else.  After reading what Wendy had to say tonight I decided to just share and let everyone decide for themself whether it was worth reading.  So here it goes...
 
I spent much of my life being afraid of Uncle Denny.  As a child I believed he really would shoot my dog, and as a teenager I was sure he was looking for me to do something wrong so he could get me in trouble with my Mom.  I observed the relationship my sister Candy had with Uncle Denny and wondered how it worked.  They truly enjoyed each other.  She never seemed afraid of him.  I think if we had the same experiences with him she would probably have not taken him so seriously, and I'm sure he knew that, maybe that was the ticket.
 
Several years ago my husband and I invited Uncle Denny over for Thanksgiving.  I was probably surprised at first that he showed up.  During dinner he asked who made the hot holiday punch, I had, he asked for another cup.  After dinner I offered to make a plate for the next day and he declined asking only if he could have the punch, ALL of it.  He told me that it reminded him of the punch his Mom would make.  I was so pleased by this.  I remember Nana and Mom making a hot holiday punch when I was a kid, I don't have the recipe for it though.  I came across a recipe that seemed similar so I used it as a base and added some things I remember Nana using.  It was so cool that we share this nice memory of Nana.  Uncle Denny told me that if I ever wanted to make his day I should just show up with two 5 gallon buckets of the punch sloshing around.  Every time I made the punch after that I would make a double batch and take it to him.  Once he wasn't home so I left it on the porch without a note or anything, he called while drinking the first glass.  He shared it with NOBODY!  Sometimes he would dilute it with diet lemon-lime soda to make it last longer.  It was meant to be served hot in a mug, but if you saw it in the fridge the brownish color would probably discourage you from drinking it but he smiled when he saw that I had marked the container "Poison" just to be sure.  I know I'll think about him every time I make that punch for the rest of my life.
-Kimmie        
 
 
 
 

Playing with Fire

So, Denny’s antics with fire started long, long ago I’ve been told.  There is some story of a fire in the tree house when they lived in Northridge.  Denny always hated when anyone told that story, unless it was him.  I will leave the details of that episode to Keith or Karen, I’m fuzzy on the details – think he tried to blame it on a crystal radio…

 

Always on the edge of danger, the first memorable encounter I had with his pyro tendencies was when we lived in the house on Alexo in Lancaster.  It happened sometime between when Wendy was born and when I was pregnant with Craig, since my maternity clothes stored in the rafters of the garage were a casualty of the following incident. 

 

When Denny changed the oil, washed or cleaned parts, etc, he stored the old used gas and oil and any other petroleum products in empty gallon antifreeze jugs.  One day he had a very full one on the workbench and decided to find out what would happen if he put a match to it.  (Yeah, I know, bright idea, huh?)  Well, it made a nice little flame at the top of the jug, kinda like a lantern…until…he accidently knocked it over!  Then as fire is wont to do, it followed the gas/oil trail everywhere it ran.  In the ensuing chaos, I am not sure how it got put out, but it managed to light up well enough to damage the boxes stored in the rafters.  That was a pretty good blaze, as you might imagine.  Luckily, it didn’t burn down the house, or anything too valuable!  The fire department was called at some point and the boxes had smoke and water damage.  Our house insurance paid something for the damaged stuff – my first encounter with replacement cost versus prorated value clauses in insurance policies.  Luckily the structure itself was mostly undamaged.  Denny’s pride wasn’t so lucky.

 

Of course, his love of fire didn’t end, it probably just became a bigger challenge!  The kids will all remember him making paper airplanes, dousing them with lighter fluid, setting them on fire and flying them off the back deck of the Beechwood house.  Somehow, that never ended in disaster!  (Well, unless you count the incident when the kids did it when we weren’t home…but that’s another story.)  Paradise being the tinder box of dry leaves and pine needles covering the most roofs, and a lot of the landscape, fire was a particularly exciting event. 

 

Another favorite fire trick was to get a blazing fire going in the fireplace in the living room (especially at Christmas with lots of wrapping paper that made a high fire).  I think it started with somehow going outside and seeing the bits of glowing paper floating out of the chimney that inspired him to take a full sheet of newspaper opened full out and lay it in the fireplace on top of the blaze to see what would happen.  Well, it was pretty cool, as all will attest, to run outside and watch the entire sheet, intact, float out of the chimney still on fire until it glowed and then went out and landed somewhere.  How it never landed on Harvey’s roof, which had an abundance of pine needles, or ours, or anywhere else that would light up in an instant, I’ll never know!  I do know that was about the final straw for one of our neighbors, who after one such experiment was pretty upset watching the flying fire from his house, and really reprimanded us for the dangerous behavior.  Rightly so, I suppose.  But it sure was fun!  Also, somehow, our chimney was old enough, or had been altered in some way and it didn’t have a spark arrestor, or anything to prevent the huge papers from exiting intact!  Design flaw – so really, it wasn’t Denny’s fault the paper flew out on fire! 

 

I am sure there are more fire stories – they don’t come to mind right now – anyone who remembers, just jump right in here.  I do know the love of fire was in some way passed down to Chris – if you haven’t experienced one of his outrageous bonfires yet, you’ve really missed something.  They would make his dad proud!

 

Story by Jeri Tovey – who lived through it to tell the tales.

Where have all the stories gone?

I am feeling a little down since I just heard my neighbor lost her mother the same week we lost Dad.  Cancer, of course.  She was diagnosed 3 days before she died.  Being so sad for her is making me need to hear more stories about Dad.  Nobody is posting, and I'm checking several times every day!  Come on folks, let's hear 'em. . .

-Wendy

Guess For The Money!

My siblings all know this story well, it was one of our favorite games that dad played.

Every once in a while dad would come home from work and ask us if we wanted to guess how much money he had in his pockets. If we got it correct, we could keep it! All of it! And sometimes, he had a LOT of cash in his pockets. I'm not sure who the biggest winner ever was, but I seem to recall someone getting around $148. That's nothing since sometimes he had well over $1,000 on him! And I know if we guessed it, he would have given it to us. He would have thrown up at the same time, but he was always a man true to his word, and he would have handed it over. He was good like that.

Anyway, one day he comes home and asks us if we want to play guess for the money. I think he must have had a lot on him that day and was nervous he might lose it, so he switched it up a bit. He started with Chris and said, "Guess how much money I have in my pocket and I'll give you $40." He went on down the line and said this exact thing to each and every one of us. Every time he said this, I grinned a little bigger. He stopped at one point when I was bouncing in my seat, looked at me nervously, and asked me what I was so happy about. I said, nothing, I just like this game! He gave me a bit of a distrusting look, then went on about his business.

After he asked Vicki, the last of the group to guess (to which she always replied $5 and actually guessed right once or twice!), he said that none of us guessed it. I calmly stuck out my hand, and said, "I want my $40." He said, "but you didn't guess it correctly" to which I replied, "You didn't say we had to get it right, you just said that if we guessed how much you had, you would give us $40. We all guessed, we all get $40." At this point my siblings were freaking out, agreeing with me that yes, that is what you said, and you said the exact same statement to all of us! Dad looked utterly dumbfounded, his jaw dropped, he looked at my mom who said, "that is what you said." He shook his head, and handed us all $40 each.

Sadly, that was pretty much the end of Guess The Money! I think he was too scared to say something incorrectly and have to hand out a ton of cash!

- Jen

So sorry about your dad

I just heard about the loss of one of the best people of the world. I will truly miss him. i met Denny (THE BUBBA DEAN,, DEAN OF ALL BUBBAS) when he had his shop next to Red Lion pizza many days i use to bring my little hot rod truck to his shop to work on it and he would say to me "just give me a hand getting some of these cars done and you can get in" well 10 hours later in the dark and a ham cheese and pineapple sandwich later we would leave and i got nothing done but we had a great time doing it and figured we would try again tomorrow.I will miss his sarcastic jabs and great times we had. Now i live in Massachusetts and didn't get to talk to Denny as much as I liked to nut he is and always be the best. Rick Rutherford

My dad was MacGyver

It was time to get my '66 Mustang out of the Utah winters and home to CA to sell.  Dad flew out to drive me back, since it was a sizable drive in November.  (Also there were no seatbelts in those old cars and my defrost was being weird so I had this nonstop fog on the inside of the windshield.)  We got on our way and the weather was pretty bad.  Whoever wasn't driving would wipe the windshield and fiddle with the heat controls.  A few hours into the drive it was apparent that the heater wasn't working at all anymore and the little draft that didn't seem so bad at first was freezing us out.  I was as cold as I'd ever been and Dad told me something about losing toes and fingers in that kind of cold, so we exited as soon as we could and found an auto parts store.  I'm not sure exactly how he did it, but with a piece of hose he rerouted some hot water from the engine.  It may have taken him 20 minutes, and what we had was a coil of burning hot hose at the passenger's feet.  I kicked off my shoes and put my socked feet on top of that hose with a blanket over me and it, to trap in the heat.  Woo!  What sweet relief!  We took turns being the freezing driver and being the toasty passenger.  I have always been so impressed with that.  He was very cool that way.  And MAN, was I so glad that my dad was there with me on that drive!!

-Wendy (aka Biscuit)

This Phase Is The Worst

I've been dreaming about my Dad a lot lately. I'll be at the house on Beechwood and he'll drive home or walk by me in the hall. I'll remember that it's not really him (in my dream), that i'm seeing his spirit, but I don't care cause i still get see him and talk to him. I've also been to several funerals in my dreams as well. It's tempting to call these dreams nightmares or painful, but they're not. I'm glad to relive anything that reminds me of him.

I started researching and learning as much as I can about Ford V8 engines, at first out of necessity since Doug and I will be left to build the engine for his '66 Fairlane. But the more i read and learned, the more I felt connected to my Dad... but now I'm just kicking myself for not taking more of an interest in mechanic specifics. But necessity is a greater teacher than curiosity. I didn't think I'd have to learn anything. I figured Dad would be around forever.

It's slowly, slowly sinking in just what has happened. But more than anything I'm still in disbelief that he's gone. I'm gonna have a hell of a time switching from the present tense when I talk about him. Dammit... I miss him like crazy. i didn't know it would be like this.

-Craig

Kid #5

I am trying to find ways to cope with a life without my dad.  I decided (at least for now) to do things that he loved.  I'll eat some orange cinnamon rolls out of a can, go to a classic car show, wear tweety bird socks and have a steak and potatoes dinner.  My dad sure did love alot!

Harder Than I Thought

I think some of my siblings and I are a bit shocked at how less-than-stellar we are dealing with the loss of our dad. I thought it would be easier after the funeral and it would only get better, but it's gotten worse! Apparently, this is normal. Most people we talk to tell us that it takes about 3 months to stop feeling the tightening in your chest and for the leaky eyes to slow down a bit. 

3 months? Are you kidding me? This blows. Some days are good, others are awful and I can't stop feeling anxious, depressed, tired, angry, etc. I have yet to sleep a full night in the last month.

I went to the cemetery the other evening for a visit. That was depressing. Standing next to a large patch of dead grass with flowers marking where he lies. Not how I should be visiting my dad. I couldn't stop thinking that this isn't right, this is not what was supposed to happen, someone made a mistake! He's not supposed to be HERE! I'm not supposed to be here "visiting" him! 

Who do I call to complain? Who's in charge of this process anyway? I'd like a return please. You can't do that? I want to speak with your manager! I am not leaving here without my dad! Call the cops, then. I don't care. I'll make a scene, I swear I will! You'll wish you never messed with a Tovey! You think my dad was bad, you just wait until my brother Doug hears about your refusal to return my dad, you'll regret it! Okay, fine, I'll go. I understand, some things just can't be done. But, please at least tell me this - Is he happy? Did he get met by a lot of friends and family? Is the pain gone? Does he miss us?

I'm sure dad will be the best tour guide in heaven when we get there. I wonder if that's why he went so long before us. He really wants to master things up there so he can show us the ropes. He'll have some of the best new stories, and he'll have tons of people he'll want us to meet! 

Until then, I'll just hold on to the memories I have of him here with us. There's a bunch. And there's a lot of great stories left to tell.

Patricia Neville

To the Tovey family, I remember Denny buying tires for my van and doing a brake job on it on the day Andy died. It was a complete surprise to me, when all I had asked was for him to finish the brakes as we didn't have the time. On the day o...f the funeral, we found out that no one had asked your dad to do the eulogy for us. But he was okay with doing it at the last minute. And he did a wonderful job. Whenever it was just me and the kids coming to visit family in Paradise, I would stop by the shop and just visit with your dad. We lost touch in the last few years for which I am sorry. Your dad will be greatly missed. Love, Trish Neville.

Share A Story!!!!

If you want to share a story about Dad, you can send an email to jen1202.shareastory@blogger.com and it will show up here as a post! I just did it with this post! Tell your friends! I'd love to hear stories about him that I haven't heard or might have just forgotten. I'm not ready to let him go just yet. I need some memories to wrap myself up in for a little while longer....

Thanks!
Jen

What To Do Now????

I want to say Thank You to all of you who cared about my dad. Our family will be forever grateful for everything that you've done for him - the rides to UCSF and back, the phone calls, the visits, the food, the prayers, the thoughts, walking with him up and down the hallways at the Hospice House, treating him like the strong, independent man that he was and not the sickly, weak, incommunicative shell that you saw in his last days, your attendance at his funeral and all the kind words and hugs you gave us.

It was wonderful to see everyone and to hear the great stories about him. I wish we could have heard more and spent more time with all of you. I like to remember those things about him. He was such a character!

I have spent so much time on this update blog that I'm not quite sure what to do now. I'm not really ready to give it up. Weird, huh? Are you ready to stop checking it? Not yet? Well, I'm going to leave it here for awhile and see how I feel about it. I might post once in a while, so don't give up on me just yet!

Thanks again for joining us on this crazy, emotional ride. We enjoyed your company!

Jen and the entire Tovey Family.

Funeral Information

Funeral will be held for Denny Tovey this Monday, April 11th at 1:00 p.m. in the LDS Church on Buschman Road in Paradise, CA.

There will be a viewing from 12:00 - 1:00 p.m. for family and close friends only.

Short graveside service following the funeral at Paradise Cemetery.

Goodbye, Dad. You Will Be Missed

Dad passed away today at 4:40 p.m. surrounded by friends and family. Thank you to everyone who came by in the past couple of days to say goodbye. It meant a lot to our family to have you there and to know how much he is loved and by so many.

We are planning the funeral and burial for this coming Monday, April 11. The time is yet to be determined.

Thursday, April 7, 2011

Talked to Craig this morning, he said they finally decided to give dad some Ativan last night since he was restless and waking up with every little sound. They had to give it to him in a liquid form which makes me think he's incapable of swallowing pills at this point. He said dad finally settled down and was sleeping soundly.

The nursing staff at the PHH have been, for the most part, fabulous. They are very nice, and very accommodating to all the visitors and family. Every night they offer up the Quiet Room (a small living room type area) to Becky, Craig and Doug so that they can take turns sleeping. Becky said they even make food for the family if anyone is hungry and not wanting to leave. 

That being said, Craig was not very happy with the nurse on staff last night. Not only did she refuse to let them use the quiet room so she could do her paperwork in there (there are at least 4 other desks/tables/rooms), but she was not very gentle or even very polite, was rougher with dad than she needed to be and quite condescending to Craig. He said when she would deal with dad she was a bit too forceful and he was obviously very agitated and upset at her movements. Craig had to continually stop her and ask her to be more gentle and patient with him. 

We have all been treating dad with the respect and dignity that he deserves. He is still a human being and is still capable of having emotions even though he can't voice them at this point. We don't treat him like a child, make him do anything he doesn't want to do, and we talk to him the same as we always have. We are willing to let him go when he's ready, but we are not going to try to hurry up the process by drugging him and refusing to let him get out of bed. 

The nurse last night was not one of the normal nursing staff and won't be back, but Craig was going to speak to the nursing manager to let her know of his disapproval of her actions. After writing this, I want to find her and kick her ass. 

If you are one of the lucky ones who are able to visit with dad, please don't let anything like this happen again. Feel free to step in and stop them from treating him with anything other than soft hands and soft voices.

UDPATE:
Got a call from Craig at noon saying that the Dr. was in to see dad and said that it was time for the family to come to say goodbye. I arrived there in short order to join the boys and Becky at dad's side. He had not been conscious since earlier in the morning and couldn't be woken up by Becky or the Dr. They checked his pulse and it was slowing and his breathing was getting shallower. We sat with him, said our goodbye's and met with dozens of his friends who heard the news and came to see him one last time.

At around 4:40 p.m., Craig and Doug heard him take a deep breath, squeeze his eyes shut, exhale, and relax. That was it. His heart stopped seconds later and he was gone.

About an hour later we noticed that his face had relaxed quite a bit, he looked more at peace, and his mouth had closed and was turned up in the corners into a little smile. He looked better than he had in awhile and it was very comforting to finally see him looking so peaceful.

Wednesday, April 6, 2011

Saw dad for a couple of hours this morning with my 3 kids. He was very tired but still managed to walk all the way around the building with Becky. He didn't talk at all and every time he would sit down he would fall asleep. Every time he would wake up, he'd try to stand but most of the time didn't have the energy for it.

Becky said he had lots of visitors today but didn't interact with them much at all. Not sure if he's recognizing people anymore. Could be that he's just having an off day and tomorrow will be better.

We might try to get him to take some Ativan tonight to help him stay in bed and get some rest. Craig and Doug will make that decision.

Tuesday, April 5, 2011

Saw dad for only a couple of minutes today. He was quite alert this morning, talked to Wendy a bit on the phone and was somewhat clear and understandable. He spent most of the day sleeping with intermittent jaunts down the hallway with his ever-changing footmen at his side. He's had lots of visitors and it's been great to see how much everyone cares.

They have decided to try to drop his dilaudid from 2mg every hour to 1.5mg. Hopefully that will help to perk him up a little bit. 

It seems he's been trying to tell us something and ask us questions, but he either forgets the thought before he gets it all out or it comes out jumbled up. We're pretty sure he's trying make sure that we're o.k. He seems really worried about us. He gives us lots of hugs and kisses when we leave or when he sees that we're really upset. He gets a sad, worried look on his face and it seems to confuse him a bit. It's actually quite sweet - him, comforting us.

Dad with me and Owen

Monday, April 4, 2011

Saw dad this afternoon. He's doing good. Voice is stronger, but he doesn't say a lot that makes sense. He's still restless and wants to walk a lot but the nurses really want him to lay down with his feet up since his legs and feet are so swollen. They were going to give him half a dose of Ativan to try to get him to stay put for a little while.

He is aware of his visitors and recognizes them. When they leave he seems a bit bummed and calls them back to say something but forgets what it is when they come back. 

He held Owen (4 mos.) today and seemed to really enjoy holding him and snuggled with him and kissed his head a lot. It was very sweet. I'm hoping to bring Bryce and Lucy up tonight or tomorrow to get a picture with him too.

Sunday, April 3, 2011

Becky said dad is feeling much better today. More mobile, and can talk a bit more. At least they are able to understand some of what he says and it makes sense too.

I went to visit him this afternoon but after doing hot laps down the hall with John Curtis, he was spent and was snoozing when I got there. I had to leave to retrieve my screaming baby so I didn't get to see for myself how he was doing.

Craig and Doug are on their way now, and I'll be up there to meet them shortly. I'll update when I can.

UPDATE:
I went back up to see dad tonight and was very surprised to see him walking well and moving all around the room and hallways. He had been doing more laps with Mike and Pizza Greg and I thought he would have been tired, but he was still wanting to be on the move. When Craig and Doug got there they took over and he didn't stop until about 9 p.m.


At one point, he was outside and he grabbed onto Doug and I and just started walking fast. I joked that he was trying to escape, but I think that actually might have been true! He checked out every area, would stop when he realized he couldn't go any farther, then turn around and go somewhere else. Finally it got dark and cold and Mike brought out the wheelchair and we got dad to sit down and brought him back inside.


I left as they were getting him ready to settle down and go to bed. Craig and Doug were going to stay with him and Becky was going to head home for the night to get some sleep. I hope he rests well, he really needs it after all the exercise he got today!

Saturday, April 2, 2011

I went to see dad today at PHH. When I walked in, I was not at all prepared for what I saw. Dad was sitting in a wheelchair, VERY swollen with edema, with his head hanging, mouth open, and fast asleep. I talked with Becky for a minute before I sat next to him and rubbed his back gently. He woke up, looked at me, and looked a bit surprised to see me. He did this same thing a handful of times before he got used to seeing me there.

He is very shaky, can't stand on his own, and can't talk except for a gravelly whisper that is very hard to understand. A nurse came in to give me an update on his meds and said that they have been giving him Ativan since he's been so restless and is a danger to himself as he's a fall risk and could pull out his IV. I asked them to please stop giving that to him for now until Doug comes out to see him tomorrow. It makes him seem much worse than he really is.

But, I talked to the nurse and she said, "this is what happens at the end". I asked her how much time she thought he had left, and she said, "days". 

I had only been there for about 10 minutes, but I had to leave. I gave him lots of kisses and hugs, and he wanted to stand. He wrapped his arms around me as best he could and gave me a hug and a kiss on the cheek. I told  him I loved him and he told me he loved me. He then gave me a little head bonk, and that's when I really lost it. I gave Becky a hug and barely made it to the parking lot before the sound of the puppy whimpering in my throat made it to my lips in a full blown sob.

I'm not sure why I'm telling you all this, but I felt like I needed to write it down before I forget it.

I imagine most of his problems are from his declining blood counts. He hasn't had blood or platelets since leaving UCSF and I'm sure that's why his voice is gone and he's so weak. He's also very pale. If your blood carries oxygen to your brain and organs, then what happens when you don't have enough cells to carry that oxygen???

Leukemia sucks. Cancer sucks. Losing your dad SUCKS.

Friday, April 1, 2011

They are getting ready to load up and leave UCSF shortly. Becky will be going with dad in the ambulance. They estimate that he will arrive in Paradise at the Hospice House around 1 p.m. Becky said they are ready and waiting for him.

Kimmie visited the PHH last night and said that it's very nice and home-like. Each room as a patio and walkway out to the yard. She said there is currently only one other patient there, so dad will get plenty of attention and care.

UPDATE: 
Talked to Becky this afternoon. She said they were there and dad was getting settled in. She said he was really tired, but the room and the facility is wonderful and it should be quite nice. I'll be heading up in the morning to see him and I'll let you know how it goes.