Rich Flowers
The Athens Review
Athens —
Dad has never been big on Father’s Day presents. For the last few years, he’d always announce a couple of weeks before the date that my sister Sharon and I should save our money.
“I don’t need anything. I never go anywhere anymore,” he’d say.
Until recently, you could almost always find him in the house in Mesquite he bought back in the 60s, that he shares with my mother and sister.
Dad has had difficulty walking in recent years, a condition brought about by a work injury.
That slowed down the trips he’d make to my place in Poynor where he used to plant a garden, or to his piece of land in Tool where he would climb up on his tractor, and plow a little.
More and more, his days were spent in his room, watching television at maximum volume to compensate for his loss of hearing. He likes old westerns, certain preachers and Dallas Cowboy games.
“They can play so sorry,” he’d comment.
Because he ventured out less often, my sister and I more and more limited our gifts to things like movies and books. He loved “The Trail is Never Cold,” the story of the old Henderson County Sheriff Jess Sweeten, and a book I got him back in April, for his birthday about Bonnie and Clyde.
“It was like a comedy,” he said. “Clyde would do one stupid thing after another.”
A couple of months ago, he started cleaning out his room, cluttered with books, old VHS tapes and newspapers that he’d accumulated through the years.
“Here’s a book you bought me. I can’t read it anymore. The print is still small. Do you want it?”
I rarely went to visit him that I didn’t leave with an armful of things he could no longer use — or maybe a newspaper article he’d cut out. It was clear he was thinking he might not be around much longer.
“I’m ready to go,” he said. “I know I’m going to heaven.”
In his mid 80s, he’d grow tired of not being able to hear, walk or eat like he had before. He worried that he couldn’t keep the house repaired, or work on the cars like he used to.
About that time, he developed a cough he couldn’t shake, and had trouble catching his breath. He lost interest in eating, drinking, watching television or even reading the newspaper — unusual because he’d kept up to date on current events. Mostly he slept.
Finally, he consented to allow paramedics to come and take him to the hospital.
When I got to the hospital the following day, he was in the intensive care unit. Machines were taking care of the breathing and feeding. He was sedated so he wouldn’t fight against the machines. The nurses said he was extremely weak, and the rest was good for him.
By last weekend, about two weeks after checking in, dad had begun to rally a bit. He would try to speak, and occasionally we’d understand a word or two. My wife would lean down and whisper something in his ear, and he’d answer. Without his hearing aid, he can’t really understand me though.
So, Father’s Day presents have been placed on hold. For now, we’re watching his progress. The nurses say they’re taking baby steps with him — he’s too tired and weak to rush his recovery.
We’re watching for signs of progress. For small miracles. Maybe in a while, he’ll get out of ICU, and into a regular room.
Perhaps on down the road, he’ll get to go home, but I’m not sure that’s the trip he was planning on.
Rich Flowers is News Editor of the Athens Daily Review.
