My dad had health problems for years. He was always in and out of the hospital. He actually had covid 19 and recovered. He went into the hospital, after he recovered from covid 19. He was having leg pain. He was sent to a rehab facility. He spent over a month there before we found out where he was transfered. No one knew anything other than he had been admitted by the VA, then moved. It took many phone calls and time to find him. After which we were informed that he was doing well. He didn't sound well, he sounded drugged, every time we called. After being in hospital for 2 months, his insurance ran out and they sent him home. Unfortunately, when we picked him up we had seen that he was not the once energetic, lively, independent man he had been. Before hospital he was walking, taking, driving, completely independent. After, he was a shriveled old man, having lost about 60lbs. He couldn't walk without a lot of assistance. My husband and I decided that he needed to stay with us. We focused on getting him better and back to his old self. He often asked, when will I be walking again? His energy and strength slowly ebbed away. After the 2nd week, he couldn't walk, sit up, or even feed himself. Hospice brought him a bed, oxygen and other equipment. By the middle of the 3rd week, he became basically comatose. No more anything save for a hand squeeze or eyebrow raise. He couldn't even open his eyes. We were given an "end of life comfort kit". It all happened so quickly. We were able to celebrate his birthday with him, it was one of his very last good days. He died exactly a week after his birthday and 3 weeks after we brought him home. It's still very unreal. I know, I was there, but I can't quite grasp it. His funeral service is tomorrow, he's been gone for 2 weeks now. The very first night I felt a lot of guilt, like I didn't do enough, and why couldn't I help him get better. I think that's just my grief. He had visits from a hospice nurse. He was relatively young, 66. We know that he had liver failure, he had, had cirrhosis for years. I guess his body just couldn't come back from it this time. πŸ˜”

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Am so sorry dear. I feel your pain. I grieve with you. I lost my mom to Sepsis. I don't know how to live without her.

I hear you. Everything reminds me of him.

Am so sorry dear. I feel your pain. I grieve with you. I lost my mom to Sepsis. I don't know how to live without her.
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I'm sorry for your loss πŸ˜”

I'm so very, very sorry for your loss. I feel your pain. I miss my dad so much. Your dad knew, I am sure, that you loved him, and that is what matters most. God bless you and your family.

I am so sorry. I also lost my father, my hero, and mentor July 12th. The pain and grief I felt for several weeks was so great. I found comfort in remembering all the good memories and times we had in the past. A day doesn't pass when I think about him. I know it will likely be the same. I pray you will find comfort in the memories you had with him, knowing there is no longer pain he must endure.


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