Adam’s World Weekly 3/23

At around noon this past Friday I was on my way to visit my father in the hospital when my cell phone rang. The hospital’s name came up on the caller ID, and I figured with how well he’d been doing this was the call to let me know they were preparing him for discharge back to rehab. I’d later learn they actually were in the process of doing this, but that was not what this call was about.

Instead it was a nurse informing me that my father had gone into cardiac arrest. My dad had a DNR (do not resuscitate) on file, but I’d previously made note that there were times when it could be overridden, so the nurse wanted to know what to do.

On the highway, and only five minutes from the hospital, I said – if you can keep him breathing, do it.

At that moment I knew it was the end, but I wanted the chance to say goodbye. I didn’t get that chance when my mother passed in May, and it would be crushing if I was THAT close to the hospital, and didn’t get the chance with my dad.

I texted my case worker (who has become a close friend) when I reached the stoplight at the end of the exit. He knew what was going on, and said he’d meet me in the lobby.

I really thought him meeting me in the lobby meant that my dad was already gone, but it was actually just so we could skip security.

We got in the elevator, reached the ninth floor, and there were more people outside my dad’s room, and tending to my dad, than I could count. People started saying, “Son’s here.” The doctor looked up at me. I said, “He’s gone, isn’t he?” Surprisingly, he said, “No, we brought him back.”

I looked at my dad. Something was off. His body was there, but something wasn’t right. I said, “OK, let’s talk brain function, because that’s all that matters to me.”

We went to a different room, and the doctor laid it all out – the brain is never the same after a cardiac arrest, and with the challenges my dad already faced from the car accident in May, there was basically no chance of a good recovery.

I’ve had my dad’s marching orders for quite some time – he never wanted to live on machines.

I was told they could clean him up, make him comfortable, and I could be by his side as he passed.

I thanked the doctor for giving me the chance to say goodbye.

They moved my dad one floor down, gave him some serious painkillers, disconnected the ventilator, and for a little over an hour I held his hand, told him it was OK, that I could handle things, that he fought like a warrior, and that mom was waiting for him.

At 1:30pm he took his last breath.

I asked my case worker, who stayed with me the entire time, if we could go back to the ninth floor so I could thank everyone for the care they’d given my dad.

We made our way there, I received hugs, and handshakes, and there were many tears, as the nurses, and staff had grown close to us.

I am deeply saddened to have lost both my parents in the span of less than ten months.

I am also, however, grateful to have been raised by two truly amazing people, who were always my biggest fans, and I will continue to live in a way that would make them proud.

I am also grateful for the community around me, that has given me incredible support throughout all of this.

One of the biggest overarching themes of my family was music. I was raised on my parents’ record collection from the time I was a baby, and both my parents loved that I ultimately chose a career as a music journalist. Heck, they were the first subscribers to this newsletter!

So while my dad won’t get the chance to read this week’s articles, I know the first response to this email would’ve been him, complimenting my Dramarama interview, and starting a conversation about their music.

I could count on those emails every Monday morning, and they were the perfect way to start my week.

Read the full interview here

Read the full column here

Read the full column here

As always, thanks for reading. I appreciate it.

– Adam Bernard