Belated Anniversary of My Dad's Passing
One of my blogs is a tribute to my Dad. Last week included the fifth anniversary of my Dad's passing. He died at a San Antonio military hospital less than 2 hours after my arrival from an early morning flight from Pittsburgh (about an hour drive from where I lived in WV) and I think connection from North Carolina and Dallas. The other siblings had already arrives (technically, my youngest sister wasn't there but she had just left after Dad had been discharged from the hospital). The only "positive" thing about this experience is I did get to say goodbye (he couldn't talk because he was breathing with tubes down his throat, but he was aware. I saw his eyes track me around his bed. I was somewhat disoriented at the end when they removed his tubes, etc.; because I didn't think he was strong enough to breathe on his own, and in fact, I was right as he quickly passed thereafter. I think that decision was made before my arrival.It shouldn't have happened. My Dad has always had back issues from his years back as a USAF jet mechanic, working in tight places. He had had a prior, successful back operation around 2000, but his back had been killing him by 2012 again. It had deteriorated to the point they couldn't attend their granddaughter's 2013 wedding in person (but were connected remotely). Mom was despairing that insurance wouldn't cover Dad because he was "too old" I assured her that she was wrong, and eventually he got the surgeon he wanted; maybe the one from the former surgery.
By all accounts the surgery was a success, but I had a nagging worry when I read an email update saying that Dad seemed ambivalent to post-surgery therapy and they seemed to delay his discharge to a rehabilitation facility fairly close to the folks' home. So they discharged Dad to the facility on a Sunday. Mom was there as Dad seemed to have a good therapy session Monday morning. (my baby sister emailed a rosy update as she left for her flight back to Missouri after a week to help out while Dad was in the hospital for his operation.) Mom had just left to grab a quick lunch when all hell broke loose.
Dad's blood pressure dropped through the floor. Sepsis. It was all they could do to maintain a high enough blood pressure to get him to the hospital barely alive. As far as I know, there was no infection from his surgery area; it seemed to result from some urinary tract infection. Don't tell me incompetent nursing killed my Dad!
So I had read my sister's update and was watching a cable pro wrestling program when I got the most distressing phone call of my life. My mom was calling me, repeating my Dad was dying and I had to get to San Antonio right away if I wanted to say goodbye. During the call, I can hear him coding, and they're rushing my Mom out of the room. Is this for real? Is my Dad going to die real-time while I'm talking to Mom? There's nothing I can do or say to comfort my Mom over 1000 miles away.
Off the call, I'm unable to book a seat on Tuesday. Should I hit the road and start driving? I'm still debating the issue when one of my middle sisters called me and repeated the urgency of my coming ASAP.. I finally nail down a flight from Pittsburgh out early Wednesday morning. I think they were able to get Dad out of coma for brief times with my Mom. The sepsis was already taking a toll on my Dad's organs; even if he survived this, he would be on dialysis for the rest of his life and under the best of circumstances a low, painful quality of life.
On top of everything else, the police have blocked off my exit to the airport, no detour to observe. So here I am in the unfamiliar Pittsburgh area. Luckily I've got my Garmin, head away from the airport and go out the next exit. I have to navigate through one-way streets and then managed to hit an exit to the airport. During connections I'm checking my cellphone and PC for status updates from my siblings (none). My sister and brother-in-law were there to pick me up. I was hungry since eating an early fast food breakfast in Pittsburgh (it was past 1 PM EDT). But we're headed straight for the hospital, no time to spare. Then the rush of events described above.
I love and miss you, Did. There are things you regret going through these things. It was a difficult time to find steady work, and for budget reasons I didn't take my normal trip home for the Christmas holidays. Then in late 2013 I was due to start a new job in WV on my birthday (2 days before New Years). Phone calls were basically impossible because Dad had a hearing disability from his years on the flightline and he never owned decent hearing aids. They routinely would break down to a series of squeals, etc., and Dad would routinely pass off the handle to Mom. So what happens is you regret you didn't take advantage of opportunities to visit the folks; you regret things you've said and didn't say. I can't change that, but maybe readers can learn from my experience.
A New Car
Well, Dad would not approve of my new car. He was more of a blue-collar "economic patriot" like those courted by Cherokee Lizzie and Trump, i.e., buy "American" cars. So of my prior 4 cars, 3 were GM and 1 was Ford; 2 were used GM's. I don't know if my siblings did the same, but my middle brother had bought a Volvo for safety reasons before Volvo opened its first manufacturing plant last year. The foreign automaker I chose does have domestic plants, but I don't think the hybrid model is assembled at any of the local plants.My Olds car was running great and only had 105.5K miles on it. Why did I trade it in, then, especially when my blue book value showed between $300-500, which you could burn through just replacing one's tires? Basically each repair was like a near-death experience. When GM deserted Olds around 15 years back, for all practical purposes the OEM market started to die off. To give a classic example, I had a transmission cable break a year or two back. The repair shop couldn't find any locally stocked part, eventually found one in Puerto Rico, but shipment was impossible in the aftermath of a major hurricane. Finally they were able to find a part at a local salvage yard. Before that, I had gone through 2 snapped brake line failures in 3 years (in WV and SC) I knew I had an issue when I had the car towed in the Charleston area when the Chevy dealer service department sat on it for a week before leaving money on the table, refusing to do the repair stating OEM reasons. They offered to help me find a junkyard. The bank which financed the Olds' purchase refused a new loan. I found a brake shop which fabricated its own brakelines and was willing to do the work for about $2300. Cheaper than digging into my savings for a used car. I had my fair share of other repairs over the years, including a transmission replacement soon after the warranty expired (about 50% more expensive than the brake repair) and lots of other things, most annoyingly as I've blogged before 7 power window failures (all 4 windows at least once, the driver's 3 times).
So what was the final straw? Maryland has you go through vehicle emissions tests every 2 years. I had done this 6 or 7 times before without an issue. Not sure what happened--it's not like a had a visible exhaust, etc--but the inspector failed me--no details on the form. So I took the car to my favorite local repair place. The day manager asked if my engine service needed light was showing, saying if so, you automatically get failure. Probably, but I'm not sure. At least my car would show some false positive lights that would randomly come and go. Most annoyingly, my airbag signal would frequently display. I think I took the car to a Chevy dealer the first time I saw the "engine repair needed soon" light, and the mechanic said he found everything working. I think they reset the chip, but it would routinely go on and off over the years.
My repair guy basically suggested that there could be up to 130 reasons for the vehicle emissions result, but I could easily burn more than $2000, mostly in labor, trying to find the cause (assuming it was a legitimate finding), way more than the vehicle's value. He suggest that I might lobby the MVA to waive the test, noting my light mileage, age, etc. (I was skeptical about this) or maybe string 3 month rechecks ($14 each) with automatic grace periods. I don't like depending on the good graces of state bureaucrats, some of who are dishonest and corrupts. (There's a story behind that I may discuss in a future post, not involving the MVA.)
So then the big question was what to buy and how to finance. My current self-employed income is better than my last position (where I was making more than $15K below market). My bank quickly approved a line of credit. I always had in mind buying a hybrid, realizing that the expense of buying a new car isn't going to payback in fuel savings (still, it astounded me to see a driving range of over 500 miles on a tank of gas).
I initially was thinking of a Ford Focus, but a few auto reviews soured me on the notion, eventually leading me to the selection of an Asian brand and model, one which has over 20 years of marketing hybrids. I don't expect to experience the issues I had in Olds being discontinued, even before I paid off the car loan.
So I bought the car over the weekend; this is like a new generation car; it's got souped-up cruise control, cameras and sensors that allow blind spot warnings, warn against lane drifts, provide back-out assistance; etc/ It's got a USB outlet which apparently interfaces with one's sound system (Pandora would be a huge improvement over crappy local radio stations). I like the styling, interior and trunk. Of course, I have 5 years of car payments before it's mine.
My Car Salesman
There are few Americans who have a clue on how to pronounce my French-Canadian surname. Typically a nurse will say something like "Ronald....?" My Dad, in taking us out to restaurants with a waiting period would sign in as "Gillmet". A more authentic French pronunciation is more like "Geel-met"So outside of Franco-American enclaves, it's rare to hear someone get it right on first try. Both times I remember involved men of color. One was from Cajun/Arcadian areas in Louisiana. Arcadians are cultural cousins to my Quebec ancestors from Canada. The other was my auto salesman this weekend, a second-generation Haitian-American from NY. (Haiti is French-speaking, although the local dialect is a fusion called creole.) One thing common to all French culture is a cohesive one, including language, customs, and the (Catholic) church.
Little did the dealership know that they picked the perfect salesman for me, given the long delays of waiting for contractual paperwork. One tell-tale sign was when I saw his hockey screensaver on his PC. He also pronounced my surname perfectly. So, on the topic, he explained that his parents had settled in the metro NYC area, but with both parents working, they seemed worried about their latch-key children living in a fairly crime-ridden area and not one maintaining their French culture.
So at some point, his parents emigrated to Quebec province (and he implied they are still living there). I think he went there around his middle school years and graduated from high school there. We talked about the local separatist movement. When I first talked about cretons, he seemed confused, and then I described the ground pork spread made with spices, like cinnamon, cloves, bay leaves, etc. He instantly knew (maybe by another name) and laughed, saying I was the first American who knew about it. Know about it? Hands-down, it's my favorite thing to eat; Mom rarely makes it anymore when I visit (mostly for dietary reasons), but she did make me a tourtiere last time (a close second). I remember we didn't find HEB stocking a lot of ground pork.
BEB Update
To unfamiliar readers, I've been posting updates, largely based on spouse Susan's almost daily updates, of my doctoral student colleague back at the University of Houston, who suffered multiple strokes around the beginning of June.Bruce has made significant strides. In one recent anecdote, Bruce complained his bicycle pace was going "too fast"--only the pace was not being augmented but under his own power. He is writing his name with his left hand (he is a natural right-handed person but his right arm is still weak, post-stroke). He is still a long way from walking on his own, but he is routinely surprising Susan with new tricks, like removing one of his own socks, almost unthinkable a few weeks back. He is still running into occasional food digestion issues. He is the late stages of phase II of recovery; he'll transition to a third phase rehabilitation facility, which is probably an hour's drive in bad traffic for Susan. For the last 2-3 weeks, Blue Cross has contested continuing to pay facility charges. Susan hopes to get at least one more week at the current facility covered, not because of the commute, but because of the significant successes Bruce has achieved at the facility. He is now fully engaging with his friends and families on visits.
