Letting go of the need to blame

2020 presented humanity with unprecedented loss. On a personal note, I lost my father, and I want to share the story.

With regret, when asked, I have at times claimed that he died because I was not there when he most needed me. Or, with some angst, I say that he died because the health care system was ill-prepared to function when we most needed it. My family experienced collateral damage, as have countless others, because of COVID health policy. But this is assigning blame. I recognize that for the most part, we were all doing the best we could under unusual circumstances.

Having been designated medical power of attorney for my ageing father, I found myself, in consultation with the rest of my family, having to make heart-wrenching decisions. I know we were not alone.

At the age of eighty-six, dad had outlived most of his immediate relatives by at least ten years. For that, we are grateful. Although his health was deteriorating, he had a strong will to live.

He did not drive. But armed with a grocery cart, and a memorized list, he never hesitated to walk unassisted to shop at the grocery store.

He planted and maintained a vegetable garden. He was able to clean and groom himself and took pride in looking presentable. He walked daily. In fact, for three weeks, in mid-life, he walked and worked on a broken foot. He prepared simple foods to nourish himself when my mother could not. Above all else, dad did not wish to burden anyone.

When I insisted on taking him to any of his health-care appointments, he went out of his way to somehow try to compensate me. When asked by health care providers how he was feeling, he seldom expressed any complaints. He was thoughtful and grateful.

On March 19th, 2020, while I was out of the country, my sister called about my father's health. He had gotten up, groomed himself as usual and prepared breakfast. When my mother came into the kitchen, she noticed that he seemed to be favouring one side.

In his mid-fifties, dad had experienced a minor stroke while operating a jackhammer. Like two of his siblings and his father, dad had also been diagnosed with peripheral vascular disease (diminished blood flow to the limbs). Knowing every detail of his health history, having had his blood work done before I left and the ability to access it, I encouraged my sister to call an ambulance.

My father walked into the ambulance. He could speak and feed himself before going to the hospital. Yet, within days, left alone in a health care facility because of COVID lockdown, he became lonely and scared. Quickly he lost the ability to swallow, eat and walk. Mobility was essential for his health.

Like my mother, I experienced righteous anger. I knew I should have followed my instincts to stay home in March. Upon returning, having to self-isolate for another two weeks, meant I could not be there in person, to help prepare food and assist my mother. My siblings had to do more. I felt guilty. I was prioritizing the safety of others while neglecting the needs of my family. It was a moral dilemma.

On April 7th, after finally arranging for delivery of a hospital bed and other health care devices, my father was allowed to come home. We hoped to nurse him back to health.

Sadly, the damage was severe. Dad could barely breathe, speak or swallow. He was so dehydrated. He managed to express to my mother how much he suffered in the hospital.

Upon seeing me, dad pleaded that I get his medicine. By that, he meant the nutrients I had used to nourish him back to health in the past. I had promised to do that upon his return. I made a lot of promises I could not keep, under the circumstances. I felt helpless.

It was unethical to watch him struggle for every breath. We had no choice. (Or did we?) We sent him back to the hospital.

On April 15th, 2020, my father took his last breath. He was finally at ease.

As previously stated, at times, I blamed myself, taking 100% responsibility as I am inclined to do when something unfortunate happens.

Other times, I highlighted the inadequacies of the health care system portraying a victim mentality. I justified my negativity by righteously reminding others that awareness helps create change. After all, I want to help create a more sustainable health care system that treats the person, not the symptoms.

I learned that while righteous anger can mobilize action toward justice when I blame, I suffer.

Having now regained composure, I realize that, for me, advocacy trumps activism. I can help create change courteously and without blame. My father would like that.