John’s Birth / Dad’s Death (part 1)

When Jean was pregnant with Ann we took a childbirth class. One evening the instructor asked the class, “What is the first thing you should do when you begin feeling labor pains?” The instructor got the expected responses. One person said to call the doctor, while another said to go to the hospital. The instructor agreed that those were good things to do, but the FIRST thing to do is call the grandmothers.

The reasoning was that the new mom would be so tired and beat-up from the delivery that she will want the grandmothers to be at the house to help take care of her first, and the baby second. There was plenty of time for that other stuff later, but it was important to get the grandmothers on their way to your house as soon as possible. We thought this was funny, but later found out it was also true.

So it came to pass that Jean’s folks came to visit us immediately after Ann’s birth, and we scheduled my folks to come assist us soon after Jean’s folks left. When it came time to have rug rat #2 (John) we figured we would reverse the procedure and have my folks come first. My mom had three sons and no daughters, so we thought that might be a fun experience for my mom.

Since Ann was delivered via an emergency cesarean section, Jean’s obstetrician determined that John’s manner of birth would also be c-section. The obstetrician scheduled John’s date of birth as July 25. Because the date was predetermined we were able to invite my folks to be present for John’s birth. We also wanted my folks to hang around for a week or so afterward to help change dirty diapers and to watch over 3-year old Ann. We were quite happy to accept as much help as we could get. There would be 18 years of “bonding” remaining after the first couple weeks.

My folks arrived in Stone Mountain a couple of days before the surgery/birth. Mom (Gladys) confided that Dad (Richard/Dick) had not been behaving normally. Dad was 68 years old at the time. He normally had an unerring sense of direction. During the drive from Iowa he did not know his way back to the interstate after exiting for gas. I took Dad to a baseball game, but Dad wasn’t able to follow the action.

One evening Dad went to the bathroom in the middle of the night and could not find his way out of the bathroom. He got confused and mistook the shower knob for the door handle and got soaked. Dad told this story on himself the next morning with great amusement. We weren’t amused, but played along to minimize the embarrassing moment.

Mom and Dad went to an Internist who agreed to see Dad on short notice. After hearing a brief medical history, his recent symptoms, and Dad’s previous experience with kidney cancer, the doctor took a blood sample, and ran Dad through some physical dexterity and mental tests. My normally ultra independent dad kept looking over to Mom for help, but the doctor made Dad do the tests on his own.

John was born the next day, July 25, 1984. When I took Mom and Dad to the hospital to see Jean and John that evening, Dad was shuffling his feet and had to be led by the hand. He was definitely not well.

The results of the blood tests came back the next day and the doctor called our house wanting to admit Dad immediately to the hospital. My folks decided that if Dad was going to be in a hospital that they would prefer to be in their own hometown where they knew the hospitals, knew the doctors, and would have all the comforts that “home” normally conveys. The doctor accepted that, but insisted that they fly, not drive, immediately to Cedar Rapids and go directly from the airport to the hospital. Mom and Dad caught the next flight to Cedar Rapids and went directly from the Cedar Rapids airport to Mt. Mercy Hospital.