In June of 2023, my dad was hospitalized with kidney and heart failure. From that point until February 2025, he spent all but three months either in the hospital, a rehabilitation facility, or a nursing home trying to regain enough strength to come home. During his final hospital stay, from November 2024 through February 2025, we faced the moment every family dreads. He was placed on life support, and we were told that once it was removed, he would likely pass within hours.

Two days later, he woke up, looked at my husband and me, and said, “Hey guys. What's up? Man, I'm hungry.”

That's who my dad is.

He's tough. He's strong. He's a fighter.

He's been fighting since June of 2023, but truthfully, he's been fighting even harder since being placed on hospice in February of 2025. He has defied every expectation doctors had for a man with only 10% heart function. He survived a fall that broke his back, despite being medically fragile to undergo surgery. Time and again, he has pushed through what should have broken him.

Now, though, we've reached a stage he won't be overcoming.

Several months ago, we noticed a small spot on one of his toes. Hospice immediately began treatment, and a foot specialist came to our home to guide us and the hospice nurse on how to care for it. By the next visit, the entire to had begun to experience necrosis, but the doctor still hoped aggressive antibiotics might save it. Two weeks later, after seeing how rapidly things had worsened, he told us healing was no longer possible and the only remaining outcome would be self-amputation of the toe.

Since then, the necrosis has continued to spread. The infection has now reached the bone, and sepsis is beginning to set in. At this point, it's a race between the infection and his failing heart and kidneys to determine what ultimately takes him from us.

My father worked for the same company for over 45 years. He started as a day laborer and retired upper management. He lived a modest life, surviving month to month on his pension, never asking for more than he needed. Last November, he took his first and only cruise because he told me he wanted to go on one of the big ships before he died with me and my husband. We made sure that happened.

In February of this year, we recevied a letter informing us that the company he retired from had been sold and that his company-paid life insurance policy had been canceled. Because it was employer-funded, every dollar paid into that policy reverted back to the company. With him on hospice, finding another poilcy, even one to cover just burial expenses, is impossible. 

The policy was worth $10,000. We never looked to profit off his death. We only wanted to give him a respectful service and lay him beside my mama, the only woman he ever loved. When she passed away in March 2011, they had been married just 3 months shy of 43 years.

Asking for help is the last thing my dad would want, and honestly, it's the last thing I ever wanted to do. But after years of helping care for family without a second though, his savings and mine have been reduced to almost nothing. I am doing all that I can to cover his final expenses and am still $6500 short of the estimated $10,000 cost - and I'm afraid my time is even shorter with my dad. 

Any help, no matter how small, means more than I can express. And if you aren't in a position to help financially, prayers, kind thoughts, good vibes, or simply sharing this are deeply appreciated too!