My Uncle Pete died on December 4th. He had scheduled surgery for his knee and found out through pre-op exams that he had had several heart attacks. The doctors decided he wasn't in any shape to have knee surgery and his heart needed taken care of first. He had quadruple bypass surgery two days before Thanksgiving. There were several complications. He had to go back into surgery after they discovered internal bleeding. His lungs never fully worked to capacity because he was a smoker and had emphysema. After more than a week in ICU, his doctors moved him to his own room and then only two days later sent him home.
His wife had to call 911 the following morning because he was having trouble breathing. After a short stay at our local hospital, he was sent home with more medication and an oxygen tank. My parents had dinner with him and his wife and my mom stayed over. Then Saturday morning when my dad came over to pick up my mom for a Christmas Tea we had planned, there was an ambulance and firetruck there. My mom had seen him when she woke up. She went upstairs to take a shower and 15 minutes later my aunt saw him, but he had stopped breathing. The paramedics worked on him for 15 minutes, but it was obvious he was gone.
We are all grieving this loss. My kids had such fun going over there for BBQ's and s'mores in the fire pit. They climbed trees, played ball and soccer, and just ran around. But in the wise words of a 6 year-old, she reminded me that even though gramma was sad, Uncle Pete was in heaven with Jesus and he was happy.
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