He finally went Home!

On October 22, 2011, Wilbur Rease made his final trip...Home! On the early morning hours of October 21st, he was trying to get out of bed to use the bedside toilet. Somehow he got his feet tangled and fell...breaking his upper leg. Mom covered him up until the EMS people could get there to access the situation. Of course, he had to be taken to the hospital. Once he arrived at Trident ER, x-rays were done and they found he had a fractured femur. Question was whether to do surgery or not. If they decided not, then he would be bedridden for the rest of his life. However, he might not come out of surgery. But amazingly, the doctor said he came through the surgery with flying colors. As we all went into his room after he came up from recovery, I noticed his coloring. I was not pleased, but figured it was just the lighting in the room. I asked him if he was feeling any pain. He said, "No". Everyone came in and talked with him...then as more people came into the room, the noisier it got, so Dad asked us all to leave. Which was fine. We knew he needed the rest more than anything.

The doctor called me the next morning about 7 a.m. He wanted to know if we were planning to come to the hospital. I told him that we would all be up there later. He said that Dad had had a rough night and they were having trouble stabilizing his blood pressure.

That same morning I had a local TOPS convention and had told 3 other ladies that I would drive. But something was nagging at me, telling me not to go. I talked it over with Gene and he said that I should go...that I'd have fun. So I went---reluctantly. Upon arriving at the convention center, I turned my phone on vibrate and placed it next to my chest...so it wouldn't interrupt anyone, but I would know if someone was calling me. No sooner than the convention was called to order, I got a buzz. So I went outside of the building to answer the call. It was a voice mail...and it was the doctor calling me. He said that the family needed to get to the hospital ASAP. Then I got a 2nd call. This time the doctor said the family needed to come to the nurses' station when we arrived at the hospital. I didn't give it any thought. I just knew that I had to get to the hospital. I told the ladies that I had driven with me...and they decided they would get someone to come pick them up later. So I headed for the hospital. The whole time I was asking Dad to 'hang on'....that I was coming. I got to the hospital and had a bit of a time finding a place to park, but finally got one. Once I got to the floor where he was, I headed straight to his room. His door was closed. I went in...he was laying there with his eyes closed, his mouth open a bit. I took his hand. It was cool but that was nothing unusual. Then I placed my hand on his chest. He wasn't breathing. I laid my head on his chest. No heartbeat. That's when I knew...and suddenly, my heart broke. I began to shed some tears. Then in another instant, I thanked God for making him comfortable. For taking him out of his misery and pain. It wasn't long before two nurses came in. They held my hand while I continued to hold his. They told me that he had no pain that morning and that he told them he was doing fine. His body just couldn't handle the trauma of all that he'd gone through. He had been sick nearly the entire year. In and out of the hospital the last couple of months. He was so tired of hospitals. He was sent to rehab twice. He did what they wanted just so he could go home. Then he got pneumonia and he fought that and won. But the fracture was just more than he could take...and he knew it was going to be a rough road back.

As much as we miss him, we're glad he's no longer suffering. He'd really had a rough year. He'd tell me and mom so many times that he was ready to go to Heaven. He was tired. Each time we'd tell him that God knew when his time was...and that he had to be patient and just enjoy the time he had.