Taylor Swift, Nazis, and a Confession to the Nurse: Part III of Hurricane Helene and the Passing of My Father

On the night dad broke his hip, he was moved to a hospital room just after 11:00 pm about five hours after his fall. It was just he and I while mom went home with my wife Megan to get her things to spend the night. By the time we got to the hospital room, dad had been kept in the same position for a while, and I think all of the pain medications he had taken gave him some relief. Dad struck up a conversation with the male nurse who had been assigned to us, and it came up that the nurse was traveling to London the following week to go to a Taylor Swift concert. Dad really perked up at the mention of Swift. A few weeks earlier, he’d asked to watch the Reputation documentary, and he had described her as quite a sensation. After dad and the nurse talked about Swift, dad then tried to tell him how the Nazis were making a comeback all over the world. I could sense the nurse’s discomfort and felt my own discomfort growing as the nurse and I first heard the word Nazi from dad. Where is this old guy with dementia going with talk of the Nazis? The nurse and I were both relieved when it was clear from the way that dad told his story that he didn’t think it was a good thing the Nazis seemed to be growing in number. To be clear, dad never talked about the Nazis in any way other than an evil force that needed to be stopped. He was always on the lookout for current events and how they might tie to the Second Coming of Christ. He thought a Nazi comeback probably signaled the apocalypse.

Dad wrapped up his conversation with the nurse by giving an impromptu confession about a DUI he’d been guilty of at least twenty years prior. The arrest happened right outside of the small town of Winamac, Indiana–population 2,000–where he’d grown up as a kid, taught and coached for over a decade, and where my sister Anne and I had gone to high school. Dad had gone out for beers after golf, and he’d been pulled over just outside of town. He failed a field sobriety test and was arrested. He was humiliated and mortified that he could have hurt or killed someone, and I think he felt like he’d let down every student or player he’d ever worked with. Dad never had another drink the rest of his life.

The nurse handled dad’s DUI confession well. I imagine he heard all kinds of things from patients, especially patients who were on a lot of painkillers with dementia. After the nurse left, dad said to me, “I don’t know why I told him all of that.” Although dad didn’t bring death up specifically, I think he probably realized that he was really at death’s door this time, especially if he was going to have surgery on a broken hip at the age of 85 with advanced Parkinson’s. Although we’d never been Catholics, it made sense dad might want some sort of confession. When mom returned with Megan to spend the night with dad, I went home with plans to come back in the morning for dad’s surgery. We were told that wouldn’t happen any earlier than 9:00 am.

Note:

• This has been an excerpt from a longer piece about the passing of my father and the coming of Hurricane Helene through the area where I live outside of Boone, NC. I plan to continue to share excerpts from the longer work.
• Thanks for checking out this post!

Author: Torg

Writing Teacher at App State, Head Women's Basketball Coach at Watauga HS in Boone NC and podcaster at Torg Stories View all posts by Torg