George Lujan
My father George Lujan was born November 29, 1948 in the small town of Marfa, Texas. He was a long time resident of Marfa. He was born, raised, and was laid to rest in the town he loved, the town he called home. He joined the US Air Force in 1969 and served his country for 4 years.
My father met my mother, Mary, in 1973, they dated for 9 years and were married in 1980. They had my sister, Bonnie, in March of 1981. My father only wanted one baby but my mother told him, "No we need to have another so if something were to happen to us they have each other." My father agreed and told my mom, "Only if you give me another girl." I was born in February of 1985. By this time my parents had purchased a house, my mom was a housewife. My father started working for the US Border Patrol as a mechanic in 1982.
My father enjoyed his job, working in the yard, spending time with friends and family. He was a strong, hardworking, considerate, kind-hearted man who would do anything and everything for his family. He watched my sister and me growup into strong women, we have his strength in us. He let us make our mistakes but stood by us no matter what. He watched us start our own families. He met and watched his three granchildren grow. Jaleen (5 years old,) Ace (18 months) and Kiyra (12 months) were his happiness.
My parents spent most of their days sitting on their porch in the small town of Marfa (pop. approx. 2500) waving as people passed by. My dad worked for the US Border Patrol for 32 years. He was planning on retiring this next coming year. It started in the beginning of Nov. My father got a cough, he lasted about 2 weeks with the cough and then decided to go to the Dr. The Dr. gave him a shot. A week passed and the couging spells got worse and everytime he tried to talk he would cough.
On Nov. 22 he went back to the Dr. and they gave him antibiotics for five days and said he had pneumonia on the left lower lobe. That was Monday, on Wed. my mother and him left to go spend Thanksgiving with my sister which is 3 hours away, and I meet up with them. My dad was not himself, he just sat around and hardly talked. You could tell he didn't feel good but he didn't say anything. On Thurs. (Thanksgiving Day) He slept most of the day, didn't eat, and looked horrible. His breathing was bad but he refused to go to the ER when we told him he needed to (my father is a Mexican man who is stubborn and strong and independent).
Friday morning he woke us up and said, "Take me to the hospital I feel horrible and can't breath". We thought they were just going to admit him for pneumonia. That is when the nightmare began. That night his breathing was draining him and he was so exhausted nothing was working to slow his breathing and rate. They intubated him to help him rest and heal. They extubated him on Sun. He woke up and felt better but they told us the pneumonia was bad and his xrays still looked bad.
His birthday was that Monday Nov. 29, he turned 62 in the hospital. He was on oxygen his breathing was still labored and his rate was up but he was strong and doing good. Then after a week his xrays weren't improving and were getting worst. They couldn't figure out what was wrong with him. They wanted to do a biopsy and warned him and us of the dangerous that come with it but a biopsy would be the only way to get a definite answer. The Drs. had already mentioned PF but we were all praying for a miracle.
We started researching it right away and we found PFF. My father looked at the Dr. and said 'I want the biopsy, I want to know what is wrong with me" They were planning on doing the biopsy Dec. 8, my fathers breathing got worse that day, he was to weak to handle the biopsy so we put it off. The Dr looked at my father and immediately said we need to intubate you. My father gave the Dr a thumbs up and said go for it. They intubated him that day Dec. 8. We sat by my fathers side and waited.
Each day passed and it was the same bad news, no changes to the xrays, he was on 100% life support. Everything else was good, his heart was doing good, his kidneys were good. It was just his lungs. A week passed and the Dr told us we were going to have to make a decision to continue life support and do a tracheostomy or discountinue the life support. We decided to go on with the biopsy so we could know what my father had and then we would decided from there. They did the biopsy. The biopsy showed severe PF and there was no hope of any type of recovery. If they did the tracheostomy my father would just lie there in a hospital bed.
My father was strong independent hardworking individual who would have never wanted to be like that not being able to enjoy life and watch his grandchildren grow up, he was still working for the US Border Patrol as a mechanic (32 years).
On the 14th day (Dec.21) of my father being on life support we as a family chose to remove him from life support. We knew the decison was right, that was the hardest decision we have ever had to make but we knew he was ready to be with God and to not be suffering any more. My father passed away 7 minutes later Dec. 21, 2010 at 6pm, he died with dignity and peacefully with lots of family surrounding him, he can breathe easy now.
PF changed our lives in 26 days (from the day my dad was admitted to the hospital to the day he took his last breath). My father was well known and loved by so many. He made alot of friends throughout his life and touched many peoples lives. He lived a simple life and was content with what he had and all he had achieved throughout the years. His personality was one of a kind, his smile was beautiful.
My dad was a genuine, loving, easy going, laidback, talkative person with a wonderdul heart.He molded me into the woman I am today and I thank him for that. I know my father is watching over all of us. It brings our family comfort knowing he is not suffering anymore. We will continue to keep his memory alive. We will remember the good times we had with him and cherish the years we shared with him.
