A Little Golf Therapy

I know I have referenced golf in the past, my dad LOVED him some golf. He really could have gone a lot of different directions in life because of the many talents from the Lord. With the right coaching and a steady cash flow, he could have pursued his passion for golf right up to the pros. Thankfully, now, that love and passion for the game helps to pass the days as we wait for his body to respond so we can get the hell outta here!!

As you can imagine, post cardioversion, we have a very tired man on our hands. They will need to keep him sedated a bit to allow his body to recover from the trauma we had to agree to. A really nice, long sleep is just what he needs now with the low murmur of 'Wow, Pat, did you think he could really drive the ball straight up the fairway from the tall brush he put himself in the shot prior? I just can't believe it.' playing on the TV. Mom and I, on the other hand, need to be sedated as well, or a really long sleep, but we walk to Starbucks to breathe some outside air instead. On our walks, we sometimes talk, we sometimes don't.....this time, you could cut the silence with a knife, but we walk hand in hand. No words need to be spoken, just a mutual understanding, love and a sure feeling in our soul of "I am with you to the end" as we walk out of the hospital. You are pretty sure this same scenario has happened in a medical drama on TV before, but never did you imagine it was going to be a chapter in your life. This only happens on TV right, surely not in my family.

The afternoon is spent on the phone checking in with my husband, my brother, sisters, friends, uncles, aunts and loads of people so concerned for my dad. He was a lover of people, animals, life and sweat! :) So, you can imagine, there are a lot of people who need updates. Thankfully, I could call a few and the phone tree would start because I clearly didn't have the energy to call everyone myself. But, I was trying to let my sisters Kelli and Dayna know what was going on because they were both trying to decide when to come. Kelli lives in Las Vegas and has been ready to jump in the car about 14 times so far. I never told people not to come, but just reported the news. They would only let 2 people in the CCU room at one at a time, so if there was a bunch of us there, we would have to be on rotations. We also were trying to get a feel for how long dad was going to be in the hospital. If this turned into a really LONG affair, we would need some strength in numbers down the road, so maybe it's smart to hold off on calling in the whole arsenal now. Yet another decision to make and I was all out of decision making ability. I had to save myself to make sense of what the doctors were saying.

But, let's just say, the need to cardiovert Dad tipped the scale for Kelli and she loaded up and hit the road for Fresno. We figured maybe she could stay for a week and I would go back home to Escondido to be with my family while she stayed with dad. It would be nice to see my family again, but I wasn't so sure I could leave! They have to kick me out of the hospital room every night just to go home and sleep and if I am being honest, the only reason I did go home was for my mom. I couldn't let her drive home alone. Anywho, she needed to come and see her dad, so we will figure it out.

In the meantime, let's read Isaiah 40! "Hey Dad, listen to this....'Get you up to a high mountain, O Zion, herald of good news; lift up your voice with strength, O Jerusalem, herald of good news; lift it up, fear not; say to the cities of Judah, 'Behold your God!' Behold, the Lord God comes with might, and his arm rules for him; behold, his reward is with him, and his recompense before him. he will tend his flock like a shepherd; he will gather the lambs in his arms; he will carry them in his bosom, and gently lead those that are with young." Even in this time, we can still Behold OUR God. He comes with might and will tend to his flock. I believe He wants to tend to this flock right now and let's beg Him to get you out of here. He will hear us and furthermore he says in verse 28 "Have you not known? Have you not heard? The Lord is the everlasting God, the Creator of the ends of the earth. He does not faint or grow weary; his understanding is unsearchable, He gives power to the faint, and to him who has no might he increases strength..."

This truth we need as we fight for understanding of why this would happen, but realize we need trust in the Lord in this time because His ways are unsearchable yet He LOVES us. Well, the next couple of days clearly are going to creep along as we wait for Dad to come out of his sleep, see his heart steady and gain the strength to ask his body to function again.  Waiting, wondering, talking with the doctors and nurses, watching mindless TV, holding Dad's sausage fingers and trying not to lose all form of composure is what we have been reduced to.  We wait for the doctors to tell us we get to pack him up and take him home, but alas, they are no where near that.  It's a Sunday, Dad has been in this room for 9 days now, Kelli is on her way, Mom and I are running on fumes, but nowhere near the finish line.  And so we wait....

When Kelli finally arrives, golf is over, the sun has set and Dad continues to remain mostly unresponsive, resting from the big day.  We meet Kelli in the parking lot so we can prepare her for what she is about to see.  My dad is a really good looking guy, mind you, but somehow having bolts screwed into your head, a tracheotomy put in, and being attached to nearly every machine possible has caused him to lose his swag, just a bit.  The ride in the elevator was nerve-wracking, the walk down the LONG hall seemed endless as you could palpate the anticipation in the air of what was waiting for her in the CCU room.  Thankfully, the nurses cleared all of us to be in the room together for a short time, so we approach his bedside and everyone loses it!!  My dad opens his eyes when he hears her voice and immediately the tears start welling up in his eyes, Kelli can't help herself once she sees dad start crying and it surely doesn't take much for mom and I to cry these days.  Although, surprising we have tears left to cry.  I wonder if it's possible for tears to just dry out?  If so, seems like we would have experienced it these last 9 days.  Anyway, we allow Kelli to have some hand holding time with dad as she talks to him and loves on him a bit.  Its actually nice to have some new blood in the mix to give dad something else to look at instead of the now TIRED mugs of my mom and I.  The night wears on, mom and I are exhausted, so we tear ourselves away from the bedside and tell dad we will all be there with bells on in the morning.  Not 1, not 2, but now 3 of us!!  He seems thrilled in a sedated kind of way.  And so we sleep, we pray for sleep that brings health in the morning, for all of us!!

GF Pumpkin Spice and Pecan Muffins

GF Pumpkin Spice and Pecan muffins (recipe adapted from Artisanal Gluten-Free Cooking cookbook)

1 c. canned organic pumpkin

1/2 c. buttermilk

2 eggs

1/3 c. unsalted butter, melted

1 c. almond meal

3/4 c. sweet rice flour

1/4 c. tapioca flour

1 tsp. xantham gum

1/4 tsp. baking soda

1 c. packed brown sugar

2 tsp. cinnamon

1/2 tsp. freshly grated nutmeg

1/4 tsp. ground ginger

1/8 tsp. ground cloves

1/4 tsp. salt

1/2c. - 3/4 c. chopped pecans (depending on your nut taste)

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Spray the muffin tin with nonstick cooking spray or wipe with a little oil.

**Mix the pumpkin, buttermilk, eggs, brown sugar and melted butter until blended well. In a separate bowl, mix together the flour, xantham gum, baking soda, cinnamon, nutmeg, ginger, cloves, and salt. Mix in pecans.

**Scoop the batter into muffin cups, filling each three-quarters full. Bake fro 15-20 minutes or until the muffins spring back when lightly pressed. The muffins should be slightly golden brown on top.

**Let the muffins cool in the tin for 10 minutes, remove and serve.

NOTE: I adapted this recipe because I didn't have some things it called for in my gluten free baking pantry. I have learned to try the recipe one time exactly how it is and then make changes the second time if I would like to switch some things. I liked how the flours performed in this recipe, next time I am going to try and switch the butter to coconut oil and some of the sugar will be replaced with agave or applesauce. But, the way I have it written here was quite yummy! Hope you try it and let me know if you make it with a variation that worked well.

To The Lowest of Lows

Happy Birthday DAD!!! June 1st, 2011, my dad would have been 71 years old today! Do we celebrate birthdays in heaven?? Hmm....nothing says we do, but nothing says we don't either. Can I choose to believe the celebrations are even more spectacular where you have friends and family, from every path of your life surrounding you in the glory of the LORD and our Savior?? Why can't there be the most delicious, moist, decadent cakes there with ribbons of caramel swirling the filling and gooey goodness holding it all together plus coconut shavings, cause...why not?!! I say, let there be cake!! And as much as I would love to be buying my dad another golf shirt OR gift certificate for a month of golf OR the most amazing cheese slicer made of marble so he can fulfill all his cheese fantasies OR call him to have my kids sing Happy Birthday to him and hear his voice quiver as his belly begins to tighten pretending that he isn't crying only for the 4 seconds he can hold it in, I choose to believe he is having cake in the most glorious venue EVER surrounded by love and a HOLY GOD!! I still miss my hug most of all! The best was when you got a hug AND could feel the belly start to tighten, then shake as he soaked in all the love you were willing to give him. The memories are still so fresh, LORD, please don't fade them away with time. And with that, away we go.....

************************************************************************************

Well, we have arrived. Big deep breath, tissue box handy, heart fully exposed and off we roll. My mom and I have still been sharing a bed during the night hoping the presence of the other will bring a sense of comfort and strength. We both pretend not to cry ourselves to sleep, but it's obvious with the apparent shaking of the bed as we roll to opposing sides, cover our faces with our pillows and only come up for air intermittently so we don't suffocate. Getting to sleep is always the challenge for me....staying asleep was the challenge for my mom. I am amazed at how little sleep our bodies were able to function on without getting sick in the midst, such an amazing "fight or flight" response we have built in to our bodies. Thankfully, the night sleep brought no phone calls from the hospital for us and we have to be grateful for that! I seem to be in business mode for most of the days, its the nights that get to me. The Lord has given me a strength and clarity of mind for the task of being there fully for my dad AND my mom during the day, so I seem to awake with a renewed focus, ready for the task at hand....maybe after that cup of coffee though! We head to the hospital on this Day 9 of the adventure we never wanted to be on. Another 35 miles of highway that seems to get further and further away with each passing day.

As we pull in to the parking lot, it's jam packed with cars....now we even have to park FAR away from the doors of the hospital. An inconvenience for sure, but we need the exercise is what I try to convince my mom as she is sure the world is after her and this parking situation proves her point all the more. I get it, what do you expect having the one you love laying in a hospital bed rather than at home with you. Once on the 5th floor, we push the call button to head in to the CCU. When the doors open, I nearly hold my breath as we walk to his bedside hoping to see some open eyes. The nurses greet us, as they so graciously have EVERY morning, and we see his nurse tending to him. Hoping for a thumbs up, she welcomes us in and gives us the numbers run down. So, back to his heart....he hasn't been able to sustain a consistent rhythm all night, she says and the docs are concerned that the medication isn't helping like it should. The more work his heart is having to do, the less effective it can be to send healing blood to the rest of his body, so now it's the number one priority. We will have to talk to the docs and see what they are thinking, but he's really weak. When we approach his bedside, we both lean in the kiss him and he joins the world with his beautiful blue eyes as soon as he feels my mom's touch! This time his countenance hangs as if he has just completed a marathon, exhausted at the sheer opening of his eyes. This is surely not the direction we were hoping for! What happened to....let's go boys!!! No fight or fire in those pearly blues, just a lake of peril and uncertainty. I gotta bring the fire for him and breathe a little life into his soul. He still isn't talking much because the trach placement and the drugs. We talk about anything that might perk him up, we give him the run down of all the people we have been talking to during this process to be assured of all the people who love him and are praying for him. He hears about his daughters that are calling and wanting to be there, in fact, one is one her way to be with us! He seems to be happy about that, but the joy is squelched by the realization that he has a trach in and it's not going anywhere soon.

We see the parade of doctors beginning their rounds and we wait for them to make it down to us. Anticipating their arrival, I jot down some notes to be sure I don't forget to ask them some questions that have come up. It's the young doc today along with the director of neurology and the head of cardiology (uh oh!), we have some heavy guns today. I am not sure any bullet proof vest would have been strong enough to protect us from the news today. His heart is not responding to the drugs they are giving him in order to correct his atrial fibrillation. His heart cannot withstand this kind of rhythm for much longer, so we need to take action. They recommend cardioversion to correct his irregular heart beat. This is similar to being defibillated, but the electrical shock used is significantly less than when you are trying to restart a heart. There is risk involved with any procedure, but the real concern here is that the cardioversion doesn't dislodge the clots that have been forming in his brain from the initial head trauma. His head is still healing, so this intervention becomes a bit more dangerous. If one of the blood clots dislodges it can cause a stroke or travel to the lungs causing a pulmonary embolism, or he could die. WHAT?!! Picture a deer caught in headlights and that is how my mom and I both looked when the doctors got through telling us their recommendations and how they want to proceed. How did we get here?? And now we need to give them the "OK" to administer electrical shock in hopes to fix his rhythm. Deep breath, try not to faint, remain calm and stay focused. It really seems this is the only way for him since the drugs are not working, so do we really have an option to say no? As a frightened pair, we give the "Go Ahead" and the preparations begin. We only have about 30 minutes with him until they send us out and say that they will call us when they are finished.

We both fall onto the bed and weep, praying this will not be the wrong decision. What happens if a clot dislodges...then what?! The anguish inside cannot be masked any longer and dad sees the full extent of our fears as we sob on his bed. He is conscious enough to understand what they are going to do to him, but cannot really express his fears, thankfully. I don't know if I could have handled seeing him cry too! We tell him that we love him desperately and we just have to trust the doctors on this one. But, I have to tell him a few things just in case something happens, "You have been an amazing dad. I have learned so much from you and will continue to teach my kids about their Papa. This isn't over, you just need to know these things!" (In my head, I am praying these words are not the last words he hears from me, because the possibility exists.) The doctors come back to our 3 person huddle on the bed and tell us they will call us back in as soon as they can. My mom and I kiss him one last time, hold hands as we leave his room and walk out of the CCU. Back into the gray and maroon hallway to wait. I lose it....no more holding it together for anyone. A phone call to my husband sounds like a sobbing mess as I try to communicate what is happening. He can get people praying right now, so he must start making phone calls. We slump down on the floor with our knees in our chest frozen in time as we wait. No one is talking. No one is moving. Breath is barely happening.

A LONG hour goes by and the doors swing open with the doctor coming out to speak to us. We try to read his countenance immediately, but thankfully he eases the pain quickly with, "Everything seems to be working just as we hoped!" And we exhale. His numbers look good and his heart rhythm seems to be back on track. Now we have to wait and see if it holds. He explains that his body might go back into atrial fibrillation, but hopefully not, time will tell. But he is doing well and we can head back in to be with him. Heads held high, we follow the doctor back in, praising and thanking the Lord for allowing him to stay with us and letting this procedure work. The look of sheer relief is even plastered all over the nurse's face as we step back into the room. It really seems as if they are pulling for him personally and they genuinely care about his well-being. They have told us countless times how helpful it is that we are there for my dad everyday because they have some patients that are in the hospital for weeks without any visitors and they just don't do so well. Thankfully, they couldn't get us to leave even if they wanted to! Glad they are happy to have us. Let's all sit down and watch some golf, huh, we have had enough excitement for the day. Can we all just keep it down and in the realm of boring for the next couple of days.....PLEASE!!! I'm exhausted!

Bigger Fish to Fry

**After a long break caused by....broken water heater that leaked water into one of my kid's rooms, doing dishes at my neighbors house and filling up every bucket we own with water from houses around the neighborhood, learning of the sudden death of a family member - none other than Dollie, who fed my mom and I almost every meal while my dad was in the hospital (I speak of her in the post "It's Go Time Boys"), more grieving, and then 2 weeks of spring break for my kids. I continue to learn that life doesn't stop for us to get comfortable, but we must allow ourselves to be comfortable in the arms of Him who holds us through it all! And whatever the wind may blow, He has forseen it all for our good AND His Glory. So glad to be back.
*************************************************************************

The air is thick in the car on the ride up to the hospital. It seems that we don't really know what to say to each other. My mind is preparing to see my dad now with a trach which seems wrong. So many things about it seem wrong! When I was in 6th grade, I remember going through the D.A.R.E program (Drugs Abuse Resistance Education) and the officer who came to our school had some amazing stories. I knew my parents smoked...I knew I didn't like it...I had asked them to stop before, but didn't have the desire to REALLY ask them to stop until this program. I would come home after our DARE sessions and tell my mom and dad what we learned, especially when it came to smoking cigarettes. I let them have it, if you will. I told them they had to quit by the end of 6th grade. I couldn't take the possibility of all the side effects they talked about happening if they continued to smoke. PLEASE, do it for me, but also for you!! Well, needless to say, it worked for my mom, and my dad lasted a very short time. He just couldn't kick it. Let's just say, he wanted us to think that he had stopped, but nothing was going to cover up the smell on his clothes when he got home from work. I am sure he thought he had us fooled, but not quite.

My 6th grade fears were coming full circle right now. Granted my dad was in the Critical Care Unit as the result of a fall, not from excessive cigarette smoking. But the condition of his body and his inability to recover from the brain injury had more to do with the effects of YEARS of cigarette smoking. Plus, I have heard people "talk" with a trach in and I don't want that to be the voice I hear of my dad! Well...it is what it is and onward we move, hopefully in a forward direction. Some images of this whole experience still saturate my mind more than others. This particular day, I even remember where we parked! We had to park much farther than usual even though we got to the hospital a good deal earlier than usual. One foot in front of the other all the way to the elevators seemed a task almost too taunting for THIS morning. The ride in the elevator ALL the way up to the 5th floor seemed like it lasted an eternity, might as well have been the 30th floor!! And the walk, yes, the walk down the LONG hallway to the end of the hall allowed me to nearly re-taste my breakfast with every step. Just yesterday, we walked that same hall with nerves but excited nerves, hopeful nerves, fighting nerves, purposeful nerves. And now, only 24 hours later, this hallway brings fear, unknown, despair, a winded exhale and re-evaluation.

His eyes shown full of sorrow, his body displayed complete exhaustion, his arms now limp and frail and his heart was nearly exposed with words of "can this be?" Oh the strain of just a couple of hours! Here now lies my dad, helpless again, fully reliant on these doctors to get him out of this place because he obviously can't do it on his own. You can almost hear the years of regret in his head for having made some of the choices he did and not being able to conquer this addiction. I can't hug him, I can't hear him, I can't console him, I can't take it for him! I can just be there. Did I push too hard? Is this my fault? Should we have waited another day? Does my mom blame me? The doctors would have said NO if they really believed he wasn't ready to try, right?! Did the night nurses really do ALL they could have done to keep him off the ventilator? I shouldn't have gone home with my mom. I should've been there so I could have watched him more closely. That would've helped...., right? Welcome to Day 8!

Due to the significant night my dad had, the doctors need him to rest a bit more today and that means pushing more drugs. His body needs to recover from the tracheostomy and just the trauma of being extubated. This news is delivered to us from his nurses because the doctors don't exactly meet you at the door when you walk into his room. That would sure be nice, but instead you spend most of the morning trying to time your trips to pee making sure you don't miss their appearance. So, we wait. We talk to the nurses as much as they will stand about what actually happened in the night to cause them to call the docs to perform the tracheostomy. This might shock you, but....it came down to numbers. He was staying consistently in the high 80's for most of the day with regard to his O2 satuation, but in the night he was dipping close to the low 80's which is just unacceptable. (I believe those numbers to be right?!, I think). I am not throwing blame to the situation because unfortunately, I was not there to witness it all. It's just hard to see such a blow to his progress. We have LOVED the nurses for the majority of dad's stay thus far, and he really built a significant bond with them. Most of them worked a rotation so we were seeing the same faces caring for dad. They were consoling us and trying to re-assure us that this isn't the end of the world. The sweet Respiratory Therapist comes in and her face looks as if she has taken a huge blow as well. Now, she wasn't the one to work with my dad yesterday, but she has made such a bond with him and us that she comes to check on him in between patients. We love her!! We love that she brings perspective to the situation for us and it seems as if she is pulling for my dad on a personal level as well as a professional level. We would ask her questions that started like this, "If you were in this situation...., what would you do?" And she seemed to answer us heart to heart rather than patient to therapist. Truly a gift from God to have someone on our side!

We talk with the doctors. We understand what today holds (not much, really just resting for my dad). We hear about their hopes for him now as they have changed a bit with the circumstances. And we understand a little more about an old/new number!!! It seems my dad's heart is back in atrial fibrillation in a way that is concerning. They want to push some drugs to try and control it and in this day of rest, see if they can get it to calm down a bit. It's understandable with all the trauma he has experienced that we are now dealing with this, but the doctors are sounding more concerned this time. As you will remember, my dad was experiencing some mild tachycardia early on, which seemed to level out fairly well. So, we move from his poor chest and lung function to his heart (Which, if anything always lead him into the path of feeling not thinking, loving not fighting and caring not self-serving. A common statement of his would be, "Come on heart, don't fail me now!" This now carries more weight than I would like at the present moment).

We head over to Bobo and Dollie's house for lunch this afternoon and we both look like wet, cold dogs who have been roaming the streets all night hoping someone will take us in for the night. There really isn't any consoling that will help our souls at this point, so Dollie just banks on her amazing cooking to do the trick. And, believe me, with all the butter that goes into her meals, they do satisfy! Bobo jokes a bit, makes us laugh and helps us remember that laughter really is the best medicine. We wonder if he wants to come visit my dad in the hospital with us one of the days, but he tells us that his picture of my dad is so beautiful in his mind, he can't risk it being changed. It's just not his cup of tea, if you will. I wish it didn't have to be mine either, but no choice really.

I wanted this day to end so desparately, praying tomorrow comes with more hope. No more sitting around waiting for my dad to wake up from the sleepiness the drugs are causing, right? And not knowing how these numbers are going to fair for his heart drains our already exhausted souls. I read Isaiah 43 to my dad, but also to myself and my mom hoping for some truth to fill us up. "But now thus says the Lord, he who created you, O Jacob, he who formed you, O Israel: "Fear not, for I have redeemed you; I have called you by name, you are mine. When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and through the rivers, they shall not overwhelm you; when you walk through fire you shall not be burned and the flame shall not comsume you. For I am the Lord your God, the Holy One of Israel, your Savior." The weight is heavy on me....we eventually kiss him good night and head home....nearly silent.

From the Highest of Highs

***I knew this was gonna happen...I would get something wrong as I try to remember all the bits of information from 2 years ago. I had previously stated that my dad had a trach in and that was affecting his speech. I need to clarify this....he did not have a tracheostomy done...yet, he was fully intubated and on the ventilator. Getting him off the ventilator meant extubating him and allowing him to breathe fully on his own. Ok, back we go...

They agreed!! Can you believe it? I gave the doctors my reasons (the look of fight in my dad's eyes, his numbers are getting really close and we just gotten try!). They we already thinking similarly because the longer you stay on a ventilator, the harder it is to get off. He seemed to tolerate yesterday quite well and now is probably the best time for it. But wait, "we need you to understand something," the doctors say. "A failed extubation is pretty serious and it will put him back a couple steps. We will most likely have to do a tracheostomy if he is unable to keep his O2 numbers up. This is something we have talked about the possibility of him needing to leave the hospital with a trach depending on how he continues to deal with his mucus secretions. This is a calculated risk, but one we need to make, so let's do it!"

I follow the doctors back into the room as they discuss the procedure with my dad and what is expected of him. My mom and I have anxious nerves as they talk, I can only imagine what my dad must be feeling. We aren't able to stay for the procedure, so back out to the maroon and gray hallway we go to WAIT!! As we sink down to sit on the carpet resting up against the wall, we see our new friend coming down the hallway. When you spend 7 straight days in the hospital, you tend to meet people in similar situations. She is a lovely woman who lives in Bakersfield, and is here for her husband as well. Her husband was in the Burn Unit (which was right across from CCU). He suffered 2nd degree burns over more than half of his body and some 3rd degree burns at his job. She had been staying in a hotel room for about 10 days to be with her husband because the commute was far too long. We felt camaraderie right away and I so appreciated my mom knowing she wasn't the only one who was in this predicament.

We wait just over an hour to hear....he DID it!! He is breathing on his own, though labored to be sure, but he looks pretty good. They let us know that it will be just another couple of minutes for them to clean up and we can go in to see him. We both breathe a huge sigh of relief and tears well up in our eyes. Exhausted, scared, a bit numb and emotional, mom and I realize we have to pull it together a bit before we go back in to see him. My dad knows the sorrow that we feel about him being in the CCU, but he surely doesn't need to see us emotionally waivering with each procedure. Mildly composed, we head back to his room hoping to give him a hug....a hug that isn't impaired by tubes coming out of every angle. I have never met someone who gives better hugs than my dad. He still takes the cake on this one, so to have looked at him for a week now without receiving a legendary hug has been hard! If you have met him, then you know what I am talking about! AHHH!!!...we didn't think he would be hooked up to an oxygen mask! It makes perfect sense, but come on, that impairs the hug. Ok, remembering perspective, this is about him and not me.

"You DID it!! Dad I knew you could do it!" I start to cry just looking at his face that falls now with sheer exhaustion and his eyes have that stinging glare in them. His confident fight has morphed so quickly into fear of the unknown and lack of desire to even try. This might just be too hard for him. "Ok, Dad, this is going to be hard but just relax and breathe." A whole lot easier for me to say! Maybe I should just shut up! I want me to shut up! "I love you and will be right here with you." My dad has always been my biggest fan and has cheered for me in more games/matches than I can count. He doesn't always have the right timing when he cheers, but he cheers nonetheless. Maybe its annoying at times because of the ill-timed nature (for example yelling, "Come on James!" right as I am about to deliver a serve in a doubles tennis match at a tournament when playing for first place! Didn't like that so much.) But....he ALWAYS cheered! This was something I counted on and I needed him to know that he could count on me. I wasn't gonna let him down. The Respiratory Therapist works with him very carefully monitoring his numbers and making sure his is feeling ok. Maybe some golf is on and that will help him to relax. He LOVES to play golf and is happy enough watching it on TV as well. It just so happens that it's near the time of the Master's Tournament, so there is a tournament to watch. Nothing like a calm Saturday watching golf! Maybe Tiger will give him some motivation!

Let me reiterate that I am not a doctor and don't claim to know nearly as much as they do. But, if there was anything during my dad's hospital stay that made me question their judgement, what happened only 2 hours after his extubation would be it! The Respiratory Therapist (who happened to be Paul, not the adorable woman that we had grown so close to) had my dad sitting up IN A CHAIR just 2 hours after they took him off the ventilator!!! He assured us that this was standard protocol and it's really important to get them moving as quickly as possible. I get it, really I do, I understand numbers and protocol and statistics and research to support these things, but is there a world where individualized patient care can come together with numbers and protocol?? My dad had just enough energy to sit up on the side of the hospital bed with his legs dangling over the side for 5 minutes and then he was DONE. But, Paul decided he was ready to move to a chair right beside the bed. I will never get the visual of my dad slumped over in the chair, on the brink of falling off for the entire 40 minutes! We kept asking Paul, "Really, are you sure he needs to be sitting up like this? Can we move him back up to the side of the bed so he is a bit more secure?" My dad weighed about 215 lbs, so honestly if he starts to slump all the way to the ground, it will take some serious muscle to catch him before he ends up on the floor. I couldn't stand to see that happen to him! He is visibly losing his fighting spirit with every passing second at this point. He would begin to cough and the sheer forced exhalation took a couple of us to hold him and hope it passed quickly. This was the first time he was being asked to deal with his mucus secretions on his own. No more nurses suctioning it out for him, so here is where you "put your money where your mouth is" so to speak. Oxygen mask on to make sure he was receiving plenty of oxygen with every breath. Man, he hated that thing!! He just wanted it off and get me outta here.

Paul FINALLY moves him back up to the bed and let's him have some time to rest. I am terrified to think of him going to sleep now. He already breathes so shallow when he sleeps, what is it going to be like for him to have just been extubated and then try to breathe. We stay with him until he is able to close his eyes for a little rest and then we bolt to Starbucks! This day deserves a latte, I'll say. The Starbucks is just a 10 minute walk out in the sunshine and fresh air, feeling the air hit our face is enough to refresh our soul a bit and helps us to keep things in perspective. Obviously we didn't agree with Paul's full "attack" today, but let's just pray it all turns out ok. It won't set him back, right?!

We stay extra late this night to see dad for as long as we can. I wanted desparately to stay the night in the hospital with him, but I am so torn. How do I let my mom get in the car at 11pm and drive 40 minutes back to Visalia to an empty house by herself after being in the hospital for over 15 hours? But I don't want to leave dad when he has just had such a turning point! Torn!! But, the staff of nurses will be there for him and they will do all that is necessary to make sure he gets his rest and is doing well, right? My prayers that night carry more weight than ever, "Please let him make it through the night! Please keep his lungs filling with air! Please keep the secretions to a minimum and allow his body to do what it has been doing for the last 5 years...cough it up! (sorry, so gross). Please keep him from having to get put back on the ventilator or needing to have a tracheostomy. We want him to come home, you do too, right?!"

As the clock ticks away, our "sleep" is suddenly interrupted with a phone call. This is something that I have dreaded since the initial phone call I received from my mom the day of my dad's accident. My mom jumps up to take the call and the news, sadly, is not great. The nurses on the night shift had to call the doctor for an emergency tracheostomy to be performed because his numbers were dropping too low. He just couldn't continue without some assistance, so he is back on the ventilator, but this time through the tracheal tube. What a blow! Feeling the wind knocked out of us, we decide that at 4:15am, we weren't going to get back to sleep. We might as well start the day with coffee, a shower, some quick breakfast and head up there. Bummer!!

It's Go Time Boys

The nurses are impressed with his night and they are seeing some personality come out from dad. He is flashing smiles their way and starting to bring on the "Gilbert" charm. When we call in the morning the night nurse says that he had a restful night with less medication. What a victory! I am just cringing watching all the meds they are having to pump through his traumatized body. Maybe they can lessen the versed to have him be more present through his days? I am afraid, though, that my mom is starting to seem like a little versed thrown her direction might be a nice thing. She is really having a terrible time sleeping, we both still just cry ourselves to sleep, and she continues to wake with hopes of a different reality. As she sleeps, she is allowed to be somewhere else in her mind, dream about him as her mind's eye remembers, but waking every morning with the wind knocked out of her sails as the reality of the day hits. We keep wondering if this is all a dream and maybe we will wake up from it. These days do NOT feel like our reality, we don't WANT them to be our reality! But, onward Christian soldier, dad needs us!


On the road again....I just can't wait to get on the road again! Too bad Willie, this just isn't true in our circumstance. The long stretch of highway is raw with grief, unbelief, sadness, fear, bits of hope, and a whole lot of tears. But the Lord knew our feeble hearts and soul needed a boost this morning! We see my dad sitting up in his bed as we walk into his room! Whoa,...where did you come from? They have taken out the screws from his head because his ICP numbers are down and looking great! They took off his neck brace once the screws came out and he is hooked up a couple fewer machines. Glory hallelujah!! I don't want to be a situationally happy Christian, but thank you Lord for allowing us to see this window of renewed health for my dad. He welcomes us back, is genuinely happy to see us and did I say that he was sitting up yet?!!! What a relief, I think we are on the right track now. We can all "talk" about how he is feeling today. He really seems good today, what a treat. We will see how this day progresses, but the phone calls I put out this day have a much better spin than the previous days.

The doctors are starting to look more carefully at his heart though. I haven't liked his blood pressure and his heart rate numbers the enitre time. They have been so high for him, but again the doctors were telling me to realize what his body has been through. I just wasn't liking what I was seeing! Now, they are seeing his heart rate is irregular. We get more questions of the quality of his heart. We assure the doctors that his heart has never been an issue, to our knowledge, other than it potentially being twice the size of other people because he is a lover not a fighter! :) They are seeing episodes of atrial fibrillation, where his heart is having irregular beats and is of concern because it can lead to blood clots the longer it goes (and blood clots are already an issue when you are laying in a hospital bed). There are people who are walking around right now with this problem, don't know it and will be fine, but my dad has experienced a significant trauma so it's a bit more risky for him. He is also showing signs of mild tachycardia (heart beating too fast), so they will be watching his numbers closely. Here we go with more numbers!

I also talk with the doctors about where we are with the ventilator. Do they have a goal on when they want to get him off? I know that WE want to get him off the ventilator as soon as possible. I know he can do it. The Respiratory Therapist thinks he can do it. She has been working him hard, enduring all the dirty glares he can give her. Maybe I should explain what "working him" really means. When they put him on a ventilator, they are using a machine to breathe for him. When they "work him", they pull back on how much work the machine is doing and require my dad's body to take over the gap. The problem is that he may resist working that hard or not be capable of it. In my dad's case , they are asking him to be in a certain range with his O2 Saturation. They are looking for numbers in the 90%tile preferably about 92%. But, I would be willing to bet he hasn't been in that range for the last 5 years at least. And they are still concerned with the amount of mucus coming from his lungs. But don't we need to remember that my dad is in the beginning stages of emphysema AND has been a smoker for most of his life. He has been coughing up mucus, productively, for quite some time and dealing "well" with it. I realize now that he has a trauma to consider as well, but he is strong and will fight to get out of here! He will do it. BUT, at the same time, his fight may have an expiration date to it...don't leave him too long on the ventilator because he may just give up on you. I know my dad and I am trying to be his advocate in this time since he can't speak for himself.

So, my dad fades in and out through much of the day. He is exhausted from the work and needs to rest a good deal. Luckily, we are able to slip out for lunch and dinner while he is resting rather than having to look him in the eyes and leave. We have been generously fed most meals by my mom's cousin (Bobo and Dolly, we'll let's just say that Bobo does all the talking and Dolly does all the working! :) They save us from eating out at random restaurants through this ordeal AND Bobo is funny! I am not sure if he thinks of creative things to talk about while we are there, but we never feel heavy leaving their house. It's refreshing to get out of the hospital and so nice to be with family who love my dad and care for us so practically. I will never forget the many meals we shared with them! At dinner, I talk about how great dad looked today and how I just know he is going to progress well in the next couple of days. We just have to get him off the ventilator. If he has the same sparkle in his eyes when we get to the hospital tomorrow, I might just have to suggest we give it a go! He looked ready this morning when we walked in, but it was the first day that he had given us that much cheer.

We drive home that night thankful for the events of the day. My mom even got to share a story about my dad, this time to the Respiratory Therapist. As we continually fight to give background on my dad to these health professionals who are caring for him, we feel desparate for them to really know him. We felt they should know how my dad treated his doctors after his knee surgery some 30 years ago. Only hours after his surgery, my dad begins to ask the doctor when he can go home (of course this is way before the in and out orthroscopic surgeries they have now) and his answer was "as soon as you can climb that flight of stairs." So,...my dad immediately gets up and starts to walk up the stairs, sweat just pouring off him as he struggles to bend the knee that has just been operated on, but determined that he was not about to spend the night in the hospital. The doctor was impressived with his drive, and maybe a little saddened by his "stupidity", but had to let him go. Needless to say, he recovered fine at home and the knee was ok, but my dad was stubborn!! He didn't want to do what other people told him because he always knew he could do it faster or they just didn't know his abilities. "Maybe other people need these guidelines, but somehow they don't relate to me," was his thinking. Unfortunately, he was so strong and athletically gifted, both physically and mentally, that it was generally true. Although taming his pride would have been a good lessen for him, he just had to learn in other ways.

Tomorrow is another day and I pray this night that God would make it clear for the doctors that they should go ahead and try to extubate. I LONG to hear my dad's voice again and as long as that trach is in him, this can't be a reality. And so, we "sleep"....

We get to the hospital the next morning to see my dad sitting up again in his bed with that glare / fight / love / "get me the hell outta here" look in his eyes. I go straight to his bedside and tell him of my plan. I ask him, "Are you willing to work today? Can you fight today to show these doctors and nurses that you are ready to be extubated? You want this thing out of your throat and you are going to work hard to breathe on your own, right? Don't make me a liar...I want to speak up for you and be your biggest fan, but are you sure you are ready?" He reassures me with his eyes and a firm head shake, and now it's on. I am talking to anyone who will listen about my dad's desire to be off the ventilator. They worked him hard yesterday and he did well with it. His mucus is still a problem, but it's always gonna be a problem until the good Lord takes him home. He realizes that not being able to kick his addition to nicotine is now playing a huge role in his recovery. As a sidebar...Day 2, we decided to start my dad on nicotine patches to help with the withdrawls his body might experience from lack of nicotine. I kept thinking this will be the way my dad stops smoking for good. Why don't we speed up the process for him and take this time to ween him from the addiction, plus won't his body respond better to the rest of the trauma without having to deal with a "cold-turkey" method?

(It might sound like I am running the show here, I realize that, but unless you have had someone in a Critical Care Unit, every piece of information is important and could matter. So, I was just trying to make sure they were well informed and we thought about all the angles of care my dad needed. I think the nurses and doctors were grateful for my active role, but who knows what they said about me behind closed doors!! I didn't care, it's my dad!! Oh yeah, a funny thing about my "active" role, the first time we met the Respiratory Therapist whom we came to adore, she came into the room and was asking all kinds of questions. The questions were directed at the nurse, but she had just gotten there and hadn't had much time to go through his notes. I chimed in to give her the answers she was looking for and you should've seen the look on her face...."Who is this girl and why does she know these numbers so well?" In case you haven't figured out, I like to learn and will ask lots of questions until I understand something. Plus, with my background in exercise science, I catch on to medical jargon pretty quickly. :)

As the morning progresses, I finally lay eyes on my prey, the team of 3 doctors who had been working with my dad (Doogie Howser doc included who has seen my "active" involvement the last 6 days). I walked straight to them, very matter of fact and said, "It's GO time BOYS!!!"

You Ready to Brawl??

Hooked up to every machine known to man, intubated and can't talk, screws in his head, "booties" on his feet and legs to keep the blood flowing, and now his eyes are finally open. Wouldn't you be a bit pissed?!! So my mom and I are understanding my dad's angst upon waking and being made aware of his world, but I don't think either of us really knew how nasty it was about to get.

There were nights my mom and I would lay in bed, starring at the ceiling, wondering how we landed in this place. I was sleeping most nights where my dad usually slept, to help my mom feel comfort with someone by her side AND it helped me to feel close to him a bit. This might sound a bit odd, but I am journaling about my dad's last days in the hospital, so odd is where I live possibly. My dad's side of the bed had a certain familiar smell and it eased my pain a bit to remember that smell as I woke every morning. We would call the hospital every night before we went to bed (around 11:30pm) and evey morning first thing when we woke (usually 5am). Sleep was not on our side during the duration of this ordeal, and honestly for MANY months later! This particular morning, we called the Critical Care Unit and they let us know that dad was a little more energetic (code word for honery!) than other mornings. He was giving the nurses a run for their money and these nurses have seen it all. Buckle and get ready, "just love him regardless" were her words.

We had seen whispers of this last night before we left, but didn't get to stay with him through the night to really see the extent of what they were talking about. The 40 minute drive along the lonely stretch of highway 99 up to Fresno that we had done now 9 times was starting to seem like second nature. Thankfully the morning cup of joe and the shear duty of my job allowed me never to bat a tired eye on the road. This particular morning we have the excitement of something new pushing us along, knowing that when we arrived at the hospital dad would know us, SEE us and respond to us...even without words. I sure hope he will be excited to see us first and then let the beast be seen. Our routine allowed us to get to the hospital most mornings before the nurses shift change, say "Good Morning" to dad and then wait the grueling 30 minutes to go back in. The LONG walk down the gray and maroon hallway with hearts beating out of our chest to greet the one we had "lost" for 4 days was thrilling and frightening all at the same time. As the doors open, his suite is straight ahead and we can see some rustling happening in his room. Yeah, he's awake!


"Hi Dad!" my heart lept with excitement and fell with sadness as I squeezed his face next to mine, kissed his head and just wanted to climb up and lay with him. But, I step aside and watch the look on my mom's face as she embraces the one that has captured her heart for these 34 years of marriage. The adoration was palpable. Tears fell from her face as she welcomed him back, assuring him that everything was going to be okay, that she loved him and was sorry he was in this position. "I'm sorry" dad kept repeating as he made motions with his mouth for us to decifer. He can't feel responsible for this, can he?

The nurses inform us that he was not interested in all their tests through the night. "Mr. Gilbert, please squeeze my hand....now, with your left hand. Mr. Gilbert, follow the light with your eyes. We need to clean your tube now. You aren't going to like this..." We have watched them over the last several days deal with all the mucus my dad was producing in his lungs and just hoped that with time it would start to decrease. They would suction it out and pull the mucus up to clear the tracheal tube which would make him cough violently. Now, my dad had the capability of staring the nurses down with these eyes of wrath after they cleaned his trach. I can only imagine what lovely, sweet nothings he was whispering in his head. I might be grateful that we can't hear his audible voice just a tiny bit right now.

The doctors round today with a little bit more presence. I am right in the middle of it all again to make sure I hear all of what is going on. They share with me the results from the latest CT-scan. The swelling in his brain is getting much better as seen by the ICP numbers as well. We need to start working his lungs now, asking them to work a little bit harder, the ventilator needs to do less work as soon as possible so he doesn't get comfortable breathing less. So we are going to ask the respiratory therapist to start being a bit more aggressive. I now know how to encourage my dad through the day and what the doctors are expecting of him. I head back in the room after "doctor huddle" and reassure mom that things are looking good. Now, I can tell dad a little bit about what is going on. The nurses have been keeping him informed, but I would like to tell him from my perspective and with my bent of love.

We ask dad if he remembers anything about the morning of the fall and he does not. He doesn't remember calling Roxy, Jamie, nor trying to light a nail as if it's a cigarette. He doesn't remember being in pain from the fall either. He DOES remember my mom coming to the house where he fell and seeing her as the paramedics loaded him into the ambulance! That's nice right, thank you versed for that selective memory! As we sit and talk to dad the conversation being so one-sided just makes him frustrated, hear angry! So we realize that just sitting with him will be best. We can talk when he gets this tube out of his throat, hopefully soon! We can actually ASK dad what he wants to watch on TV this time though and the simplest of things become sweet joys. We see if there is any golf on, that will calm him down and settle things a bit, lets watch some golf together. As luck would have it, it's nearing the Master's Tournament so we were able to find some golf coverage that allowed a couple hours of our day to pass. This also happens to be the day we learn of actress Natasha Richardson's death. She dies of a subdural hematoma that resulted after a fall in a skiing lesson. She first resisted care from the paramedics and signed a waiver saying that she was fine. Wow, this too could've been our story if the man my dad was doing the job for had just let my dad drive home. He would have gone to an empty house and most likely would have gone straight to bed. I can only assume my mom would have found him dead when she arrived back at the house. We are thankful beyond measure to this man for not letting my dad leave, but trusting his instincts. Let's have a different ending to this story please! How frightening to hear of the parallels in these stories and tempting to keep my mind in check about what is going to happen to my dad.

Let me now introduce you to the most amazing Respiratory Therapist ever. Her name escapes me right now, which I didn't think would ever happen. We start to build a connection with her that is unmistakeable. She tells us her story of her father being in the hospital with similar circumstance and even having been a smoker. She watched his struggle to be extubated and fought hard to make sure the therapists were doing everything they could to get him off the ventilator. She assures us that she feels the fight in my dad's spirit, she likes his dagger stares he gives her as she "works him out". I try to convince her that my dad is the sweetest man you will ever meet. He may not be giving off that vibe right now, but just trust me. He was an athlete in his younger days so make him work. He was still laying carpet at 68, you can almost consider that some form of athletics when you are hauling a 1 ton roll of carpet on your back. She lets us know that it will happen for him, just give him time and be on his side. He is going to have to fight for her though and show the doctors "what's up!" She also tells my dad that she doesn't believe the crap he is trying to give her....she can see right through him to his tender center. I like her!!

This day was spent doing much of the same, sitting with my dad, watching his numbers, watching TV, reading scripture to him as he starts to get sleepy, talking on the phone trying to send updates and continually speaking truth to my heart and my mom. We only know what is in front of us, let's don't go any further than that. As the sun sets, my heart gets anxious about leaving. I HATE leaving every night. I didn't ever leave my mom when she was in the hospital, why do I have to leave now. They will let one of us stay the night, but my mom doesn't really want to because she needs to go home and check on Roxy (the dog). Plus, being there all day was emotionally exhausting enough, getting some sleep in a bed is necessary. He is in good hands right? But, it doesn't change the fact that I have to now look at his eyes and tell him "Bye, we will see you in the morning." He doesn't want to be there, and he doesn't want us to leave!...not without him at least. Please take me with you is what his eys communicate to me. So, we try to wait until he is asleep before we depart or it is just too heart-wrenching. Please talk care of him in the night and do more than just keep him alive! There is work to be done!