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!

Will We See His Eyes?

Enough...I miss my dad's pearly blues! When will he have some emotion behind that glassy stare. I squint to eek out a glimpse of his beautiful eyes hoping he looks back at me and at 8am when we arrive back at the hospital for the day, it's just not in the cards. We are assured by the nurses that he soared through the night without incident plus his numbers look good. More watching the numbers and waiting for the doctors to round. The doctors become your lifeline and you live and breathe by when the doctors round. You can spend ALL day waiting for the doctors, trying to plan your potty breaks even around someone being in the room when the doctors come because they are NOT GOING TO CALL YOU. I can remember wishing to run to the car to get some licorice to snack on, but thinking if I am gone too long, mom can't keep them there long for me to get back in time. Or, dreaming of walking to get a Starbucks coffee for the outside air AND the cup o' joe, but you don't dare take that chance until AFTER the doctors have rounded.

I haven't spoken nearly enough about the amazing nurses we had in the Critical Care Unit. They loved my dad and I am certain they saw in him something special, as we did, they knew he was great. I would tell them stories of my dad as the day passed that went something like this,

"I know it might not seem like it, but my dad used to have a 21" neck!! Can you believe that? I was not born in his athletic prime, but man alive, what does a 21" neck look like on a man that is just shy of 6'0" tall? My dad used to play Triple A baseball for the Dodgers but before that he was a center for the Fresno State University football team. He blew his knee out after a year and a half and then decided to try baseball. He played in high school, so figured he should be fine to go out for minor league teams. Sure enough, this athletic genius soared right up to the Triple A team as a pitcher and was drafted to the Big Leagues by both the Dodgers and the St. Louis Cardinals. Unfortunately he was also a "ladies man" and his lady at the time didn't want to be with a pro baseball player, so made him walk away. My dad said, "OK pretty lady and left!"

This one came out as well...

"My dad was the coolest because he used to get home around 5pm and we would still be playing outside. He installed carpet and when he came home, sometimes he had a huge pile of carpet on his truck. All the neighborhood kids would start to run as soon as they saw his blue truck coming around the bend because the first one to touch the truck got to sit on his lap and "drive" the truck around the block. The other kids would pile into the bed of the truck and go along for the ride. There were times he would come home with a huge load of carpet on the back and then you wanted to be the first one to the truck to climb on the carpet rolls! He was the coolest dad and so strong!"

I wanted to give him a personality. His placid body wasn't giving them much plus he was stubborn even in a drug-induced coma. Progressively they were lessening his versed which kept him from remembering much or caring about much. They nurses would come in and have this routine..."Mr. Gilbert...hello, Mr. Gilbert,...I want you to squeeze my hand...come on, you can do this, just squeeze my hand...Good,...now the left hand,...wake up your left hand and squeeze me Mr. Gilbert." I would be willing to place money on the fact that he was completely aware of what was happening, but sometimes he would not do it just to be honery!! I can hear this chant in his head...'Seriously people, you were just in here a couple of hours ago and I did it for you then...what makes you think I can't do it now.' Little did we know what can really happen in only a couple of hours. But that is for later, much later.

The doctors finally round this day and I insert myself in the circle of neurosurgeons, residents, attending and nurses just as if I belong. I am listening to all the numbers the day nurse is rattling off, letting the doctors know where his status is. They are discussing the results of his latest CT-scan and if they can think about making some changes today. Change is good, right, let's go for it. I hear them talk about the swelling in his brain lessening quite a bit on its own, so they will not have to do surgery to drain the fluid off! Praise the Lord, big exhale! They are concerned with the amount of mucus that is coming from his lungs though. They understand that he is a smoker and has the beginning stages of emphysema, so mucus is to be expected. But, in order for him to be extubated, his mucus production needs to lessen dramatically because he is not strong enough to deal with all that on his own. They want the Respiratory Therapist to start making his lungs work a little harder to breathe so they can ween him from the ventilator. The longer that he is on the ventilator, the lazier he is going to get and the HARDER it will be for him to be weened. Okay, now we have something to work on and I have my first assignment....ride the respiratory therapist to make sure they know what a determined man he is, but you have to force his hand a bit. He can be lazy if you give him the opportunity for it, but a job at hand and he is sure gonna do his best to get 'er done!

My mom plays Suduko A LOT, I talk on the phone A LOT updating people, we sit and talk to dad, we walk the halls of the hospital, we watch some TV, and we even chose to eat, sometimes. I am not sure what we would have done without red licorice and salted mixed nuts from costco. The waiting game tries on your mind, body and soul. And it has only been 3 days. My exhale even seems to take longer than usual as I hoped with each one I would see that miraculous change in my dad that would pop him up from the bed and let him start talking to us. But we wait....still squishing his sausage fingers and his Fred Flinstone feet, kissing his head and praying. His numbers were looking better until.....

I see his heart rate begin to get a little higher than usual. Now, having an exercise science degree means I really like heart rate numbers. I know them, I love them and I tell others about how to use them. I didn't really like the numbers I was beginning to see...120 bpm instead of 90 bpm. My dad is just laying in the hospital bed, why should he have such a high heart rate? The nurses seemed to think it was okay because he body was in so much trauma right now, you can't expect it to be low. I still didn't like the jump and now I was on them. I was formulating reports in my head to tell them how often it got up that high, how long it stayed up there, etc. What if his body was trying to tell us something? We need to listen and watch for all the cues he is sending since he can't talk to us!! Who's with me?? Oh wait, I am not the doctor or the neurosurgeon, or the attending, or the resident or the nurse. But I am the daughter who loves him desparately and is not going to be sitting back while something happens to my dad in front of my face. Right, God, you want me to be the eyes and ears for my dad while no one is in the room? And so the inward struggle begins. No one seems to be overly concerned with his heart rate. I will pray and trust the God will allow the right people to care for my dad and they have been given the wisdom needed for this exact situation. Allow me to be a helper and not a hinderer. Easier prayed than done!!

A glimer of hope comes late in the night as we are about to head out...my dad starts to voluntarily move around. He begins to blink with some premeditation! Hey, this is good! I will see those pearly blues. It will be of no surprise for my dad to see mom and I here because he has been aware of our presence the entire time, acknowledging that his mind was active. We just couldn't wait for some kind of love thrown back our direction. How selfish that must sound that we would desire for him to give something to us in this time, but to know my dad is to KNOW love. This 3 days of no response would be the only time in my entire life I have experienced being with my dad and not being able to feel his love for me. Apart from the squeezes I would steal as I opened his clawed up hands to hold just for a moment, I was not used to this little of affection. My mom and I stare at him adoringly for awhile as we sit by his side. We assure him everything is going to be okay, but he has a bit of a fight ahead of him. He cannot talk because of the ventilator and watching him realize that was heart-wrenching. We tell him to relax and we are not going ANYWHERE! We are going to be right by his side the whole time. As his world becomes more real to him, he is shocked of his whereabouts, to be sure. Immediately those sweet pearly blues turn into frightened, pierced glares! Unleash the beast and get your boxing gloves on because we are about to go to war.

As The Dust Begins to Settle

Waking up in THE WORST hotel I have ever experienced was nothing compared to the out-of-breath feeling in my chest as my eyes opened. A glance at the clock showed that we just experienced a 2 1/2 hour "sleep", 5:30am is what the clock read. Neither of us were accomplishing much being flat on our backs in these horrible beds, so maybe a shower will help. I am sure it can't possibly wash away the helplessness I felt for my dad and the sadness deep in my heart for what my mom must be feeling. I will be here as long as I need to and see it to the end (please Lord, let this be a quick end and a happy one!).

Staring in the mirror realizing no amount of makeup is going to cover up the dark circle under our eyes, let's just get dressed and get back to the hospital. What did it matter anyway, we were heading back up to the 5th floor Critical Care Unit of Community Regional Medical Center to wrestle answers out of doctors and to sit by my dad's bedside whose eyes are closed anyway. A quick run through Starbucks for fuel, thank goodness they started selling egg sandwiches, and then straight to the hospital. I remember arriving back a little before 7am, wishing I had never left, but I have to take care of 2 people now, my dad AND my mom.

Well, the old saying 'timing is everything' sure is true...we got up to the hospital just in time for the nurses shift change!! Thankfully, they let us go in and say "Good Morning" to my dad before they made us go wait in the hall. I was relieved to see him, kiss him and let him know that we were there and going to be there all day. I grabbed his hand, squeezed it to see if there might be some acknowledgement of my presence in between his injuries....and I got a squeeze back. I didn't care if it was involuntary muscle movement at this point, I will take it! "I love you Dad and it's going to be ok. I will be here to help you fight."

The wait in the hall seemed longer than our pretend sleep that night. What if we miss the doctors? What if something critical happens and they don't come get us? What if he gets a nurse who doesn't want to answer all my questions because I have lots?! Oh yes, Lord, you know our needs and hear our cries, please do something! As we sit and wait, you look around at the faces of the others in the waiting room wondering what their story is. And, more importantly, what will their ending be? How does this all play out? Will we be here for a week and then get to take dad home? Are we going to be here for awhile and then is the road to recovery even longer on the other side? WILL he fully recover or should we prepare ourselves for a new version of dad? STOP, this can't be helpful or healthy to head down this road, tempting to be sure. Be here, in this day, doing what needs to be done right now and wait for the story to unfold. Be strong in the Lord for me and my mom. She needs me.

You have to call in to the Critical Care Unit in order to be let in as they only allow 2 people at a time and only family members when the patient is in such a critical state. They don't tell you, the shift change is over, so come on in. You just keep calling! Sorry to the nurse who is stuck answering the phone because I am just going to keep calling when it feels like 30 minutes has passed. I breathe a sigh of relief once we get the green light to go in. I didn't drive all this way to sit in a waiting room! My sweet dad is glad we are back, I am sure of it! Maybe you can't tell outwardly, but he has always worn his heart on his sleeve! We begin the road to understanding my dad's injuries fully and watching numbers. I wanted to understand what all the machines were and what numbers they were looking for to get excited. In the onset, it's all about the intracranial pressure (ICP) number. They had inserted a device in his skull that measured his ICP and that was the monitor I had my eye on. I can remember talking to my dad about his numbers and telling him to relax and let his body heal, so his ICP would get below a 10. If memory serves me right, he started out at a 14.

I could go on and on about his O2 Sat, CO2, BP, HR, pulmonary mechanics, but let's just say, every machine had a beep and you wanted them to stay QUIET. Beeping usually meant bad things, unless it prompted the nurse for a new IV bag or pain meds. The nurses were incredible, nice, gentle yet firm with my dad, and so knowledgeable!

We sat, turned on the TV and watched a bit, read some, talked to dad, talked to the nurses, asked when they thought the doctors would be by, sat some more and waited. The doctors finally did their rounds and I am not sure what I had in mind, but we ended up with the Doogie Howser doctor who looked like he couldn't have even graduated yet. Wait, I don't want my dad with a rookie! He needs the best. Once again, we have to trust that he is in the best place right now. The doctor assured us that his TEAM (thank goodness) was monitoring my dad's numbers very closely. The results of the CT-scan showed swelling in the frontal lobe which meant when he fell backward and hit his head, the impact was so significant that his brain was thrown to the front of his skull with such force it caused the subdural hematoma. The place of impact also showed a significant amount of trauma, so much so they wondered about the story my mom told on how it happened. These kind of results are usually seen from a fall of over 2-stories high!! WHAT?!! This is not causing me to feel more hopeful. They also see other places of concern in his scan, scar tissue possibly where obvious trauma had been. WOW, to realize what was going on inside his body after all of the falls he had taken is heartbreaking. My dad didn't talk enough about how his body felt. I knew he wasn't in amazing shape, tough as nails to be sure, but really had been tough on his body all his life!

And so we spend the day, sitting, waiting and watching. I squeeze my dad's Fred Flinstone feet wanting to cherish every second I have with him. Not because he isn't coming home, but you realize how fragile life is. We called my brother, sisters, aunts, uncles, grandpa, my husband, cousins to let everyone know they needed to pray. This was going to take a team effort to get him out of here. With every phone call, the emotion would come flooding in as I re-told the story to each person giving them all the information I could. But, I have to say, I had a mission to understand as much as I could from the doctors in order to help my dad and mom, so the Lord really gave me strength to be the information gatherer. Because of my exercise science degree and my love for the body, I could understand much of the doctor lingo and re-communicate it with my mom. Not a whole lot to need to understand right now other than, we need to let his brain rest for now.

And so we wait. The long walk down the hall from the elevators is going to be a regular occurence I feel and it seems the maroon and grey carpets will be my home for the next several days. I wonder how long they will let us stay each night before they kick us out? You think they will let one of us sleep over? I don't really want to drive all the way back to Visalia every night, but I need to be with my mom as well. As the darkness begins to set, we start to wonder how we just leave him there. How do you get in the car, go home, and try to sleep? Who are we kidding, there will not be much sleeping even though we are both exhausted!! But, alas, as the nurses remind us, we need our strength as well for him tomorrow. We are his biggest fans and they need us to be there for him. Who else will explain just how stubborn this guy is and how they really gotta watch out for this one!

The night shift changes about 7:30pm, so we go get dinner and then decide to come back to sit with dad and meet the night nurse. We finally call it a night about 10:30pm, realizing it would not benefit anyone if we get into an accident driving home because we are so exhausted. One last hug and kiss for my dad. I have never felt like I was going to hurt my dad by hugging him, he is quite a muscular man, but this time his frailty was so evident. Will he be able to hug me again? Oh man, he gives the best hugs...you have to get better dad, I need another hug!! Walking out with a long sigh of unbelief, my mom and I start the trek back to Visalia hopeful that tomorrow might show some improvement.

Food Thoughts from my dad

"When you make something in the kitchen, love what you make and who you make it for, it always tastes better!"



My dad lived this reality to a tee...he loved to make breakfast for us most mornings of the week. We had anything from scrambled eggs and toast, french toast, oatmeal, fried eggs, pancakes or cereal. I can still remember the joy he felt when he would make Mickey Mouse shaped pancakes, even when we got older! He loved me from the inside out and I knew that would never change. Somehow you knew that he was plating up a bit of his heart along with those pancakes, so even if they were so thick you could barely cut them, you ate them in love! I will always miss his passion on a plate!

Try this one if you haven't already: peanut butter and jelly pancake sandwich

We often got leftover pancakes in our lunch used as the bread of a sandwich. The first time I came to school with a peanut butter and jelly pancake sandwich, I will never forget the look on my friends faces. "What is that?", but then if they knew my dad it all made sense. I will say when I was sent with a peanut butter and CHEESE sandwich, they started asking questions. The best was when I was actually able to convince some of my friends to try it and surprisingly, most of my friends would agree that it was GOOD.

If you are REALLY adventurous: peanut butter and CHEESE pancake sandwich

Miss you dad!!

The Journey

I realize I might be breaking all laws of blogging right now as I begin my blog with a reflection over the last 2 years of my life, but this is my journey. It will explain how I got to this place in my life now and I hope it might provide you with some encouragement. I agree it starts out tough, but relateable really. We all have a day where the course of our life seems to change, maybe you haven't had yours yet, but you will. The circumstances may not be fantastic, maybe they will, but they will change you and hopefully for the good!

It was a Saturday, 2 years ago today, and the day began with the usual whirl of the morning as 3 kids wake up, realizing they have a day off from school, mom usually makes something you can pour syrup over and they were happy! Saturday mornings sometimes hit with a rush of activity, but this day we stayed in our jammies to enjoy the slow start to the day. After breakfast, I decided to hit a power yoga class which started at 11am at the YMCA (of course I waited plenty of time to make sure my belly was empty!). This was not a usual occurence on Saturday mornings, but seemed like a good idea this day. The class was great, but seemed to wear me out more than usual. I just might need nap in the afternoon and really take advantage of this Saturday. Maybe I could convince the kids they needed a nap as well and we could all let the lunch coma take over and whisk us away into a little afternoon sleep. The plan was a success and I must say this sleep was different. I usually take a 20 minute power nap, wake feeling refreshed and then get on with my day's work. Not this day, I ended up SLEEPING, not really napping, but a full 2 1/2 hours of sleep. WOW, not sure what this was all about...but, I'll take it.

Upon waking, I checked my cell phone and realized I had missed several calls. Most of them from my mom who usually calls because she is at Target or Costco on the weekend and wants to know what size clothes the kids are wearing now! :) This time her message seemed hurried and excited. Hmm, better call and see what she needs.

(The sting of the phone call still rushes over me like a wave trying to suffocate. You see, this is a way I need to heal, but first the scabs will be ripped off to expose the new pink skin underneath, and slowly, with time, you notice the skin has recovered. Maybe a scar is left behind in the place of the scab, much smaller and possibly not even noticeable to others, but it's always there reminding you of the pain.)

"Hey Mom, how you doing? What's up?"

"Honey, I have called you about 4 times now, where were you?"

"I was in yoga the first couple of times you called and I usually turn my phone on vibrate during class so it doesn't go off. Then, I came home and took a nap because I was exhausted. So, I just got up and realized I hadn't turned my phone off of vibrate. Sorry, I missed you."

"Honey, I am at the hospital." (with obvious signs of distress in her voice)

"WHAT! What happened?!"

"Your dad fell at work and he hit his head. They brought him in an ambulance to Kaweah Delta, but they are not sure if they can keep him here because they don't have a neurosurgeon at this hospital and because of the CT-scan, there is swelling in his brain and he needs to be moved to Fresno. I don't know what to do."

**Now my dad had a history of falling because he had smoked for most of his life which lead to COPD and beginning signs of emphysema. He would start coughing, black out, and fall usually hitting his head on something. I always worried that one time it would be really bad, but my dad was stubborn and he rarely allowed you to know how much pain he was really in. There were times he hit his head on the corner of the bathroom counter and instead of allowing himself a trip to the doctor, he would tell my mom to butterfly bandage it up and call it a day. He wasn't a complainer, that's for sure!!

"Well, you need to go wherever they say right now. Is anyone with you? Can you ride with him in the ambulance?"

"June came with me to Kaweah, but I don't want to ask her to go all the way up to Fresno with me. They had to intubate him and when he got here, he didn't know what was happening. What do I do?"

"I think you should ask someone to come with you to Fresno. Mom, you don't need to drive alone all the way up there like this. I don't want to worry whether you are ok too! Mom, what happened, do you know?"

"Dad was working a job (he lays carpet) just down the street. The owner of the house was in the garage and dad went out to his truck for a break or something. They chatted for a brief second and then went about their business. The next thing he knew, dad was lying down half in the street and half on the curb. He asked him if he was ok and dad said, 'Yeah, I just fell, I will be ok.' The owner brought him a chair from the garage to sit on in the grass for a couple of minutes. He went back into the house to get him a drink of water. When he came back he noticed that dad didn't look so good. He was calling Roxy....Jamie (Roxy is his dog and Jamie is me, his daughter) and was muttering things that didn't make much sense. He told dad that he was gonna call an ambulance. They came very quickly to the house, asked dad some questions, told him they thought he should go to the hospital, but dad refused. 'I will be ok. I just need a couple of minutes.' So, they left and the owner told dad he wanted to drive him home at least. Dad almost refused, but realized it would be better than him trying to drive. The owner went back into the house to get his keys and when he made it back outside, just minutes later, dad was trying to light a carpet nail for a cigarette. Immediately he knew he had to call 911 again and get them back to the house, something wasn't right."

"Mom, mom, wait, I want to hear all of this, but first, I am coming there. Let me start packing real quick and I will call you as soon as I get in the car. (I live in Escondido and my parents live in Visalia, it's about a 4 1/2 hour drive.)

"Jamie, wait, don't come right now. Let's see what the doctors say and then you decide when you want to come. We don't know enough right now."

"Mom, seriously, I know that my dad fell, hit his head, needs a neurosurgeon so is being transferred to a bigger city than Visalia....that's enough for me. I am coming and will be there as soon as possible. Be strong for dad, be safe for me and I will call you back soon."

WOW!! Since 1995, phone calls at random times have always been a little stressful for me. You see, my mom was in a serious car accident July 31st, 1995 (4 days after my 18th bday) and I can still remember that phone call like it was yesterday. She spent 10 days in the hospital, I never left her side except to take showers and 2 days after she was released from the hospital, I drove myself up to start double days for college volleyball. I was not about to sit at home while my dad was being rushed to Fresno, that's just not my style.

As I threw clothes in a suitcase, I was grateful for many things....my husband helping me by saying, 'yes, go, we will be fine,' my mom being of similar size as me in case I forgot to bring anything, a cell phone so I could call my mom right back, my kids for understanding that mommy needed to go be with Papa and the "not-so-random anymore" 2 1/2 hour nap the Lord just gave me! The drive up felt like it took an eternity, as you can imagine. I also had to drive 35 minutes past my parents house to get to the hospital in Fresno where they had transferred my dad. During my almost 5 hour drive, I learned that my dad had a subdural hematoma, they had to put screws in his head to try to relieve some of the pressure and he was in a drug-induced coma for the pain. I was starting to conjure up ideas of what he was going to look like when I saw him, but coudn't possibly fathom the reality!

It was about 10pm when I finally arrived at the hospital. My mom met me outside the hospital to walk me up to the Critical Care Unit. We hugged and cried together outside, but I had to remain strong for my mom and dad, they both needed me. We headed up to the 5th floor to see my dad. Here is what we walked into....

My dad was hooked up to every machine known to man, his face so swollen from being pumped full of medicine and the injury itself. He was lifeless really, just a frame of a strong man I so desparately loved and NEEDED to recover fully. I immediately grabbed his sausage fingers, squeezed his hand and kissed his face to let him know that I had made it and everything was going to be ok. I knew it looked really bad, but he was going to make it, maybe it would take a few days, but I was ready for the journey. Mom and I sat by his bedside most of the night. We waited to talk to the doctors and see what was happening with my dad. This would be the beginning of trying to decifer what the doctors were saying and wanting so desparately to just fix everything. They couldn't tell us much other than he was going to be in a drug-induced coma for several days until the swelling went down, but he could hear that we were there and they encouraged us to talk to him as much as possible (when he wasn't resting, of course).

We stayed at the hospital until 2:30am when the nurses told us we needed to go get some sleep. At this point, how do you leave and actually sleep?? We didn't want to drive all the way home at this hour and were not familiar with this part of Fresno. I guess we just drive and look for a hotel room. We didn't want to spend a bunch of money for the couple of hours we were going to allow ourselves to sleep, so just look for something cheap. We happened upon an America's Best Value Hotel and they had an available room. We didn't really care about comfort at this point, just any bed to lay on would do...and that is ALL we got!!