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.
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