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.
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