**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.
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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.
