I’m not even sure where to begin this, so I’m just going to type.
On Friday evening the boys, hubs and I headed north to my father’s home. Parker had an early archery shoot Saturday morning and I didn’t want to have to get up at seven to get there in time. Much easier to head down the night before. We had a good evening. Headed out into the boonies to set up the 3D targets, I took pictures of the bears and Lions. I was planning a post all about us going on a safari. I spent some time bitching and moaning about the bugs. There were a lot of bugs that night. I asked my dad if he could “Do something about the bugs for tomorrow morning” He laughed.
After the shoot site was ready we all went back to dads. He was tired, he went to bed shortly after we got home. Micah and I stayed up pretty late. Seven AM the bedroom door opened, and a man poked his head in.
“Shannon. Shannon. Wake up. I have something important to tell you. Your dad is in the hospital.”
Dad had gone to work early, then drove around staking the direction signs for the shoot. Halfway through putting up the signs he came home. he complained of heartburn, took a few Tums and laid down. Then he got back up and asked his wife to drive him to the hospital. I love that woman. I’m not sure I’ve told her that. But I do.
He was having his first heart attack then. Not quite what I meant when I said do something about the bugs. I was thinking bug spray.
My Step mother had called a family friend to go to the house and wake us up.
It was bad.
I’m not a fan of people who speed. I think people should go the posted limits, no more, no less.
No matter.
I drove 150 (KM not Miles) to the hospital. I followed the ambulance from the small town hospital to the big city. I had to stop and talk to a few people before I could follow, but I made it to the hospital about 7 minutes after the ambulance. I drove fast. It felt like I was crawling. I thought I would never get there.
It’s really all a blur. I can, if I sit down, pick apart what happened minute by minute, but I rather like it better blurry.
I’m scared I will never get the image of how he looked when I first got to the small town hospital out of my head. My step mother was in the hall crying. The door was half shut but I pushed it open. The nurses and doctors were quite. Working on charts. Whispering. He was so pale. So white. Motionless.
I though he was already dead.
I was. ..It was… I just thought, not consciously, I don’t think… But it never occurred to me that my dad would ever get sick. That he would ever be this sick. This still. Have I ever seen him this still? I don’t think I have.You know. I think I assumed we got a free pass because of my mom. I mean. Kids need two parents so that if something happens to one of them, they still have another. So how could this possibly be MY dad laying there, paler than the sheets he was on. So still. So very very still. WHY was this MY dad? It’s not right.
And then he opened his eyes so very slowly – he had been sedated- and looked at me. And I cried. Just that once. That first time seeing him there, so so so so sick. I cried.
Then I was good. I was OK. In control. I slipped for a minute, but I got it back. Steady, Steady.
He had a second heart attack minutes after arriving at the big city hospital. I had just gotten into the CCU when the nurse came to get us.
“He’s having chest pains. He’s having another one”
They got us, I think, because he was so close. They wanted us to have had that last chance to say good bye, maybe.
One doctor was explaining the risks of the procedure they needed to do to him. I remember him saying that one of the risks was death, but at this point, he strongly recommended dad sign the papers and head to the Cath Lab.
This point. It’s a scary place to be.
Two more heart attacks as they put two stents in his right artery.
Dad asked later. Not the same day, the next, How many did I have? We knew for sure he had had those four heart attacks, but the doctor would not answer. Didn’t want him to worry about it. “We’re going to concentrate on getting better now”
Test results started flying back. Even though at his physical three months ago everything looked great, his blood sugar was off. Type ..something. two? Diabetes. Five needles a day for the rest of his life. Heart disease. 90 percent blockage here. Another stent was put in this afternoon. This time on the left.
It all runs together. The days. The hours outside smoking. The cups of coffee. The trips down to the CCU to pretend everything is going to be all right.
And it will all be OK. He told me so.
Still. I’m running out of things to do and say to make the people around me laugh. I need them to laugh. To smile and joke.If the don’t laugh, I’m going to lose that tiny thread of control. I’m not sure I will be able to grab it again. And I think if start crying again, I might never stop.
∗ Posted by bluepaintred on 07.06.2009
∗ Uncategorized
xoxoxoxooxxo!! me
Comment by kristiiiii - July 6, 2009 11:43 pm
I know it’s tough, but hang in there.
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Comment by Christine - July 6, 2009 11:44 pm
xoxox..
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Comment by Chrissi - July 6, 2009 11:57 pm
As for laughter, if I see something funny, I’ll pass it to you.
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Comment by Sans Pantaloons - July 7, 2009 5:46 am
I hope everything turns out okay, Shannon. Hang in there.
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(((hugs)))
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Comment by Nobody™ - July 7, 2009 6:57 am
Hang in there. Sending good vibes.
XXX
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Comment by LeSombre - July 7, 2009 7:39 am
wisdom for the medical staff to know and do what’s needed
patience and resilience for your dad during his recovery
comfort and strength for you, your (not-evil)step-mom, and the rest of the family
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Comment by Karen Sugarpants - July 7, 2009 12:32 pm
Funny..hmmm…funny….I hit an armadillo on the way to work this morning, I don’t think I killed it because when I glanced in the rear view mirror he was spinning on his back and his little legs were wiggling…looked like he was flipping me off or something…
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Prayers for all of you.
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Many hugs!
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