Father’s Day Excitement

Wow, it’s been 11 days since I last posted. Right in the middle the tales of my UK Trip, I stop and leave everyone hanging…well, all five of you who read this blog. My apologies. Stuff happened. You see, on Father’s Day, June 18, I called my dad to wish him a happy Father’s Day. No answer. So, I left a cheery message wishing him a Happy Father’s Day and hoping he was out having fun. I learned later that each of my siblings did likewise. We were to meet my son-in-law, daughter, and their kids for breakfast at 9:30. We arrived a bit early, took our seats, and awaited their arrival. A few minutes later, our daughter and grandkids arrived sans our son-in-law. Daughter was visibly upset. When asked where SIL was, she looked at me and said “he drove your dad to the hospital in Coeur d’Alene”. Naturally, a million questions went through my mind. The obvious one finally popped out “what’s wrong?” She explained that my dad had called very early that morning and said simply “I’m in the ER and I need a ride to the hospital in Coeur d’Alene”, to which SIL responded “I’ll be right there”. He promised Daughter he’d call before he left town to tell her what was going on. An hour passed and he had still not called, so she called him. He was already in Coeur d’Alene. The fact that he’d not called first didn’t sit too well with Daughter. He explained that my dad had asked him not to say anything to anyone until they knew what was wrong for sure. Turns out, he had been having chest pains for a few days, but he thought they were gas pains. They got really bad Saturday night, but he refused to go to the ER. Early Sunday AM (they got to the ER at 5:30 so it must have been 3:30 a.m. or so) he finally relented and drove himself and my stepmom to the ER. Apparently, after an EKG and some other tests, the ER doc wasn’t sure what was wrong. He called the cardiologist in Coeur d’Alene and discussed the case with him. That doctor told him to send my dad down to Kootenai Medical Center (KMC) so he could check him out. They wanted to put him in an ambulance, but for some reason still unknown to me, he refused. It was at that point he called SIL.

Why not call me, you might ask? I wondered the same thing. I alternated between furious and worried. Needless to say, my appetite was ruined and the $15 buffet breakfast went to waste. SIL called Daughter a little later saying they still didn’t know what was wrong for sure. Daughter and SIL had a heated discussion about keeping secrets and not letting family members in on what was happening. SIL was caught in the middle, really. Finally, mid-afternoon, SIL called Daughter to tell her my dad needed bypass surgery. He had six blocked arteries. I immediately called SIL’s cell phone and got voice mail. I basically said “this is not cataract surgery, this is “you could die” surgery”. I want to know what’s going on so someone needs to call me as soon as possible.” Moments later, I got a call from my stepmother. She told me what I already knew – my dad had six blocked arteries. It was a miracle he hadn’t had a heart attack, wasn’t dead, and had no heart damage. The surgery was scheduled for Monday at 10 a.m. I asked why SIL was called instead of me and was told it’s because I’m too excitable. What that means is, I would probably cry when told my dad needed to go to ER, and I would probably be worried and/or scared, but I would have been completely capable of driving him to the hospital without freaking out. I do maintain my composure quite well in emergencies. I can’t help the tears. They just come. My real frustration was that my dad hadn’t taken an ambulance to KMC. What if he’d had a heart attack en route? I was left to fume while my stepmother went on to make other calls. I needed to call my siblings. Fortunately, the doctors said they expected an excellent result.

At 9:40 p.m. I got a call from my stepmother. Dad was going into surgery right away. He’d gotten worse as the day had progressed. Now I was scared. And I hadn’t been able to talk to my dad at all since all this had started – another reason I was upset at not being called first thing. What if…. I called my brother and sister on the west coast, but not my sister in the Midwest. It was too late. Besides, the surgery was supposed to last 4 or 5 hours and was pretty routine. I tried to sleep. It didn’t go too well. At 6:30 a.m. my stepmother called. Dad was out of surgery. It had lasted 8 hours. They had had a very difficult time finding enough veins in his legs to use for the bypass. I found out later he had 18 incisions where they’d tried to get veins. His veins are crap – small, not very elastic. Aside from that, it had gone well. He would be unconscious for most of the day. I had to go to Spokane that afternoon anyway, so I told her I’d stop by briefly en route to see him, conscious or not.

I had many conversations with siblings over the course of the next few days. High cholesterol runs in our family. My paternal grandfather died of a heart attack in 1973 at age 75. My dad’s sister also died of a heart attack several years ago. I think she was in her 70’s. My dad’s remaining brother and sister are fine, and both are quickly approaching 80. I just found out that my uncle takes cholesterol lowering medication. My dad does not, though his cholesterol is 325. I suspect that will change. My brother informed me that his cholesterol is 320. He is not on medication either. I will work on that when he visits me next week.

I saw my dad that Monday. His eyes were open, he was nodding to me, and he squeezed my hand, but I doubt he really knew it was me. He was on a ventilator so he couldn’t speak. They were in the process of weaning him off of it and it was going slowly. As it turned out, it took several days to get him off of it. In fact, his entire recovery is taking a bit longer than they had thought it would take, but he is doing well. He has had atrial fibrillations, where your upper chamber of your heart beats faster than the lower chamber. They are not uncommon after heart surgery, usually brought on by the irritation of the surgery. They make him dizzy, nauseated and sweaty. He’s had a tough time getting enough rest because of it. He has been up and walking on his own a few times, and the doctors say he may go home in the next couple of days. That is great news, but a bit worrisome because he lives in a very remote setting, 9 miles from the nearest town, and 45 miles from the nearest hospital, on a private dirt road. My stepmom doesn’t really drive anymore, and she’s a tiny thing, so I don’t know how she will help my dad get around. I don’t know what their plans are. I did visit Dad the day they moved him from ICU to CCU. He was awake, though drifting in and out of sleep, and could speak a few words. His throat hurt from the ventilator and he couldn’t catch enough breath to talk for very long. I told him I loved him and I was praying for a speedy recovery. I know he’s disappointed in himself. He looks at this surgery as some sort of sign of weakness I think. He has always prided himself in being such a tough guy. Sometimes God has a way of showing us just how human we really are.

So, between dad’s surgery and the insane workload at work lately, I’ve had to leave you hanging in regard to the UK trip narrative. I’m sorry. I’ll get back to it as soon as I can. There is so much more to tell.