On Christmas Eve, my father had brain surgery, a quick procedure to drain a subdural hematoma.
Instead, we started 2018 wondering whether my father would be with us much longer.
Twelve hours after the hospital released Dad, he was back in the emergency room with stroke-like symptoms. The hospital helicoptered him to a superior stroke center in our capital city.
And we waited.
For the first week, Dad was strapped to the bed. Unconscious. Pumped full of anti-seizure drugs. Kept alive by a ventilator. Fed through a feeding tube.
Doctors and nurses came in every hour, trying to see what remained. More than once, they left with heads hanging. Seasoned medical professionals avoided our eyes. We stood vigil by his bed, buoyed by every squeeze of a hand or flutter of eyelids.
Two weeks passed. Dad was still out of it in ICU.
When he decided he had more life to live, he progressed like a hot shot. A clean swallow test was his final hurdle. Last Thursday, he headed to rehabilitation.
My father claims his goal is to do everything he once did.
I’ll keep you posted as he progresses.
I wasn’t ready to lose Dad. We still have more memories to make. His unmatched personality was missing in every conversation, along lonesome corridors, in too-quiet rooms. My mother vows she’ll never again tell Dad he’s talking too much. He can set the television volume as loud as he wants.
I’m sure he’s recording our every concession somewhere. Making us deliver will likely be enough to keep him breathing for a few more years.
Thank you for your calls, texts, messages, and cards. When Dad woke up, he was bowled over by how much he matters to you.
14 Comments
Yep. This is really good news. Thanks for sharing.
I’m relieved to finally have some good news on the Dad front. Things were pretty bleak for a while.
Tell Roy that I’m his biggest fan, and that I’m pulling for him everyday. I could just picture him getting stronger as he overhears your concessions. Finally, cookies and loud tv without the nagging! Lol. Good Lord, he’ll live to be 100 now.
We can only hope. Ha. I’ll read your comment to him. These kinds of messages are rocket fuel. How’s your grandmother?
Thinking of you and your dad on the Natchez Trace…I don’t think I’ve laughed and cried so much reading one book! You two are special. Sending lots of big giant bear hugs to you both! And Dad…h al quickly so you can make more memories with that fabulous daughter of yours! ?❤️
I’m giving him these messages. He’s over the moon that so many people care about him. Thanks so much for big giant bear hugs. xo
Tell Roy it’s Girl Scout cookie time!! I hope and pray he recovers quickly with no lasting effects.
He’s making great progress. Thanks.
He’s a fighter! I imagine he is keeping the rehab staff under his story telling spell!
He’s talking much better now and is more himself. He gets stuck on certain topics. Yesterday, it was what we’re doing for his sister. Long story. Sigh. I’m living for a day when my life gets easier.
Glad to hear that your dad is doing better. Does the rehabilitation center know what they are getting into? ? I’m sure he will brighten the mood and maybe sell some books.
Last night, he told me he’d sold books at the hospital in Columbia AND was telling everyone about it at the rehab center. He’s so freaking proud of that book about him. Ha.
Am so happy that he is finally ok , I wonder the kind of pains you must have passed through. May all your lost strengths be renewed.
It’s been a dreadful start to 2018 for our household. I’m hopeful things will stay on an upward trajectory now.
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