The longest day

Yesterday when we got to the hospital, Dad had begrudgenly eaten some oatmeal, had a protein drink, and was doing okay. His breathing was still rough but eventually the pulmonary specialist came in and said that his right lung was almost collapsed and that they would have to basically stick a huge needle in his back and get some of the fluid out. And, for the second time in two days, they mentioned the words that sent a chill down my spine:

Possible congestive heart failure.

But we wouldn't have an answer until they could draw the fluid out and see how responsive he was. So we waited around all day to see when the procedure would be done.

Just before lunchtime, Dad wanted to get up and use the toilet. It took two nurses and me to get him up and when he sat on the toilet he was so weak that he kept slumping to his right side. We got him up, put him upright in the chair, and fed him a little lunch which he was totally disinterested in. Finally, he drifted off to sleep.

And he slept in a coma-like state for the rest of the day. The nurses were so concerned that they called a neurologist to consult. Things did not look good.

I ended up calling one of my best friends who had been through this two years ago when his mom died. I'll save the advice for another time, but what he said was a comfort and I knew that it was time for me to put this in God's hands and stop being so selfish and wanting Dad to hang on because I wanted him to.

My sister and I ran out to get some takeout Italian since we couldn't bear to eat the pre-chewed cafeteria food yet another night and we had a glass of wine while we waited. We talked about Dad and how great of a life he's had.

We ate, and then I took Mom home. At 8:30, my sister called and said that Dad's blood pressure was dropping rapidly and we needed to get back to the hospital. We raced back, and found that his blood pressure was very low and we weren't sure if he was going to make it through the night.

Around 9:30, one of the aides came to get Dad for the CAT scan. Mom and I went along and as we sat in the hall, we were both so numb we couldn't even talk. He hadn't been awake for ten hours at this point, and there was no sign that he would ever wake up.

At 10:30, the aide brought Dad back up to the room and shut the door while he got Dad back in the bed. The three of us huddled outside, wondering what was going to happen next. We called our brothers and told them that they needed to come because the situation had become so grave.

The door opened.

My father was sitting up, eyes wide open, and waving at us.

It was like he'd just taken a little nap and nothing had happened.

Blood pressure was back to normal, all his vitals are great, all the bloodwork came back fine. The neurologist did give him some Heparin because they suspected a possible mini-stroke.

And my dad, awake for the first time in hours, ate a cup of ice cream and drank a can of ginger ale. And then watched Fox News.

I swear to God, it was the strangest and longest day of my life.

The three of us spent the night by his side. He would pop his eyes open and check to see if we were still there, ask for some juice, pat our hands. It was like nothing had ever happened.

The fluid-drawing will be tomorrow if things go well. I am hoping that it will. I don't really know what to expect at this point - I'm trying to stay optimistic, but realistic at the same time. He is 84 and has been through so much in the past 13 days that I don't know how much strength he has left.

I have put this in God's hands. I've been so very lucky to have had this time with him that I have cherished every moment, but I don't want him to suffer anymore. All I want is for him to be comfortable and at peace, no matter what the outcome is.

Please pray for us.