Making It Look Easy
Only my dad can make quadruple bypass surgery look easy.
He went in the hospital on Friday, it's now Sunday night and they say he might get to go home tomorrow. When I arrived at the hospital Friday around 11am, I went immediately to the Cardiac ICU. I met Pam, my dad's wife, in the waiting room. She was pretty upset as you might expect but glad to see me. She said that he spent over 2 hours in surgery, his heart is pumping and so far, so good.
Visiting hours for the ICU unit are every 2 hours for 30 minutes; 12, 2, 4, 6, and so on all night long. My first visit in to see him was pretty shocking. He had a gazillion tubes hooked to him, had a ventilator in his mouth and looked really swollen and pale. He wasn't breathing on his own. Besides his chest going up and down with forced breaths, he didn't move. I wanted to touch him but was too scared. I met his first nurse, Holly. She was really friendly and tried to assure us that he was okay.
As I left ICU, it hit me. I didn't burst into tears, falter under the stress or go into hysterics but the weight of the situation settled on me hard. I couldn't bear sitting in the tense waiting room with the other families, so we went to the cafeteria for a drink. We somehow got lost in conversation catching up on the last few months until it was time for our 4:00 visit with Dad.
He looked the same but was moving some. He'd wiggle his toes and fingers, a definite sign of life. I was reluctant but Pam reached out to touch his hand as she talked to him. I wasn't sure if it was just wishful thinking but he seemed to be following her commands. He'd wiggle his toes and squeeze her hand when she asked. He kept sticking his tongue out over and over. I thought maybe he was trying to get the ventilator out of his mouth but he later said that he was trying to communicate. Pam told him that I was there. She said I had red hair and he scrunched up his nose as if to say "What?" He looked just as bad as the first visit, he couldn't open his eyes, but was definitely in there. So reassuring!
This hospital is really confusing. Pam and I kept getting lost in the hallways. We finally found the parking garage but then couldn't find the car. When you enter the parking garage, they give you a ticket. If you get it stamped inside the hospital, they won't charge you. We kept either losing the tickets or forgetting to get it stamped.
We found a really nice hotel not 10 minutes down the road, checked in and rushed right back to the hospital. During the next visit, he opened his eyes but they kept slamming shut like he hadn't slept in weeks. He would nod his head yes, no or shrug his shoulders to communicate. We asked if he was in pain, he nodded NO. He squeezed my hand as I talked to him and even looked at us, crossed his eyes making a funny face before his lids slammed shut for a good laugh. He did that several times trying to lift our spirits as if saying lighten up, everything's okay. Towards the end of our visit, he tried to tell me something. I somehow guessed that his neck hurt from being in the same position for so long. His nurse moved cords so he could move his head to alleviate the pain in his neck. It felt really good to help. At this point, he wasn't totally dependent on the ventilator. He had to initiate breaths and then the ventilator kicked in to assist. When he'd dose off, he sometimes would forget to breathe like Sleep Apnea. When he stopped breathing, bells would go off waking Dad and alerting the nurse. It was scary to watch.
Back in the waiting room, Pam's phone was ringing off the hook with people wanting to know how Dad was doing. She didn't feel like talking to everyone repeating the details of Dad's condition. I offered to update everyone by leaving updates on the voicemail of her cell phone. It worked like a charm. As people called and got her voicemail, my voice would greet them and give full details on how he was doing. Some people would leave messages, others didn't but all were kept well informed.
At the 8:00 visit, we came in to find Dad sitting up with the help of his bed trying to talk to his nurse. He was fully alert with his eyes wide open. He mouthed the word "Swallow" and was demanding the ventilator come out. He wasn't getting through to his nurse so he motioned for a pen and paper. He wrote what everyone already knew, he wanted the ventilator out. He was still forgetting to breathe some when asleep. But in true Dad form, he won the battle and against their better judgment, they pulled the ventilator. They warned him that if he forgets to breathe too much, they'd have to put it back in and start all over. His voice was raspy from the ventilator and anesthesia, but he could finally talk to us. Dad asked us to stay past ICU curfew to help keep him awake so he wouldn't forget to breathe. The RN, Robert, was really cool and let us stay.
As we hung out, Dad told us that before he came to, he could hear everything going on. I couldn't believe it because earlier in the day he looked 100% checked out. He said that when we were talking, we sounded like a couple of "Mag Pies." He's still talking funny from the drugs and I thought he said a couple of Bag Pipes. I didn't know what Mag Pies were. I found out they are birds who continually chatter. I guess our rambling did sound like that. All I know was that we were told to talk to him even though he was comatose. That's really hard, what do you say? Do you tell him what's going on in case he's confused? Do you tell him how much you love him, just in case? Either way, he doesn't respond and it feels like you're talking to air. Dad continued to nod off as we were talking. He'd forget to breathe some and the bells would start ringing. As we left, I was worried they'd have to put the dreaded ventilator back in.
When we came back, it was 10pm. He was still without the ventilator. He told us not to stay at the hospital all night but get some sleep at the hotel, he was fine. We stayed with him until a little after 11pm and then went to the hotel. I couldn't believe the improvements he made each time we were allowed to visit throughout the day. It was like night and day.
When we arrived the next morning, he was sitting in the recliner in ICU eating breakfast. They had removed more tubes and were ready to move him out of ICU as soon as a bed was available in the Cardiac Observation Unit. We continued to have great nurses and nurse assistants who not only joked around with us but also let Pam and I stay as long as we wanted.
He was moved out of ICU late Saturday afternoon, continued to eat a little and stayed in good spirits. We all hung out that night watching TV, listening to music on my computer and just enjoying each other's company. As Pam and I got ready for bed at the hotel, we both agreed that it's too bad that nowadays it takes something as serious as open heart surgery to make us put life on hold, travel the miles between us and spend time as if it's the last day we can.
It's Sunday night and for the most part, he's had a good day. He's still not eating much because his stomach is swollen and bloated. Today, his stomach has really bothered him and it's getting worse the later it gets. The nurses have given him medicine so hopefully it'll help.
Since January, he's had attacks where the room starts spinning, he becomes extremely nauseous and just feels extremely bad. It usually happens in the mornings which many times puts him out of commission for the rest of the day. He's had moments of dizziness since the surgery but tonight had a full blown attack. (It reminds me of a panic attack) He's frustrated thinking he just endured major surgery but still won't feel better. I'm hoping the dizziness and nausea is from the surgery and pain meds on an empty stomach.
Regardless, he has rebound unbelievably fast and I'm heading home tomorrow knowing that he's well on his way to recovery.
He went in the hospital on Friday, it's now Sunday night and they say he might get to go home tomorrow. When I arrived at the hospital Friday around 11am, I went immediately to the Cardiac ICU. I met Pam, my dad's wife, in the waiting room. She was pretty upset as you might expect but glad to see me. She said that he spent over 2 hours in surgery, his heart is pumping and so far, so good.
Visiting hours for the ICU unit are every 2 hours for 30 minutes; 12, 2, 4, 6, and so on all night long. My first visit in to see him was pretty shocking. He had a gazillion tubes hooked to him, had a ventilator in his mouth and looked really swollen and pale. He wasn't breathing on his own. Besides his chest going up and down with forced breaths, he didn't move. I wanted to touch him but was too scared. I met his first nurse, Holly. She was really friendly and tried to assure us that he was okay.
As I left ICU, it hit me. I didn't burst into tears, falter under the stress or go into hysterics but the weight of the situation settled on me hard. I couldn't bear sitting in the tense waiting room with the other families, so we went to the cafeteria for a drink. We somehow got lost in conversation catching up on the last few months until it was time for our 4:00 visit with Dad.
He looked the same but was moving some. He'd wiggle his toes and fingers, a definite sign of life. I was reluctant but Pam reached out to touch his hand as she talked to him. I wasn't sure if it was just wishful thinking but he seemed to be following her commands. He'd wiggle his toes and squeeze her hand when she asked. He kept sticking his tongue out over and over. I thought maybe he was trying to get the ventilator out of his mouth but he later said that he was trying to communicate. Pam told him that I was there. She said I had red hair and he scrunched up his nose as if to say "What?" He looked just as bad as the first visit, he couldn't open his eyes, but was definitely in there. So reassuring!
This hospital is really confusing. Pam and I kept getting lost in the hallways. We finally found the parking garage but then couldn't find the car. When you enter the parking garage, they give you a ticket. If you get it stamped inside the hospital, they won't charge you. We kept either losing the tickets or forgetting to get it stamped.
We found a really nice hotel not 10 minutes down the road, checked in and rushed right back to the hospital. During the next visit, he opened his eyes but they kept slamming shut like he hadn't slept in weeks. He would nod his head yes, no or shrug his shoulders to communicate. We asked if he was in pain, he nodded NO. He squeezed my hand as I talked to him and even looked at us, crossed his eyes making a funny face before his lids slammed shut for a good laugh. He did that several times trying to lift our spirits as if saying lighten up, everything's okay. Towards the end of our visit, he tried to tell me something. I somehow guessed that his neck hurt from being in the same position for so long. His nurse moved cords so he could move his head to alleviate the pain in his neck. It felt really good to help. At this point, he wasn't totally dependent on the ventilator. He had to initiate breaths and then the ventilator kicked in to assist. When he'd dose off, he sometimes would forget to breathe like Sleep Apnea. When he stopped breathing, bells would go off waking Dad and alerting the nurse. It was scary to watch.
Back in the waiting room, Pam's phone was ringing off the hook with people wanting to know how Dad was doing. She didn't feel like talking to everyone repeating the details of Dad's condition. I offered to update everyone by leaving updates on the voicemail of her cell phone. It worked like a charm. As people called and got her voicemail, my voice would greet them and give full details on how he was doing. Some people would leave messages, others didn't but all were kept well informed.
At the 8:00 visit, we came in to find Dad sitting up with the help of his bed trying to talk to his nurse. He was fully alert with his eyes wide open. He mouthed the word "Swallow" and was demanding the ventilator come out. He wasn't getting through to his nurse so he motioned for a pen and paper. He wrote what everyone already knew, he wanted the ventilator out. He was still forgetting to breathe some when asleep. But in true Dad form, he won the battle and against their better judgment, they pulled the ventilator. They warned him that if he forgets to breathe too much, they'd have to put it back in and start all over. His voice was raspy from the ventilator and anesthesia, but he could finally talk to us. Dad asked us to stay past ICU curfew to help keep him awake so he wouldn't forget to breathe. The RN, Robert, was really cool and let us stay.
As we hung out, Dad told us that before he came to, he could hear everything going on. I couldn't believe it because earlier in the day he looked 100% checked out. He said that when we were talking, we sounded like a couple of "Mag Pies." He's still talking funny from the drugs and I thought he said a couple of Bag Pipes. I didn't know what Mag Pies were. I found out they are birds who continually chatter. I guess our rambling did sound like that. All I know was that we were told to talk to him even though he was comatose. That's really hard, what do you say? Do you tell him what's going on in case he's confused? Do you tell him how much you love him, just in case? Either way, he doesn't respond and it feels like you're talking to air. Dad continued to nod off as we were talking. He'd forget to breathe some and the bells would start ringing. As we left, I was worried they'd have to put the dreaded ventilator back in.
When we came back, it was 10pm. He was still without the ventilator. He told us not to stay at the hospital all night but get some sleep at the hotel, he was fine. We stayed with him until a little after 11pm and then went to the hotel. I couldn't believe the improvements he made each time we were allowed to visit throughout the day. It was like night and day.
When we arrived the next morning, he was sitting in the recliner in ICU eating breakfast. They had removed more tubes and were ready to move him out of ICU as soon as a bed was available in the Cardiac Observation Unit. We continued to have great nurses and nurse assistants who not only joked around with us but also let Pam and I stay as long as we wanted.
He was moved out of ICU late Saturday afternoon, continued to eat a little and stayed in good spirits. We all hung out that night watching TV, listening to music on my computer and just enjoying each other's company. As Pam and I got ready for bed at the hotel, we both agreed that it's too bad that nowadays it takes something as serious as open heart surgery to make us put life on hold, travel the miles between us and spend time as if it's the last day we can.
It's Sunday night and for the most part, he's had a good day. He's still not eating much because his stomach is swollen and bloated. Today, his stomach has really bothered him and it's getting worse the later it gets. The nurses have given him medicine so hopefully it'll help.
Since January, he's had attacks where the room starts spinning, he becomes extremely nauseous and just feels extremely bad. It usually happens in the mornings which many times puts him out of commission for the rest of the day. He's had moments of dizziness since the surgery but tonight had a full blown attack. (It reminds me of a panic attack) He's frustrated thinking he just endured major surgery but still won't feel better. I'm hoping the dizziness and nausea is from the surgery and pain meds on an empty stomach.
Regardless, he has rebound unbelievably fast and I'm heading home tomorrow knowing that he's well on his way to recovery.
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