Update On Dad

My dad is strong, he is a fighter.  Every morning since I have come to the hospital amazed at the progress he is making.  Every day his facial swelling diminishes, his coloring returns to normal, he becomes more and more aware and engaged with us. 

Day 1 Friday:  The longest day of all - he was moved from ER to and MRI to Surgery and finally to ICU. Facial lacerations were stitched up, he remained stable and sleeping most of the day.

Day 2 Saturday:  Consisted of getting his oxygen levels  stabilized.  They had to use a trumpet (large tube stuck into nostril) to keep an air way open and avert sleep apnea.  He began markedly improving once he was able to sleep with out being woken up because he couldn't breath.  Did an x-ray at 60 degrees and later did another at 90 degrees, both while sitting in his bed.  He was needing to take some pills and was trying to take them himself, further proof of how determined he is.

Day 3 Sunday:  Continued improvement in the swelling and coloration of his face.  Rested a lot.  They took him to radiology in his bed, then moved him to a wheel chair for a sitting x-ray. He once again showed us his determination to get better by trying to get out of bed and get into a wheel chair when told they were taking him down stairs for an x-ray, though he didn't fight it when they told him to stay put  and would take him down in his bed. The progression of x-rays are to determine how stable his C-2 fracture is and if surgery is necessary.

Day 4 Monday: Dad was alert and interacting a lot more today.  My brother Nate made it over from Denver for the day, and this seemed to lift dad's spirits a lot.  Dad stood and took his first steps - with a walker and support from the PT.  He had us all in laughs when he stood and asked " where's the machine" meaning the x-ray - he had assumed it was time for his standing x-ray, and when the PT told him he would have to go down stairs for that my dad just slid his eyes to the PT and said "F-You" and he didn't mince his words when asked how standing felt- he replied "Like Shit!"  Fortunately his ornery smirk could be seen at the corner of his lips, and we all knew dad was still dad.  The whole process of standing, walking and returning to the bed was quite painful and wore him out quickly, he slept the rest of the evening. They started weening him off of his pain meds today.

My brother Nate and I concealing our laughter at Dad's comments, while Nik had to leave because he couldn't contain his laughter.

 



Before I left the hospital today, dad did is best to give me a hug and kiss. I told him how strong he was and how much he improves every day.  His response was to do a little jig in bed - moving his arms like he was dancing... I told him I'd bring the XBox tomorrow so he could play Dance Dance Revolution- got a huge smile.

Day 5 Tuesday:  More progress, dad got up and walked again, made it downstairs (took him down in his bed since he had already walked a few steps) for his standing x-ray, ate mashed potatoes and gravy.  He slept more restless last night probably due to decrease in pain meds- he was complaining of his neck hurting and being stiff. They took his collar off and cleaned up his chin and neck a bit.

 

 

I am amazed at his progress in just 5 days.  

The Day that Began and Ended at Safeway: With a Disaster in the Between

Friday morning, March 8, 2013, started as a typical teacher work day, I let myself sleep until I awoke on my own, then headed to Safeway to grab some fixins for our staff pot-luck luncheon- and of course treat myself to a Starbucks.

There was no urgency in my commute to work this morning as I had - miraculously- finished all grading (over 100 tests with multiple concepts to score) AND entered and submitted the 3rd quarter grades all before I left school for the day on Thursday.

While busying myself with house keeping tasks in my classroom my phone rang.  Seeing it was my little brother Nik, whose wife is expecting a baby girl in a few short weeks, I answered the phone in an excited auntie voice- expecting the baby call.

Confusion set in... why was his voice so shaky and sad.... this didn't match my expectations... as the words he spoke settled into comprehension, my heart stopped... my dad had been in an accident, he had a broken neck, and was currently in the ER. ....No, not the happy baby phone call I had been prepared for.

The drive from Palisade to St. Mary's has never seemed so long, I don't think there has been a time where so many thoughts passed through my head in such a short amount of time. Was he paralyzed, was he critical, was he stable, would he walk again, would he work again, would he be in a wheel chair, would he live to see tomorrow, how did it happen...  Nor do I think there has been a time when my emotions changed so abruptly and dramatically - one minute sobbing cries to God, then the next calm explanations to my husband, only to return to sobs and pleas to be strong when I arrived at the hospital.

Walking the sterile halls of the hospital to Trauma room 2, I straightened and braced my shoulders to receive what ever was waiting for me on the other side of the curtain.  My first glimpse... his feet moving and wiggling - this sight alone gave my heart hope and strength to see the rest for I KNEW he would walk again.  The sight was not pretty, but I can't say it was worse than I had expected.  He had a neck collar on and was covered in blood that came from multiple facial lacerations.  The worst that I could see was one on his cheek to almost his ear, it went clear through to his mouth. 

Trauma T.V. shows, such as Grey's Anatomy and ER, have done a significant disservice to the reality of ER room activity.  There was nothing that was urgent, or rushed about my dad's ER stay.  I expected the Dr.s to be making fast decisions in an effort to immediately improve my fathers sate of being.  Instead the process of x-rays, doctor evaluations, administration of pain meds and, ordering MRI consumed several hours, through all of which he received no pain meds.  Maybe the lack of hustle and bustle was a good sign, he was stable, and they were able to make smart, informed decisions on the best course of action. 

The initial diagnoses were in, my dad had sustained injuries that included a fractured C-2, compressed C-3, Teardrop fracture of C-7, small fractures in lower vertebrae, broken rib on left side, fractured orbital bone and blown pupil on right side, broken rib on left side, multiple facial lacerations, a cut on his calf, and NO SPINAL DAMAGE!!!!

Hours after arriving in the ER they took him for an MRI then up to surgery to repair the lacerations on his face.  Finally, about 4:00 he was taken to a room in the ICU.  The Dr. updated us on all the lacerations he had to repair, which were more numerous that he had first thought.  He was unsure of the severity of scaring, and nerve damage - only time would tell.

There is a strange time vortex that occurs in the hospital, it's as if time simultaneously speeds up and slows down; a day turns into the longest day of your life and in that same day hours have slipped past unnoticed. I found my self leaving ICU late Friday night suspended in this vortex, the outside world was still moving forward, a whole day had past where it seemed everyone went about as usual, I was stepping back into reality with the same trepidation as stepping onto a high speed moving walk way for the first time, not sure if I would maintain balance.

Situations like this tinge the world a different color, people look different as if a transparent material separates my reality from theirs.  I observed this strange sensation as I stopped at the grocery store on the way home - miraculously I remembered we needed milk.  I couldn't help but look at the people around me and wonder at how normal they looked- did I look normal too or did I have the look of someone who has been through hell and has yet to return? 

It dawned on me in that moment, how my day had truly come full circle- no not full circle that would imply that things ended exactly how they began and that is not the case.  Maybe my day came full spiral, beginning in one location of one reality and ending in the same location in an alternate reality.  I'm not sure how long I stood staring at the milk options with an almost comatose gaze upon my face, maybe only a second, maybe longer, but am stunned with how dramatically your life can change in less than 12 hours.

I do have hope and peace in the knowledge that all that has changed in the course of one day, 12 extremely long - yet slipped away hours - my dad was alive this morning, and he is alive now, and he will live tomorrow and the next tomorrow. 

Ranger "Danger" 12/28/2005- 5/31/12

He is gone.

I dropped him off at the vet early Thursday morning, I thought they would be giving him an IV and breathing treatments.  I thought Brian would come home and pick him up and in a few days he would be back to normal.

I thought wrong and he is gone.

It all happened so fast, it took all of us by surprise. Even the vet was ready to send him home with us (after giving us nebulizer training) to nurse him back to health.  As Brian showed up to bring him home, he was told "I thought I was going to be giving you your dog, instead I have to tell you that he has passed."

We are shocked, he is gone.

En rout to Park City, passing over mountain peaks, I received a call, one I thought would tell me that he had made great improvement, and was coming home.  Instead, I learned of our loss.

In harmony Madison and I wailed in grief, he is gone.

A weekend filled with soccer, gave a decent distraction for the two of us.  Reality crept in with the darkness of night.  I could fold up my sorrow and tuck it away, but knew it was temporary, I'd soon be home and faced with reality.

Our home had a gaping hole, he is gone.

It was cancer that had devastated his lungs, making them unable to fight off the pneumonia.  He wouldn't have made it much longer, and the reality is he only suffered a short time, and we never had to make the decision to let him go.

It was so fast, he is gone.

Brian said how fitting it was, Ranger never did anything small, it was always huge; He'd find the stinkiest mud hole to wallow in, he'd escape from the yard by busting a hole clean through the fence, he didn't chew on toys, he instead chewed the stairs.  The cancer was massive, his death was speedy.

He went big, he is gone.

I didn't say good bye, I didn't think it was the end. But looking back, he knew.  He let me brush him for hours, he let me lay with him and hold him.  He didn't come inside his last night with us, he laid out , in his favorite place under the bush. Had he been able, I think he would have wandered into the wilderness and laid in a stinky mud hole for his final rest.

He knew, he said good bye, and now he is gone.

Ranger, our snow dog,







Ranger, our fluff ball,


Ranger, our pillow



Ranger our goof ball,



Ranger our friend.





He may be gone, but his presence was a present.