February 15, 2006

This was the first day of the end. My family and I didn't know it, of course, but that's exactly what it was.

Early on the morning of February 15, 2006, my Dad went to St. Mary's Medical Center in Evansville, Ind., for a cardiac catheterization. For a great number of years, my Dad had been suffering from some form of emphysema. At least that's what I thought it was, but some breathing problems nonetheless. In December 2005 he had begun to develop some discomfort in his chest that he attributed to his breathing difficulties. After consultation with his lung doctor, the thought popped up that it might possibly be a heart issue, as well. Thus, the cardiac cath.

I knew in advance that this was coming up. While I didn't call my folks everyday, I did talk to them a couple times a week. Sometimes I'd even talk to Dad more often than that. Well, I had every intention of calling him on Feb. 14 so that I could speak to him prior to the procedure. For reasons I don't know at this time, I didn't. I was working at Host Communications at the time and it could have been because I was working on something that kept me at the office later than normal and by the time I got to my apartment I just pooped out. Or it could have been something else. Whatever it was, I didn't call Dad that night.

I got up early the next day to get some work done before the office officially got going. When I got to work, I realized what I had done (or not done, actually) and I called my Mom on their cell phone hoping I could catch them at the hospital, though before he was sent back to have the procedure done. I missed him. But I talked to my Mom. And my heart broke. She wasn't mad but she mentioned that Dad was a little disappointed the night before. Before they went to bed, she mentioned that he said, "I guess Brad's not going to call tonight."

I felt like the biggest ass in the world, and the worst son. Here's a guy, who in the past few years, had become more than my Dad, he had become my best friend. And I didn't call. My Mom wasn't trying to make me feel bad. It just came up when I mentioned that I was sorry I didn't call on the 14th and she just said he had hoped that I would.

Regardless, I missed him that morning. So, I told Mom to call me once the procedure was over. That morning was awful. Awful. Waiting while a loved one has surgery, a medical procedure or test is one of the worst, most grueling things you can go through. Especially if you are 200 miles away.

Finally, Mom called me a couple hours later, said he came out of the procedure okay. They were waiting on the doctor to come talk with them.

Turned out that there was, in fact, some heart issues that were causing his discomfort. A few blockages were found and they were significant enough for the doctors to feel that a bypass surgery was necessary.

At this point, as Mom is telling me this, I'm doing my best trying to hold it together while I'm sitting at my desk. Yes, I realize the prospect of heart surgery isn't a death sentence by any means, but you have to understand that my worst fear at that point in my life was losing my Dad. He had been through so many health-related issues in his life that it was a bit difficult for me to imagine he could actually make it through another surgery. But that was what he was going to have to do.

So, this time around I got to speak to Dad. He said that he was having the surgery and that it would be on Feb. 16, the next day. I asked him if he wanted me to come in, which was a dumb question because I was going to leave anyway. The 15th was a Wednesday so I would only miss a few days of work at the least. Dad told me I didn't have to. After talking to Dad I spoke with Mom again and I asked her the same question. Which was dumb. She definitely wanted me there. I told her that I had a few things to tie up at the office and then I would be there.

I immediately went in and spoke with my boss and told him the situation and he told me to go ahead and leave, to do whatever I needed to do. That made me feel a lot better. While I'm trying to put things in order and get some help from coworkers, a couple friends I had made there are work were continually telling me to just leave. Don't worry about all of that stuff, to just leave.

Finally, I got everything in order a little after lunch and headed to my apartment to pack. While there, I called my sister who lives in Richmond. I told her that I was almost packed and that I could pick her up soon. Well, she said she wasn't going. I won't get into that long story, but she said that she needed to stay with her family. Needless to say, I was very upset at this. And unfortunately she ended up regretting that decision (but at the time, how can you know?).

So, I left and went home. I don't remember exactly when I got away, but it was dark by the time I got to the hospital. Since he was already there because of the cardiac cath, they decided to just go ahead and admit Dad so he didn't have to worry about going home and then coming back the next morning. The surgery was scheduled for early on Feb. 16th. And by the time I walked in the hospital, they already had him in the Cardiac ICU, since that was where he would be immediately following the surgery. Mom was in the waiting room, along with one other person sitting on the opposite side.

We exchanged hugs and sat down to chat while we waited to go back to see Dad. The Cats were playing Georgia that night, and I remember texting my buddy Blake for scores. The game was still going on when we went back to see Dad and he was watching it. And he was in surprisingly good spirits. Oh yeah, he was also fussing at the Cats. They weren't playing particularly well, but they did end up winning.

Anyway, we spent some time with Dad after the game and then he told us to go home, like he always did. He hated to think we were just sitting around when we could be doing other things or resting. Eventually we left headed home.

On the way out, I called Blake who proceeded to tell me about a shitstorm that hit at work. I always missed that kind of stuff...

When I got to the house, I was introduced to Sammy, my Dad's golden retriever. At this point he was only a few weeks old, maybe a little over a month. But he was rowdy! And I loved him right away. He was so cute. Dad had set up this make-shift pen in the kitchen. He used the kitchen since it had ceramic tile. As I mentioned in a previous entry, Dad had bought him a ton of stuff. The bad part was that he wasn't house-broken yet. So, Mom cleaned that up, I refilled his water and food bowls and we played a little. Dad was supposed to have given him some medicine that day, which obviously he wasn't able to do, so I did that as well. It was some kind of liquid gunk in a feeder syringe. Sammy did not like it.

After talking a little bit Mom and I decided to call it a night since we were exhausted. Sammy whined a little, I think because he was being left alone and maybe because I was already missing Dad.

That was a long day, but the next was going to be longer.