February 17, 2006

I must say I did sleep a little easier that night. Of course, Dad wasn't out of danger yet, but he had survived the surgery, so that had to be a good thing. However, he wasn't off the ventilator yet, so we didn't rush back in that morning. Besides, we had decided that it wasn't fair to Sammy to leave him at the house all day while we are at the hospital, and being so young and not house-broken yet, we couldn't impose on anyone to take him. So, we decided that it would be best to kennel him until Dad could get back home and felt like taking care of him again. And this way, he could run and play with other puppies. So, that morning we took him to his vet's hospital, where they also had a kennel. This was a good situation because he still needed a couple of shots and they could give them to him while he was there.

After dropping Sammy off, we headed to the hospital. When we got there, we plopped down in a corner and awaited the first visiting hour. Again, I had taken my computer so I had plenty to do.

At one point, an older gentleman walked up to us and introduced himself as a representative of the Mended Hearts Chapter 107. This is a group of folks who have gone through open-heart surgery. He talked to us about groups that we could join that would help us get through the recovery and maintain Dad's health. He also gave us a pillow to give to Dad.



This was for Dad to use when he coughed or moved or laughed, etc. He was to hold it against his incision to help prevent it from opening and ease the pain a little.

A cousin of mine, who was doing some student social work at the hospital stopped by to see how Dad was. We were talking and I told her about Sammy, and we got to talking about how great Sammy would be for Dad's recovery once he got home and settled.

Finally, the ventilator was removed and when we went in to see Dad, it was awful. He had absolutely no color. He was inclined as far up in a sitting position as the bed would allow. He was breathing hard but sounded as if he couldn't catch his breath. Of course, breathing hurt too much. He couldn't have anything to drink so Mom had to keep wetting this small swab for him to suck on. I had seen Dad in a bad way a lot in my life, but never had I seen him suffering as much as he was then. Of course, I knew what had caused it, but it didn't make it any easier to see him that way.

We didn't stay in the room long, and by the end of the day, I was ready to head home. I didn't want to leave him, but I just couldn't see him that way anymore.

I hoped the next day would be a lot better.

February 16, 2006

The day of my Dad's heart surgery came around really quickly. Of course, we had to be there at 5:30 a.m., so we had to get up much earlier to make it to the hospital by then.

By the time I was up, showered, dressed and had taken care of Sammy, I was already beat. And scared to death.

My Dad had been through so many surgeries in his life, with each new one he, himself, was concerned his body couldn't take another. And it wasn't difficult for me to think that surgery on his most vital organ could be the last straw. But I tried to stay positive if for no other reason than my Mom.

After we got there, a nurse escorted us -- me, my Mom, my grandpa (paternal) and three of my Dad's sisters -- into the Cardiac ICU to be with Dad prior to them taking him back.

When we got there, there were hugs all around. Dad was telling us about getting prepared for surgery. Even at times like this, he was full of good humor. "They shaved me from the tip of my chin to the crack of ass!" He had us all in stitches (pardon the pun).

Soon after, the pastor from our church in Henderson arrived. I don't attend church regularly. I was raised in the church, however, and have a strong faith. And while I don't pray everyday, these types of moments always help. So, Brother Todd said a prayer, we all said, "Amen," and continued our conversations until the nurse came to let us know how things would happen from that point on.

And then they were ready. We stepped outside the room as they wheeled Dad toward the hallway. When we got there, the orderlies stopped to give us another opportunity to say what we needed to say. I let my grandpa and aunts go first. Actually, I think one of my Dad's brothers had arrived by this time, as well. Then I stepped up. As I've said before, my Dad had become my best friend over the previous few years. As I've said before, losing my Dad was my greatest fear in life at that time. Of course, I think everyone was crying at this point, even Dad. I leaned over hugged him and gave him a kiss on the check. I told him I loved him. After Mom had her say, the orderlies wheeled him away.

That was when the worrying began in earnest.

The doctors and nurses try to give you an idea of how long a surgery will take, but they are never right. Sometimes it ends sooner, sometimes it takes longer. Regardless, when you are waiting and don't know what's going on, the time drags by.

My family and I secured a corner of the waiting room. I had brought along my laptop. Thankfully, the hospital has wireless Internet so I was able to check/write e-mails and just play around to take my mind off of things. I would have read, but I didn't have the patience for that in that situation.

I had started Weight Watchers in early January of that year and my aunts were asking me about how it worked. So, that took a little while to discuss.

By about 9 a.m., I was hungry, so my grandpa and I went to the cafeteria. I hadn't and unfortunately still don't see him that often, so it was really nice to spend some time with him, just the two of us.

We talked about a number of things that unfortunately the past two years have caused me to forget. However, one thing I definitely remember was our discussion of milk gravy. See, we were having breakfast and each of us had gotten some biscuits and gravy. I love biscuits and gravy, and yes, I remember I said that I was on Weight Watchers, but I figured what was happening that day was a "Get Out of Weight Watchers Free" card. Anyway, my Dad was a great cook. I think once he retired, he cooked more than my Mom, and I'm sure she didn't mind. She was a fan of his cooking, too. But his breakfasts were out of this world. He cooked everything. Fried Potatoes. Scrambled Eggs. Bacon. Sausage. Biscuits. And homemade Milk Gravy. I loved that gravy. So every time he cooked it, I would tell him that I needed him to show me how to do it. And every time he would tell me to watch him then and I'd know how. So, I mentioned this to my grandpa. Since he had taught my Dad, he began to tell me. And then he added, that Dad could show me how to do it when he got better.

As I said, the day dragged on. It got to the point that I had to walk around a little, so I went to the gift shop. And I found one of the greatest things in the world there. Have you ever had a Cow Tail? It's a candy, like a rope, of caramel with a white cream center. There also is a version that is not a rope. They are simply called caramel creams.



Except the ones I found were strawberry. And they were good.

Anyway, I was in the gift shop buying some of this candy when one of my aunts told me the doctor was ready to see us.

Holy crap...

We all went into the small "c0nference" room and awaited his arrival. Like most doctors, once he showed up, he was brief and to the point.

He told he it took a little while longer than they had expected because one of the veins they were going to use to bypass split a little so they had to do it again. But it was successful, and the doc said that Dad had the heart of a young man despite the fact he was 58. Although, 58 isn't old. Doc was pleased and felt that Dad would be doing very well in his recovery.

At least that was over. Now we had to wait for Dad to wake up.

We were able to see him in his ICU room even before he woke up, with all the tubes and breathing apparatus attached. And it would hopefully be that night that they would take the breathing tube out. It seems like I remember him in his bed, which was inclined a bit, still unconscious, with nothing but the sounds of the monitors beeping, the machines whirring and the ventilator doing it's thing. Dad had the control to a morphine pump which he continued to keep depressed.

But he was alive and doing well, considering.

And then we went home.

Scrubs

I just turned over to Comedy Central to watch Scrubs. It's the episode where J.D.'s dad dies.

Had to turn it off.

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.

Doughnuts (or Donuts for those who conserve letters)

So, today I was on my way to Channel 27 (WKYT) with my boss. She was scheduled to be on the noon show to promote Teachers Who Made a Difference program. We passed a bakery on Winchester Road. She asked me if I had ever been there. I haven't but I've heard people say that the donuts are really good.

And that simple question reminded me of my Dad.

When I was a kid, my Dad often went to the local bakery to get donuts on Saturday and Sunday mornings.



There's nothing quite like a fresh donut first thing in the morning. I've always been partial to donut holes and chocolate milk.


My Dad liked long johns with chocolate icing. He also liked creme horns.

But regardless, Dad would buy donuts, and often would do it on weekday mornings, too, when he would come visit.

I might have a donut today in memory of my Dad...

The Strike is Over

Well, the Writer's Guild of America has signed a new contract with the producers and are back to work. I know a lot of TV addicts are very happy about this. As a moviegoer, I am happy that productions can start back up (ones that weren't canceled anyway... please put the "Justice League" movie back in the schedule!). But more importantly, all the non-writers who were affected by the strike can get work again.

What else does this mean? The Oscars live on!!!!!!!!!!!!

Who cares.

I'll still read about it in the paper.

But let me add this note: I have seen four of the five movies nominated for best picture, "Atonement" being the lone missed film. Without a doubt, "There Will Be Blood" should be the film of the year. I'm afraid "No Country For Old Men" will win, which would disappoint me highly. I'd almost venture to say that Daniel Day-Lewis should win the lead actor honor, but I can't because I haven't seen Viggo Mortensen in "Eastern Promises." I like Viggo's work, especially in "History of Violence," so I'm not comfortable committing to Day-Lewis, who was phenomenal. And don't count out Johnny Depp.

Hittin' the Rails

Back in January 2006, my Dad and I had been discussing taking a trip together later in the year. He had always wanted to take a trip by train. I had wanted to return to Boston (I had visited the city a couple times a few years prior when I was considering graduate school there). So, Dad and I decided to take a train trip to Boston. I decided the best time for me to go would be in late April, so I started mapping out a route on Amtrak that would take us to Washington, D.C., and then up the coast to Boston. It was inexpensive and would have been a great time for us to bond even more.

I can't tell you how excited I was about this trip.

But, unfortunately, we never got to go...