RECAP: Jan'10-- Dad

So I think it's time to tell the story of my Dad and last January. As everyone knows, my memory isn't the best so I might get some dates/times/minor details a little wrong. But the recaps to follow are as I remember it.

Last time I spoke about this it was a little over a year ago, and he had just been taken into surgery for a quintuple bypass.

The surgery went great. Mom, the sibs and I stayed the entire time. The next couple of weeks were a little hectic. I had already taken a few weeks off of work, so after Dad's release date was approaching, I would drive back to Austin every couple of days, do about a week's worth of work in the next 48 hours, then drive back to San Antonio to spend some time telling Dad bad jokes, then back to Austin, and thus continued the great circle of life.

(BTW, Lil was a gem for taking in Murphy for all this time.)

Apparently Dad was making a spectacular recovery, and the release date was on schedule. Even after a minor Afib. So he was released with a clean bill of health, feelin great, looking fit, and as sharp as always.

A bit relieved, I had decided to go home and actually put in a good solid four days' work at the office. He was released on a Wednesday, and I would be back on Friday to hang out with him. My Mom had decided to go to an anniversary party. The nurturer and worrier in her didn't want to leave Dad alone, but we convinced her she needed a night out. Besides, I would be there. It wasn't so much that he needed a babysitter, but I was looking forward to spending time with him alone. With the hospital stay and all the 34,683 well-wishers, we hadn't had an opportunity to just hang out, talk, and yuk it up without an audience since before the holidays.

We watched some tv, talked about the operation (he was fascinated by the procedure), and then started talking about randomness.

10:32

I remember him saying something about the Amazon, but stopped mid-sentence. It was then I felt him reach out and grab my arm hard. He pulled himself up, and as I stood up he became unsteady and looked at me with fear in his eyes.

I had never known him to be afraid of anything. Even recently going into bypass surgery, or dealing with cancer, or even the stomach infection that nearly ended his life, I had never seen him frightened like this. His grip on my arm as he tried to steady himself was like an iron claw, and I could tell as I spoke with him he could not fully comprehend my words. At that point I saw his right eye glass over and the corner of his mouth curl downwards, a bit of spittle landing on my hand. His mouth moved as if he was trying to speak, but the same word over and over.

I had seen this before.

He was having a stroke.

I sat him down amidst protest, and told him to sit as I got the phone. With their home phone on my ear calling 911, my cell on the other trying to reach my Mom's cell, and talking to him to try and keep him with me, the next hour was a blur.

Mom got there shortly before the ambulance did, and I told her to go with Dad while I closed up everything and tried to get hold of my sisters. After I locked up the house I flew to the hospital.

When I got there the doctor had already confirmed it. He had a massive stroke, and since we were still within the window of action we could administer a clotbuster drug.

What this does is immediately break up clots and minimize damage to the brain. There's a catch: If there is any hemorrhaging or leaking (especially since he had just gone through major bypass surgery), the chance of death increases dramatically as they might not be able to stop the bleeding.

I remember the look on Mom's face as she said to me, "I can't make this decision."

And I had about 15 minutes to decide. I went outside to call my sisters and also because if at any point in my life I needed a cigarette, I needed one now.

I wanted to administer the drug. My Dad's mind is incredible, and if there was ANY chance to get him back I wanted to take it. But if the decision is passed down to the children, we ALL must agree. I got both of them on the phone.

The oldest of us wasn't sure, and the other sister agreed with me. So I went inside and told the doctor to start the drip. The paperwork came in and of course the disclaimer about the risks, chance of death, etc.

I had never in my life felt so scared signing a piece of paper.

And so it began.

The medication did about as well as we could hope. He started gaining a little bit of coherence, but still wasn't sure about where he was or what he was doing there. The hardest thing was looking into his eyes. It was a look of helplessness. He was the strong one. The rock of the family. And he looked at me wanting me to make everything better.

And I felt as helpless as he.

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The next few weeks I stayed by his side. Slowly he began to restart learning things again. Speaking was a major hurdle, and he had lost almost all use of his right side. It killed him not being able to communicate. But still we worked at it. Over time, I started to notice that "he" was still in there. His mind was working; but he was trapped in a shell of a body.

The next month was even harder. I couldn't afford to stay away from work any longer, as the busy season was starting. So I would go to work every day, and on Tuesday and Thursday evenings drive down to San Antonio to get there during visiting hours, take Mom to dinner and drive home again, then coming in on Saturday and stay the weekend.

After his release to a Rehab center (he hated this, as he felt it was one step away from a nursing home), I couldn't stay with him so the visits were limited to the weekends. I had noticed that the therapy was helping a lot. Or maybe we were starting to understand him better. He was also starting to gain some movement in his right leg, and was being made to try and walk.

After the second rehab center, Medicare had started to limit what they would pay for, but luckily he was strong enough to go home. Mom really surprised me as to the work she did with him. I had offered to get a job in San Antonio so I could stay nearby and help take care of him (or at least the house). Mom would have none of that. For some reason she had been determined to do everything herself. Or didn't want me there. Or something. I couldn't help but feel a little hurt.

By this time the travel season for my job had begun. I took every opportunity to go by and see them, but the travel had started to take its toll. If I wasn't in the office or traveling for work, I was in San Antonio. And it got harder each time.

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So where is he now? He's doing a lot better, and has traded in his wheelchair for a walker. Over the holidays we spent a lot of time talking. There's still a lot of sadness and frustration in him. But as the people in my family can attest to, he's too stubborn to quit.

And I Love him for it.