No longer hazy around the edges.
I have had a week. Others in my family have had a MUCH harder week. But emotionally, I am running on fumes right now. Let me explain. . .
Twenty years ago this summer, my life was consumed with twice daily trips to Methodist hospital to visit my dad in ICU. He had a 2nd bypass operation, perforated an ulcer, developed ARDS and after 3.5 months in ICU at Methodist, he died. There were several things that were very upsetting about the experience including a lack of pastoral care from Methodist for us (we are Methodist), a "deep throat" who informed us of basically an embezzlement of funds and the clincher of me walking in at a time that he had coded.
The 3rd floor Fondren waiting room is a dismal place, updated, but still dismal. My mom and I spent a solid 2 weeks there waiting for the 8am, 2pm and 8pm visiting times. The chairs aren't very comfortable, but the other families were kind and supportive, especially the ones that never moved on to a regular room out of the ICU. There was a nice group of us. I learned to play "pitch" as well a grow up pretty quickly during that summer of 1988. Dad was down in a ward type area, enter the double doors, turn left and walk to the end of the hall and there he was. He did have a bed by a window. But, you could see him as soon as you turned left. Which is what happened one night when we had been excluded from the room. Our "cards" like tickets to the show, had not been put out at 8pm. There is no good reason that happens, only that someone is in trouble. After an hour of waiting, and some bad feelings, I got up, went in to ask at the desk if it was my dad. I went in and glanced left and immediately knew it was him. They said they would come speak to us. I walked out, walked to the bathroom and threw up. He came back that night, but it eventually was over. I talked about that moment in my medical school application. It was the turning point where I walked away from my desire to pursue medicine at that time. Over 20 years, it became hazy, like that White Diamonds commercial with Liz Taylor. Everything looks better through that lens! It was still hazy, until this week.
Fast forward to this Monday. My mother-in-law calls to tell me that my father-in-law has an aneurysm and is going for tests later in the week. He was completely asymptomatic and had gone for a regular check-up and the doctor heard something. She stated she had been given the name of a doctor and eventually that evening I was told that Thursday he would have a catheterization on Thursday and see the surgeon on Monday, the 11th. The daughter in law in me screamed why wait so long, the attempt to be a cool professional said, they know what they are doing. I also figured out that the Dr. was at st. luke's in the medical center, not Methodist. Wednesday he had a CT scan in which the knob for seriousness was turned up to 5-6. It was a big aneurysm at the root of the aorta. We might look at getting him an appointment with someone else who can see him before Monday. It is a concern, but we're OK. Thursday's catheterization turned the volume up to 11. The cardiologist stated it was the largest aneurysm that he had seen and 2 others concurred. He would be going to see a Dr. at Methodist. Actually, he would be checking into Methodist Thursday for Surgery Friday. Big surgery, scary surgery.
After arriving Thursday night, we saw him to his room and I asked where the procedure would take place. "Oh, on the third floor of Fondren, there is a waiting room there." Crap. I know that waiting room. I stepped off the elevator just to look at it last night. Newer furniture and different arrangement, but still, it hung dread over my heart. I have been so lucky to have a father-in-law that is a second chance at a father. He and my dad would have enjoyed each other. He is such a great guy, I hate to see him and his family in pain. But I know that if we are to suffer through years more of horrible puns and eye-rolling, moan inducing jokes, there would be a little pain to go through. He was disappointed that I didn't bring my new stethoscope to listen to him last night, I made sure to bring it this morning. I also think that he is a little proud of me. That is a very nice feeling, too.
Aside about the stethoscope, I asked to borrow the PA's stethoscope last night to listen to his heart. Normal heart, lub-dub, lub-dub. His heart, dub dub. Of course, I say "COOL!" it was the first time that I have been able to hear something different. I was told that was in bad form for the patient and to avoid that in the future.
So this morning, we arrived at the hospital at about 6:30 and started to wait in THE waiting room. We saw him in pre-op as he was wheeled away. All pretense of brave face was gone for everyone, we were all quite worried. And we waited. We received the good news about 3.5 hours after he went back. It went very well, he had a new aortic valve and rebuilt aortic arch. He is the bionic man. About an hour later, they said that we could go back to see him. They let more than 2 people go back now and they have more than 3 visiting times. But as we went in, through those same double doors and then turned to the left and walked down that hall, they have remodeled, added walls, moved nurses stations and desks, but all that melted away. I wasn't going to see my father-in-law any more. There was a scared, naive 19-year old walking down that hall for the briefest of moments. I had to relive the might have beens for those fleeting seconds, college graduation, masters degrees, meeting my husband, walking me down the aisle, meeting his grandchildren, attending my white coat ceremony next week. We stopped and turned before the window that I looked out so long ago, which is now an isolation room. Focus came back on why I was there. But it isn't hazy any longer. And I hope I don't have to make that walk again.
He has been extubated and is doing well. In pain, uncomfortable and drugged, but telling stupid jokes again. Let's keep on the good path and keep as many as possible out of the jaws of the 3rd floor Fondren waiting room and ICU.
Twenty years ago this summer, my life was consumed with twice daily trips to Methodist hospital to visit my dad in ICU. He had a 2nd bypass operation, perforated an ulcer, developed ARDS and after 3.5 months in ICU at Methodist, he died. There were several things that were very upsetting about the experience including a lack of pastoral care from Methodist for us (we are Methodist), a "deep throat" who informed us of basically an embezzlement of funds and the clincher of me walking in at a time that he had coded.
The 3rd floor Fondren waiting room is a dismal place, updated, but still dismal. My mom and I spent a solid 2 weeks there waiting for the 8am, 2pm and 8pm visiting times. The chairs aren't very comfortable, but the other families were kind and supportive, especially the ones that never moved on to a regular room out of the ICU. There was a nice group of us. I learned to play "pitch" as well a grow up pretty quickly during that summer of 1988. Dad was down in a ward type area, enter the double doors, turn left and walk to the end of the hall and there he was. He did have a bed by a window. But, you could see him as soon as you turned left. Which is what happened one night when we had been excluded from the room. Our "cards" like tickets to the show, had not been put out at 8pm. There is no good reason that happens, only that someone is in trouble. After an hour of waiting, and some bad feelings, I got up, went in to ask at the desk if it was my dad. I went in and glanced left and immediately knew it was him. They said they would come speak to us. I walked out, walked to the bathroom and threw up. He came back that night, but it eventually was over. I talked about that moment in my medical school application. It was the turning point where I walked away from my desire to pursue medicine at that time. Over 20 years, it became hazy, like that White Diamonds commercial with Liz Taylor. Everything looks better through that lens! It was still hazy, until this week.
Fast forward to this Monday. My mother-in-law calls to tell me that my father-in-law has an aneurysm and is going for tests later in the week. He was completely asymptomatic and had gone for a regular check-up and the doctor heard something. She stated she had been given the name of a doctor and eventually that evening I was told that Thursday he would have a catheterization on Thursday and see the surgeon on Monday, the 11th. The daughter in law in me screamed why wait so long, the attempt to be a cool professional said, they know what they are doing. I also figured out that the Dr. was at st. luke's in the medical center, not Methodist. Wednesday he had a CT scan in which the knob for seriousness was turned up to 5-6. It was a big aneurysm at the root of the aorta. We might look at getting him an appointment with someone else who can see him before Monday. It is a concern, but we're OK. Thursday's catheterization turned the volume up to 11. The cardiologist stated it was the largest aneurysm that he had seen and 2 others concurred. He would be going to see a Dr. at Methodist. Actually, he would be checking into Methodist Thursday for Surgery Friday. Big surgery, scary surgery.
After arriving Thursday night, we saw him to his room and I asked where the procedure would take place. "Oh, on the third floor of Fondren, there is a waiting room there." Crap. I know that waiting room. I stepped off the elevator just to look at it last night. Newer furniture and different arrangement, but still, it hung dread over my heart. I have been so lucky to have a father-in-law that is a second chance at a father. He and my dad would have enjoyed each other. He is such a great guy, I hate to see him and his family in pain. But I know that if we are to suffer through years more of horrible puns and eye-rolling, moan inducing jokes, there would be a little pain to go through. He was disappointed that I didn't bring my new stethoscope to listen to him last night, I made sure to bring it this morning. I also think that he is a little proud of me. That is a very nice feeling, too.
Aside about the stethoscope, I asked to borrow the PA's stethoscope last night to listen to his heart. Normal heart, lub-dub, lub-dub. His heart, dub dub. Of course, I say "COOL!" it was the first time that I have been able to hear something different. I was told that was in bad form for the patient and to avoid that in the future.
So this morning, we arrived at the hospital at about 6:30 and started to wait in THE waiting room. We saw him in pre-op as he was wheeled away. All pretense of brave face was gone for everyone, we were all quite worried. And we waited. We received the good news about 3.5 hours after he went back. It went very well, he had a new aortic valve and rebuilt aortic arch. He is the bionic man. About an hour later, they said that we could go back to see him. They let more than 2 people go back now and they have more than 3 visiting times. But as we went in, through those same double doors and then turned to the left and walked down that hall, they have remodeled, added walls, moved nurses stations and desks, but all that melted away. I wasn't going to see my father-in-law any more. There was a scared, naive 19-year old walking down that hall for the briefest of moments. I had to relive the might have beens for those fleeting seconds, college graduation, masters degrees, meeting my husband, walking me down the aisle, meeting his grandchildren, attending my white coat ceremony next week. We stopped and turned before the window that I looked out so long ago, which is now an isolation room. Focus came back on why I was there. But it isn't hazy any longer. And I hope I don't have to make that walk again.
He has been extubated and is doing well. In pain, uncomfortable and drugged, but telling stupid jokes again. Let's keep on the good path and keep as many as possible out of the jaws of the 3rd floor Fondren waiting room and ICU.
posted by Jane at
9:45 PM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home