Monday, January 25th, Part 2

Wow.  What a day.  These last 24 hours have been something else.

This is going to be a long one, so grab a beverage and read on...

Yesterday, Dad was having another endoscopy to see about placing a stent somewhere in his digestive tract.  There was a blockage somewhere, but they didn't know what or where.  Long story short, as of last night at 6:00 he had not woken up (sorry for the poor grammar...too tired to think!).  We received a call from the ICU doc and he explained to me and mom what was going on.  It was not good.  He wanted me to gather the family for a speaker phone call.  We rallied the troops and everybody met at mom and dad's and awaited the phone call.  It was just what we didn't want to hear.  It boiled down to we needed to let him know what measures we wanted them to take to save dad's life, if any at all.  We all discussed it and decided it was time to let him go.  That was quite possibly one of the worst nights I've ever spent.  Sleep was fleeting for all of us.  Knowing I was going to bed just to get up to go to the hospital to make the hardest decision of my life was excruciating.  The family met here this morning and we drove down (it took 4 vehicles to haul us all down there) at a little after nine.  Aunt Dana, Uncle Bob (Dad's brother), Grandma Louise (Dad's mom), and my cousins were already there.  This is where it turns good...

We rounded the corner from the elevator and I saw Uncle Bob.  As I walked closer, I realized my father was sitting there in bed, looking right at me!!!  A far cry from a comatose man I was expecting!  He was intubated still, so couldn't speak, but he was in there alright.  He was as sharp as he ever was.  There was no doubt this man was still in charge.  He was understandably weak, and although he said he wasn't, I think he was a little scared - again, quite understandably.  My first thought was "Oh crap.  He's gonna figure something's up when he sees the Aliverti Parade of Adoring Relatives shuffle through."  I joked that when we got off the elevator, it was like the clown car - they keep coming, and coming, and coming...  Dad even wrote later "Looks like a wake."  Uh oh.  With some well-worded phrases (trans:  quick thinking) we brushed over the fact that half the free world was outside his door.  My husband Ted, and daughter Caitlin had flown down and arrived this morning.  Let's see, how many of us were there?  13 from our camp, plus the 5 that were already there and shortly thereafter 4 more arrived.  Needless to say, Virginia Mason knew we were in da house!  They were awesome about it all.  They reserved a room just for us, so we could all hang together.  I think it was just a way of keeping track of us all, short of ankle monitors.

Onward.

They did an upper GI to see if the stent they had put in yesterday was working.  We found out that it apparently is, to some degree.  Still not clear on just how well it's working. 

The doctor talked to dad after the procedure to spell out his options.  He wanted to know what efforts regarding supplementing his breathing Dad wanted them to take.  They could turn off the vent and let him breathe on his own.  If that didn't work, did he want to be re-intubated or just let him go.  He wrote on his clipboard "I want to live."  The doctor said "Well, I guess I could have skipped a whole lot of explaining!  That tells me what I need to know (not an exact quote but you get the gist).  The plan was to turn off the vent for two hours.  Then they would take a blood gas and if it came back good, they would extubate him.  He did his time and didn't have any issues at all with shortness of breath or anything that would require them turning the vent back on.  While I was there, he was keeping his blood oxygen saturation at 100%.  Couldn't ask for anything better!  I did step out to make some phone calls when the test results came back.  By the time I got up there and into our waiting room, the nurse said he was ready for us.  I thought she meant it was time to take the tube out.  Turns out they already had and he was waiting for us!  He has one heck of a sore throat, and not much voice, but as time went by, he improved to where you could understand what he was saying.  I called mom, put on the speaker phone and had him say hello.  His first words were "I love you."  I was jelly at this point.  He talked to Jann and Gina, also.  We were all in tears.  But what a change from earlier - these were tears of sheer and utter joy.

I left him tonight resting quietly.  He had a nebulizer (breathing) treatment in place when I left.  He was starting to doze.  A well earned rest.

I have never before gone through the gamut of emotions as I did these last 24 hours.  From utter despair, to a conservative optimism.  We know he won't ever be back to where he was, but, I still have my daddy.  At least for a little while longer.

I love you dad.  You are amazing and truly my hero.  You have taught me so much - the most important thing being deciding what really is important in our lives.  What's really worth sweating over, and more often than not, what really isn't worth the time or energy.  I implore you all to hug your loved ones on dad's behalf.  Tell them you love them, while you can, before it's too late.

I am going to end tonight's novella with another quote, which just happens to be the new favorite (sorry Dr. Seuss). 

"I want to live."
-- Ed Aliverti

Goodnight all.  God bless you --

Leslie :)