Tell Me Where It Hurts

I never expected this to happen.  Nobody does.  It’s the type of occurance that happens to everyone else, and that you never thought would happen to someone you love.

My father needs triple bypass surgery.

It’s a strange thing.  My Son and I had dinner with my parents last night.  Some things were said between my Dad and My Son that upset me and the kid.  I called my Dad after returning home and proceeded to have a knock-down, drag-out on the phone.  Over and done, case closed.  This morning, I got a call from my Mom, who told me that she had rushed my Dad to the ER last night.  He had been experiencing chest pains on and off all week, and was having difficulty breathing.  Last night, the chest pains returned and he took his blood pressure.  It was through the roof, so off they went to The Big City Hospital ER, where he was admitted.  She passed along a message from my Dad:  this had nothing to do with last night.

I arrived at the hospital at 10:30 this morning.  Dad was awake, alert and didn’t appear very concerned about his condition.  We sat and chatted for awhile and everything seemed alright.  My Mom arrived not long after I did and we awaited information from the nurse, concerning his catheterization.   Often there are times when people are uncertain and nervous, they will talk about anything and everything.  Just blabering off with no rhyme or reason.  We were relaxed, just talking.  Everything seemed  fine.  If there was any residual apprehension or nervous feelings, nobody let on about it.

Finally, the nurse had information.  Dad had been scheduled for catheterization at 1:15 pm, and he needed to get doped up.

My words, not hers.

He gave him some valium and benedril in small doses.  I think that my Dad was expecting an instantaneous transformation.  It took about 15 minutes for the drugs to kick in, so it wasn’t long before he was in La-La-Land.

Upstairs he went, to the 8th floor to get tubed.  It took about an hour.  When the procedure was over, Mom and I were paged back to the cath lab.  We had been given a pager after Dad was brought upstairs.  I was expecting a black box like the pagers you get in restaurants.  This one was blue, long, and slender.  It looked like a vibrator with colored lights.  It was shaped like a dildo.    I imagine that if you carried it in the front pocket of your pants, you might get a similar reaction.

Bottom line:  he will need triple bypass surgery.  The muscles of the heart are still strong.  He was lucky that he didn’t have a heart attack in some remote part of their property.  I know my mother always checks out the window to see where he is.  No date has been determined, but we’re guessing before the end of the week.  My sister the nurse will clear her schedule and travel up from Massachusetts.  My brother is very concerned.  Mom says that, when she spoke with him this morning, he sounded subdued.  Who knows what my little sister will do.  It’s now a waiting game.

On the way upstairs to the cath lab, I confided in my Mom.  I told her that one of my biggest fears was to have something like this happen to me, with no one there to help me.  I felt very vulnerable, despite the knowledge that I live three blocks from The Big City Hospital and could easily drive there.

It’s not a debilitating fear.  Maybe concern would be more accurate.

This entry was posted in Family, Healing, Heart, Heavy Thoughts, Hospital, Life, Me, My Father, My Mother, Reflections, Relationships, Solitude, Surgery, Uncategorized. Bookmark the permalink.

1 Response to Tell Me Where It Hurts

  1. auntysocial says:

    Your Dad is in good hands, of that I am sure. I sincerely hope everything goes well and he remains in good health for years to come but more importantly, I hope he and your son talk sooner rather than later.

    My guess is that your father bitterly regrets exchanging words and is more concerned with straightening things out with your Son than about his op.

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