Dad by Kelsey White

You can’t put words together to describe it. There are no emotions to explain the feeling.
Watching your dad lose consciousness, his vision, and worst of all… the ability to breathe. Ultimately, that’s what ended him. I can never get the moaning sound out of my ears as he lost all control of his body and the sight of the heart attack taking over him. He died that night, over and over. They resuscitatated him over twenty times, beating and burning his chest to keep him alive from home to the hospital alone. You don’t know how long a second, minute or hour really is when you’re waiting for an answer, an answer if your father is ok, surviving… or even alive. The dr.’s had little hope, but they managed to keep his heart beating. A ventilator, forcing his lungs to work was attached to his swollen pale face. We had hope that night, they kept him alive… wasn’t the worst of it all over? No one would know that night what would happen over the course of a month. I don’t even know how long we stayed at that hospital before coming home to shower and change to go right back again. All of us were taking turns staying in his room to watch him, any signs that he could be coming out of his coma. The neurologist conducted his first EEG test, an electroencephalogram test that measures and records the electrical activity of your brain. Everyone was thrilled that his results came back in the normal range. For so long we had waited for good news. After watching him, listening to his ragged breathing and the ventilator forcing his lungs to move was terrifying, depressing and exhausting. Watching a loved one lay in a bed with needles and tubing poking from every orifice is one of the hardest things anyone can do. On my new visions rotations I see suffering patients & their families everyday, but no one knows what it truly feels like until you’re there in that hospital with your dad as a patient and you being part of the family. What is even worse, is knowing there is absolutely nothing you can do that will help. Every minute in the hospital felt like an hour, yet a week felt like minutes. The hours there at the hospital were countless. The hardest times were in the evening. My mother, sister and I would take turns watching over dad, any signs of change or getting his ventilator cleared out. . I was always afraid for my turn. I was tormented by the thought of having to wake my sister and mother, to tell them the nightmare was true. But yet some of the better times were there in the evenings. I got to tell my dad some of the things that I never told him. I divulged some of my secrets to him, hoping to lure him out of his coma and out of the bed to get even with me. I never thought I’d miss my dad arguing with me when we both knew we were wrong. After days from his heart attack and still no good news, we continued to have hope. Slight body movements and blinks we thought our voices were getting through to him, he believed that he could hear us and was trying to show us that. But after repeated EEG tests that were progressively worsening, we began to come back to reality. His poor body was poked and prodded continuously. The bruises became more apparent and he was beginning to thin quickly. A Pic line was added and a peg tube to give him nourishment directly into his stomach. These precautions were taken knowing that his condition could be continuing on for a long period of time. The neurologist finally pronounced my dad, once a smart, funny guy… Brain dead or as so many of us know it as a vegetable. Many family meetings were held, giving us all the information the doctors could offer. It was hard to put into perspective the doctor’s poor prognosis but our strong belief in miracles and our faith still pervaded in our thoughts. After weeks in the hospital, our family slowly began to come to terms with what is the worst thing anyone has to realize. I didn’t want to believe it and I couldn’t. My father was strong, brave and fearless. Unless he had a cold, aches, pains and injuries were nothing to him. My dad would have hated this I thought over and over again. He would be so angry that he couldn’t be outside cutting wood, fooling around with his John Deere, or driving his Chevy truck. I can’t count the many times when I told him I was driving his truck, hoping he’d be angry enough to wake up. With a medical career in my future, I was taught that in this career you can’t become attached. You have to keep your work life away from your personal life. It was so hard to look at him as a patient, and yet your dad too. I was trying to be sensible and mature about everything, to help others in my family that isn’t knowledgeable about the medical field informed. But at the same time I felt so childish. I wanted to know why this happened to him, and to me. I asked God what could we possibly have done to deserve this? Then my faith and religion stepped in. Maybe God had bigger and better plans for dad. Maybe God needed him to do something special. After weeks in the hospital, we finally had to make a choice. A. Remove the ventilator and pray he survived or a tracheotomy, a hole inserted in the neck area for him to breathe for an extended period of time. This is the hardest decision for anyone to decide. Yeah you see these kinds of decisions in tragic medical movies all the time. But you don’t really put it into perspective until you; a seventeen year old girl has to help make for your dad. It isn’t for real life I thought, these kinds of things don’t happen. You can think that it can’t happen to you, but sooner or later it will. My Dad expressed his opinion on pro longing life to us before. No he said, I couldn’t do that, it wouldn’t be living. Keeping that in mind, and seeing his tired, bruised body, we decided to take a chance, and remove the ventilator. Upon making that decision, we also had to decide whether or not to make him a DNR, or Do Not Resuscitate. Knowing my dad had been through enough and that living in a coma the rest of his life was not living… we signed it.
We began to prepare for anything; even the worst but we kept our strong faith in God. Everyday the changes made themselves known. His ragged breathing was painful to listen to; wondering if that would be his last. His once broad, full face was beginning to look sullen and pale and his strong legs thinner than my own. His body began deteriorating before our eyes. You can’t mask the smell of your dad’s body decaying to nothing. The last week we were asked to make another serious decision. Keep Dad on comfort care and move him to a nursing home, or pull the feeding tube. How can you honestly forgive yourself knowing that you killed your father by starving him when you know he is dependent on you for nutrition? We couldn’t let them do that; none of us would let them do that to our father and husband. Within the week we had to decide, because they needed the room for another person. One night as my mom and I said our goodbyes and gave him a kiss for the night, I said something that I didn’t know I was ready to. I told him that it was ok to go to heaven; I knew that he was tired and I wanted him to know that he wasn’t giving up, that he was being brave. There were so many things I had wanted to say to him but I found that that was the most important thing I could say at that time. The next morning the nurse called my mom to get to the hospital as soon as she could, he had very labored breathing. But before the nurse even got back to the room, he passed. January 20th my dad’s life ended here on earth. Holding his hand as it went from warm to cold, I realized how peaceful he finally looked. And I knew he was because he was finally with God now. As selfish as I was to want him to stay with me, I knew he was happy. As odd as it was at that time, I could have gone for the worst, loudest argument that we could have had. I never thought I would miss that. Even though we argued, fought and picked on eachother, I knew deep down that he loved me. There is an old saying that says “You don’t know what you have until it’s gone”. Don’t underestimate that statement because it is so true. I thought I would always have my dad to take my frustrations out on to be there for me but just as easily as he was here, he was taken from me. And though there were so many things that I wish I could say to him, I know that he hears me. I will never forget the times you made me angry, happy, smile and laugh. You were such a big part of my life and I will never ever forget you. I miss you more everyday and wish you were here Dad; I love you with all of my heart.