dear dad part deux (tw: dying)

Currently listening to: everything i wanted – Billie Eilish

I don’t remember what happened after we landed in MSP.  Nor do I recall how we got to the hospital…I sincerely believe I disassociated at that moment.

We located the ICU and found my dad’s room.  It was dark and the machines were rhythmically beeping.  I ran to my mom, she grabbed the two of us, and hugged us ever so tightly for the first time in our lives.  She looked like she’d been run over by an eighteen wheeler.  Her face was puffy, she had multiple canker sores, and she appeared disheveled.  It was less than twenty four hours and our worlds were turned upside down.

I went to the nursing station and asked to speak with his nurse.  We spoke in private and she divulged what had transpired and that an EEG would be scheduled in the next couple of days.  He was receiving packed red blood cells, plasma, and platelet transfusions.  He lost a considerable amount of blood when he coded and the hemorrhaging in the body still hadn’t stopped.  He had cracked ribs when they performed CPR and a huge contusion that covered the entirety of his chest.

I told my brother to take mom home so that she could shower and rest if she wanted to.  I would stay with my dad as this was my expertise.  I knew as soon as I saw my dad, it was not going to end well.  He looked like he was in a vegetative state and when I did a cranial nerve examination, it confirmed my suspicions.  I looked at his chart and read every detail that was written by the hospital staff.

I pulled a chair up right next to his hospital bed, held his hand, and the tears began to flow down my face. Even though he was in a coma, I continued to speak freely to him as if he could comprehend what I was saying.  Studies have shown that hearing is the last sense to go and I wanted to let him know how much I loved him and that I was sorry for being such a shitty daughter.  I begged and pleaded for forgiveness.  Maybe if I stayed in Minnesota instead of galavanting to California, we wouldn’t be in this predicament.  I sat there bargaining with God…that if he would heal him, I promised to be perfect.  No more fucking up.  I would do everything that my parents asked, without any resistance.

Each time the nurses came to check his vital signs, changed his IV bags, or whenever the doctors rounded, I was there.  I didn’t want to miss anything.  I am naturally a light sleeper but I was extremely hypervigilant and easily startled ever since we touched down.  They apologized whenever they entered the room.  I supervised every intervention and procedure that was completed.  I asked when the neurologist and hepatologist would be rounding again.  I didn’t want to talk to the damn fucking hospitalist.  I was told that they would be back later in the afternoon.

I dozed off holding his hand tightly…

Maybe when I wake up, it will be nothing more than a horrible nightmare…and that God would answer my prayers…