Catching up

I have always tried to count my blessings each and everyday but there are times when all I can think about are the things that I don't have and not about the things that I do have. However, these last few months, I have learned the hard way that God can give freely with his blessings but if we don't fully appreciate them, he can snag them away in second.

WARNING: Very long post but worth telling. I think anyway :)

Let me explain....The first part of May, my dad had a routine colonoscopy that turned bad in a hurry. He ended up with a perforated bowel and for two days his body cavity filled with toxins. When the doctors finally found the problem regarding severe cramps that my dad had tried to explain to them, he ended up coding on the operating table. There was a moment when God took my dad away from us. The doctors revived him and for two days, the doctors and nurses tried to stabilize him enough for surgery. He was on a ventilator and was in an induced coma. I cannot begin to explain my emotions of when I first seen him with the tube in his mouth. My knees were so weak and my heart didn't beat and all I could see was that horrible blue tube and the constant whooshing sound of the ventilator. My dad, the man that walks on water and who has never showed weakness, was laying on the hospital bed with doctors, nurses and everybody in between working to keep my dad alive. For that rest of the day and night, Dad's blood pressure dropped, his heart rate continued to climb and his temperature never went down, the doctors would come in and look in on him and they would have a look on their face that a blind person could tell was not hopeful. Blaine & I stayed the first night with him. For the rest of the night, I was holding Dad's hand, as I pleaded with him to get better and to come back. I pleaded with God, I cursed God...He can't take Dad away, we need him. Wasn't it enough he took Grandpa Marion away. I remember sitting in the chair watching the sun come up and thinking, "Is this the day, my dad leaves us? Will he choose to be with his mom and dad, who I am sure he misses greatly?"

Later that morning, the anesthesiologist, the internal doctor and the surgeon came in and decided that Dad wasn't going to get any better without surgery and that they were going to attempt it. The anesthesiologist stated that there was a better chance of Dad not making it then making it. He kept repeating, "He is very sick. He is very sick" No shit, Sherlock, I can see that. If there was any doubt in my head, all I had to do was hear the whooshing sound of the ventilator or look at my dad with the hundreds of needles and tubes connected to him. As they wheeled Dad out, Mom, Matt & I struggled to keep each other up as they went down the hall. The room kept spinning and all I could think about is Dad not coming back and I never got to tell him that I loved him. It wasn't hard to think that way, everyone in the ICU was somber and had that look of pity when they looked at us. For the next fours hours, we paced the hospital halls and Dad's room. The nurses were absolutely wonderful and kept us updated. The first shining moment was when Dad made it past the spinal tap. One hurdle down, six thousand to go. Finally, he arrived out of surgery with the tear repaired.

For the next five days, Dad continued to improve. I never thought that I would be grateful for little tiny bits of improvement. Yea, his temp went down .5 degrees. Yea, his heart rate went down 2. It was hard to explain to people how he was doing. They would ask if the ventilator was gone...no, but his temp is down .5. I truly thought they thought I was losing my mind. But that is how it was, my whole family was having mini happy dances every second that Dad was getting better. It was also interesting to see how visitors handled the ventilator, some would go completely white, others would just stand there, like they didn't know what to do. Poor Jay Calderwood came in the first day after surgery and I don't think that it was anything that he expected. He waltzed in like it was another day at the coffee shop. He immediately lost all color and after Matt & I said hello, he patted Dad's hand and walked out without a word. I felt so bad for him.

The internist, who was a dead ringer for Al from Tim the Tool man Taylor show ( the name of the show escapes me) came in day and night to check on him and on the third day the doctor said that they would start to wean him of the sedation meds and try to get the tube out. Who would have thought that Dad would be improving that much. He was definitely the miracle on the ICU floor. For two days, we tried to get Dad alert enough to respond to commands so that Doctor Lophgrin could remove the tube. We tried everything, we tickled his toes (which he hates with a passion), we talked to him constantly. Even Dr. Lophgrin yelled at him to wake up. When he first did that I wanted to deck him! How dare he yell at my dad but I realized he was just trying to help. We even offered him a cup of coffee! Nothing. The fourth day, the doctor gave him a boost of something to help him wake up. Mom and the ICU nurse was standing at the foot of the bed and Matt, Dr. Lophgrin and I were standing at the foot when he woke up. He seen all of us and then he looked at the nurse and raised his eyebrows in a way that it was so apparent that he thought she was cute. It was the funniest thing we had ever seen. Not only to see his eyes open but the fact that Dad can even flirt with a tube down his throat! The medication soon wore off and he went back to sleep. That I believe, up until that time, was one the best moments in my life.

After a few days, the tube was removed and I was fortunate enough to be there when it happened. Dad's voice was extremely hoarse but it was still the best sound on this earth. He was totally confused and thought that it was still Friday, the day the ambulance took him to Rexburg. Thankfully, he didn't remember anything. The joke of the family was that Doctor Lophgrin should give us all a little dash of the sedation medicine so that we could forget the past week.

He was finally in a regular room and was given morphine, which by the way, he will no longer ever have. I love the floating felling I get when I am on that stuff but Dad seen a booger monster, killers on the loose in the halls and Grandma and Grandpa van Leerdam (who are dead). He got mad at me for not giving Grandpa my chair and not getting him a cup of coffee. He was having a complete conversation with them! He even said to "Grandma" that I was so much like her but clumsy! It wasn't funny then but now I can laugh about it. Long story short, no more morphine for Dad.

Anyway, after ten days in the hospital, Dad was released and he was able to stay at Blaine and I's house. As awful as it sounds, I loved having to take care of Dad and was able to spend time with him. I thoroughly enjoyed taking care of his 14 in incision and helping take care and replacing his illiostomy bag and wafer. I was part of his healing process and I was totally in my element.

After that long, long week, I have consistently thanked God for letting Dad stay here. He is one of my greatest blessings and there is not a day go by that I am so grateful that he is alive and doing well. I have also prioritized things in the proper way. I am no longer so consumed by a clean house, I would rather spend time with my family. I can't say that I'm still not obsessive but I obsess about more serious stuff now. I guess God decided to give my family a little lesson in blessings and gratefulness. I don't know about the others but I for one will never forget counting my blessings.