I am not able to quantify the exhaustion that surrounds today. Not even close. As my dad was exhubated I was on pins and needles. As he continued to struggle to breathe, cough, and communicate I stared at his every move. His smile warmed my heart and when he told me that he loved me I was so glad and honored that I was able to hold his hand. The amount of stress that I carried around all afternoon watching every vital sign, every eye movement and tried to understand every breath -- it was exhausting. And when 3pm rolled around I felt the every bone in my body want to escape the walls of this hospital. I had left the room for about 3 minutes in order to give him privacy while the nurse was helping him. When I went back to grab my phone I could tell that my dad was not ok. Not even close. Within minutes he was intubated again. To say that this was crushing or that I was defeated...that does not even touch the range of emotions I felt. I sobbed into the phone to my husband from the hallway. Other families came to their doors in order to assess the commotion. Our nurse, Heather, was even in tears. So right now I do not know what is happening. His lungs are clear and his blood gasses were pretty good. Now there is something new and we started back at square at one. It's shocking, upsetting and confusing.
I have asked at least 1000 questions these past few days...at least. I understand the details of the drips, his vitals, the goals, and how long it takes to get there. I have seen more vent suctioning more than I ever care to experience in my life. I have fired a nurse (don't judge -- she made HUGE mistakes). And huge mistakes kill people in the hospital.
So here is the thing that I have to decide....I have to decide when to go home. Since we started back at square one we just tacked on a few weeks until my parents are home. The doctors have to figure out what is going on, find a solution, and then try to wean the vent again. I can't ask anymore questions, I can't muster the strength, I can't imagine sleeping on this fucking cot anymore. I want to stay with my dad. I feel like his only advocate. Though my mom is here -- I am the one who is able to explain everything to her. I feel the pull for me to stay. I realize the importance of mustering the courage. But how long do I stay? Weeks? Months? After today I realized how clearly that I don't know the end of this battle. When we did this dance with Erin I had the warmth of my own bed, the hands of my husband, and the family to help take on some of the burden. Here it's just us. My mom, my aunt, and my uncle.
I know that as I write this out I sound selfish. I sound scared and fearful. Courage and strength are not part of my make up today. I feel like I used them up.
I feel like I used them all up and I need to go home to refuel. I need to experience Jack lay his head on my shoulder as I sing him to sleep and I need hear Owen tell me the most minuscule details of his day. I need to fall into Mike's arms and sob freely while he just holds me. I need to just watch Cameron enjoy life and be a free spirit, reminding me to just stop and enjoy life.
My dad is my dad and to be honest I am not prepared to say goodbye. I don't have any interest. I am not saying that he is going die... I don't want to even imply. But since I am leaving the state, at least for a few days.. I need to figure out how to say goodbye.
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