My Story Contd.
Ok, so I here's a little more about my story.
After up and down reports on my dad's condition, I decided to fly up and got a ticket for Wednesday morning returning the next Tuesday. My husband stayed behind and would come up if things got worse. Two of my brothers were there when I arrived and one had come and gone already. At least my mom wasn't alone. We camped out in the waiting room for the ICU and took turns in my dad's room holding his hand during visiting hours. We didn't want to leave my dad alone. I don't know why, he wasn't going to open his eyes, he wasn't going to spontaneously crash, we just didn't want him to be alone.
Our hopes grew when the orthopedic surgeon came in to see my dad and scheduled a time for surgery on the rest of his body. In the accident not only his skull was crushed, but also his left hip and elbow were crushed too. We knew that he wouldn't go into surgery unless they were confident that his brain pressure would stay normal under the situations. He was kept under the entire time to allow his body to focus on healing instead of being awake. He couldn't move voluntarily anyways, but was in so much pain that his body would involuntarily shudder. Once every few hours they would bring him out of anesthesia and rub his sternum very hard to try to see what would move. Sometimes his toes would move and we would get very excited because they were voluntary moves. We never really knew his condition because it would change so much. We didn't know what constituted progress and what constituted set-backs.
The worst moment of my life happened Friday evening when we met with the director of the ICU. He told us that there was no chance of my father ever improving. If he continued to live, he would continue as he was in ICU. There was no chance for recovery. My dad had a living will. If this situation were to happen, that there would be no chance for recovery, that we were to let him return to God. We knew this is what we had to do.
The brother who wasn't there caught the first flight he could. We spent a few hours crammed in that little room crying and laughing, talking about dad and his life. After we prayed and sang a hymn, the ICU nurse turned off the machines.
The next hour was awful. My dad wasn't dead; he just couldn't survive without the machines. We didn't know how long it would take for him to pass after the machines were removed. This is the hardest part for me to remember. My dad labored for breath for just over an hour. His chest moved up and down. Each breath was a little shallower than the last. I knew that he wasn't really there, but it was so hard to hear him breathe like that and have us wait for him to die. Why couldn't we do something? I didn't want to hear it anymore so I curled up on my chair and tried to sleep instead of waiting. I was dozing when my brother woke me and said that it had happened. We prayed and sang again and then left. It was about 3:00 am.
My mom's bishop and his wife came up to drive us all to my parent's house. Food and well-wishers rolled in. The funeral was held on Wednesday. I gave the eulogy and my half-sister played a beautiful violin piece. Two of my dad's former students played a song that my dad composed. The place was packed.
My husband and I drove home on Thursday. Life went back to normal day-to-day for me, I just felt empty and sad.
After up and down reports on my dad's condition, I decided to fly up and got a ticket for Wednesday morning returning the next Tuesday. My husband stayed behind and would come up if things got worse. Two of my brothers were there when I arrived and one had come and gone already. At least my mom wasn't alone. We camped out in the waiting room for the ICU and took turns in my dad's room holding his hand during visiting hours. We didn't want to leave my dad alone. I don't know why, he wasn't going to open his eyes, he wasn't going to spontaneously crash, we just didn't want him to be alone.
Our hopes grew when the orthopedic surgeon came in to see my dad and scheduled a time for surgery on the rest of his body. In the accident not only his skull was crushed, but also his left hip and elbow were crushed too. We knew that he wouldn't go into surgery unless they were confident that his brain pressure would stay normal under the situations. He was kept under the entire time to allow his body to focus on healing instead of being awake. He couldn't move voluntarily anyways, but was in so much pain that his body would involuntarily shudder. Once every few hours they would bring him out of anesthesia and rub his sternum very hard to try to see what would move. Sometimes his toes would move and we would get very excited because they were voluntary moves. We never really knew his condition because it would change so much. We didn't know what constituted progress and what constituted set-backs.
The worst moment of my life happened Friday evening when we met with the director of the ICU. He told us that there was no chance of my father ever improving. If he continued to live, he would continue as he was in ICU. There was no chance for recovery. My dad had a living will. If this situation were to happen, that there would be no chance for recovery, that we were to let him return to God. We knew this is what we had to do.
The brother who wasn't there caught the first flight he could. We spent a few hours crammed in that little room crying and laughing, talking about dad and his life. After we prayed and sang a hymn, the ICU nurse turned off the machines.
The next hour was awful. My dad wasn't dead; he just couldn't survive without the machines. We didn't know how long it would take for him to pass after the machines were removed. This is the hardest part for me to remember. My dad labored for breath for just over an hour. His chest moved up and down. Each breath was a little shallower than the last. I knew that he wasn't really there, but it was so hard to hear him breathe like that and have us wait for him to die. Why couldn't we do something? I didn't want to hear it anymore so I curled up on my chair and tried to sleep instead of waiting. I was dozing when my brother woke me and said that it had happened. We prayed and sang again and then left. It was about 3:00 am.
My mom's bishop and his wife came up to drive us all to my parent's house. Food and well-wishers rolled in. The funeral was held on Wednesday. I gave the eulogy and my half-sister played a beautiful violin piece. Two of my dad's former students played a song that my dad composed. The place was packed.
My husband and I drove home on Thursday. Life went back to normal day-to-day for me, I just felt empty and sad.
posted by Julia | 10:41 AM
1 Comments:
I don't know about you, but I think I'd prefer N's choice to contact you asap by whatever means (internet message or not), than to have my brother beat around the bush with chit chat before telling me the bad news. He shouldn't have gotten mad at her. People think the internet is impersonal, but if that's what works, do it.
Thank you so much for this blog. I hope those who are reeling from loss can find your insight comforting. I especially enjoyed the post about what to do/say as opposed to what not to do/say. It's so difficult, sometimes I choose not to say ANYTHING for fear that it will be misunderstood or non-intentionally hurt them. Emotions are so raw after a death.
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