So my day started at 5am after MAYBE 2 hours sleep because my father had to go in for a triple bypass surgery this morning. Since he went in for an angioplasty last week and this bombshell was dropped on my mother and I, our stress levels have gone through the roof. (as if they're not high as it is). After checking into the hospital, they brought my dad in for prep and said they'd come get us to see him before his surgery. I was set on edge a bit because last week, they only sent us out of the room for him to change and all that fun stuff. Turns out that even though he showered this morning, they had to give him another one then put him under a "heat tent." Basically, it's this tent-like thing that's connected to a tube, put under the blanket, and you're encased in warm air. I wish I had one of them for any of my surgeries and so did my mom. Throwing extra warmed blankets when it's freezing cold doesn't do much after about 5 minutes. I kinda want one for the house... the hell with the wood stove or heating oil. And then it began... the waiting.
The nurse told us to expect to hear from the surgeon around 1ish (it was about 9am when they were bringing him in) and even then, we'd only be able to see him for about 5 minutes while he was in intensive care recovering. So my mother and I made the necessary phone calls, texts, emails, etc. to keep everyone in the loop. This included her son who intended to come up after work, but given what we were told, he wouldn't be able to see my father until at the very earliest noon tomorrow. The cardiac waiting room was much fuller than it was the last time and we were told that we had about an hour from the time we went in if we wanted to grab a bite to eat, coffee, etc because that was about how long it would take the OR team to set him up for surgery. Someone was playing a piano somewhere on the waiting room floor, with some music I just couldn't fathom playing in front of a crowd anxiously awaiting word about their loved ones in surgery. I tried to tune it out as much as I could. Mom played on her Kindle while I did some reading, took a quick nap until we were finally brought into the counseling room at around 1pm. The news was about what we expected, his heart is pretty week, he was still knocked out and they'd wake him up over the course of a few hours, but be prepared that he'll not only be bloated and swollen, but he has tubes, IVs, and anything else you can think of medically stuck in, on, and around him. So we went back and waited until we were allowed to see him before having to go home.
Initially, we were told it would be about 15-20 minutes while the nurses hooked him back up to the monitors, reset the IV bags, etc etc etc. Turns out it's actually about an hour at least. It did give me time to sit back and think though. The surgeon made it very clear that unless he starts taking care of himself, he most likely won't make it another 20 years. My mother is on dialysis and on the transplant team with a waiting list of about a decade. I tried not to think about it, so I began looking around the waiting room. Some of the faces had been there about as long, if not longer than we had been. One family literally seemed to eat their way through the time, another paced along the window, some mindlessly watched television, while others appeared to retreat into themselves. It was at this point that I made the comment to my mother about her kidneys. Since her kidneys began to fail, I got tested and found out I was a match, but my immune system is too deficient to donate. I won't hold my breath about some others getting tested for one reason or another, so we did what we usually do when we're at our breaking point--we began cracking jokes. I'd give her my kidney while it's still in decent shape, but I'm going to need it back when my remaining one starts to go. It turned into a fit of laughter at the visualization and the sheer absurdity. Walking into the CICU, I realized just how everyone deals with stress differently. Some pretend nothing is wrong, others eat their way through stress (something I'm making pretty good progress on working through), some internalize all of it and don't bother to deal with any of it until too much has piled up, and others still find absurd (if not inappropriate things like an organ transplant/sharing) things to laugh at.
It has been brought to my attention that there are a select few who, while knowing nothing about me except assumptions, are under the impression that I am a miserable, angry, self-destructive person. The reality is, I'm far from it. Just like everyone else, I try to make it through whatever gets thrown my way, even if it is a series of Mack trucks while working towards my future. For the most part, that is most people I know. Everyone handles life's little curveballs differently. Until you walk a mile or spend a week in their shoes, living their life, you have no right to judge others.
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