This morning all of the little people in my house woke up a little more excited than usual. We had a playdate! I shared in a previous blog that one of my good friends had put me in touch with one of her very best friends here in our little town. Audra is also a preacher's wife and mother of 3. I so enjoyed getting to talk with her at our last playdate and I have to admit that I was as excited as the kids to have someone my own age to play with. :)
I have been so blessed with friends of all ages and various seasons of life. I've learned so much from my friends who are older and have older kids. They share their advice and wisdom and remind me to slow down and enjoy these days. I also enjoy my friends who are younger or just in a different season of singleness or just married. I *try* to share my wisdom with them. I have to say though, it did my heart good today to be with someone my age in my exact same season. As the kids rotated from bedrooms to the playroom to the backyard, Audra and I attempted a conversation. We shared mommy talk about ear infections, good sales at Children's Place and homeschooling. Many times we were each interrupted by a crying baby or hungry preschooler. It was great to spend the morning with someone who can wipe snot, serve capri suns, and push a swing without missing a beat in the conversation. :)
It was during some swing pushing that Audra asked how I've been doing grieving my Dad. Not only is Audra a homeschooling mother of 3 and a preacher's wife, but she also worked for Hospice doing the exact same job I did. I know that she was excellent at her job because I immediately felt like I could open up to her. I shared with her some of my struggles and it was during that conversation that she began to cry. For me. I was overwhelmed by such a sincere, genuine expression of compassion. It made me feel free to cry. So we cried. And it meant more than a million words ever could. I was reminded of Jesus' words when He told us to, "Rejoice with those who rejoice; mourn with those who mourn." Romans 12:15.
Thank you Audra for mourning with me! And thank you Jesus, for knowing just what I need!
Showing posts with label My Daddy. Show all posts
Showing posts with label My Daddy. Show all posts
Tuesday, April 27, 2010
Thursday, March 4, 2010
I'm Moving, Daddy
Guess what Dad? I'm moving. Again. To Port St. Joe! Can you believe that? I hadn't told you that it was even a possibility because I didn't want to get your hopes up in case it didn't work out. But it did work out and we will be living a block from the Gulf of Mexico. Don't you know the kids are going to love it this summer? Well, that is if I'm not to lazy to lug them and a bunch of stuff to the beach. You know me and my lazy self. I'm not sure what hurricane season will be like, but the pastorium and the church seem to have held up pretty well so far. Hurricane season won't be the same without you. :)
As I was packing up the kitchen at 2:00 this morning I thought about how much I wish I could call you and get a pep talk. You would tell me one of your hilarious moving stories and tell me to hang in there. You would probably remind me of the time you and Josh moved our 800 pound sectional and the washer/dryer UPSTAIRS to our first apartment. You would say again how grateful you were that Josh helped you move out of the house on Old Bicycle. We would laugh about the night we thought our bladders were going to burst and the three vehicles moving us were going to run out of gas before we made it to the house we had never seen in Enterprise. I would tease you about the fact that you and Mr. Bucky were too chicken to stay in the hotmess of a house we moved into. :)
I've wondered if God has told you about our move. If it does your heart good to know that we will be close to Mama and that Sarah has already planned dinner and movie dates with her. That Josh is planning to help Philip work on his brakes. Phil is doing an amazing job taking care of Mama and I know you are proud. I hope it does your heart good to know that we are all going to be there to give Jenny a baby shower soon. She's having a girl, Dad and her name is going to be Lyla Grace. Isn't that the sweetest, most southern name you've ever heard? I know your first words to Jenny would have been, "Alright! We're gonna have a little Jenny girl."
I also wonder if it does your heart good to know that you won't have to break your back moving furniture this time. It's okay, I too will appreciate the day I get to move into my Heavenly home and STAY THERE!!! I often have to remind myself that you have moved into your Heavenly home. Life has been so hectic and crazy that at times it's easy to think you are still in P.C. Like we just haven't had a chance to talk or the internet has been down. Sometimes I will stop for a second and think "My Dad is dead." It just doesn't seem real. I know it will when we move. The last time we were in Panama City (when the Saints won the Super Bowl!!!!) I realized that there isn't a square inch of that city that doesn't hold a memory of you. I sure was looking forward to renewing our Saturday morning breakfast ritual at Burger King. But I know you are enjoying a feast I can't imagine and I have to lay off of the fast food anyway. Can you imagine the things we will have to discuss when we are reunited at that table??
We miss you Daddy. Sarah Beth is practically grown and just the sweetest thing. She has come a long way since the terrible 2's and the night you had to intervene and save her from my wrath. Well, actually there were many of those times. She will probably never drink a Sprite without thinking about you. Eli is still addicted to Movie Gallery and still thinks every object is fit to be a ball or bat. He was lifting my handweights the other night and told me "I'm getting ready for Keeley." Ha! The girls here are still crazy about him and chase him down any chance they get. You really wouldn't believe Kate. She asks to call Pappy all the time. She saw your picture and said, "Pappy cute." She is just a mess. The last time we were with Jenny, Dillon and Luke she told Luke, "Don't take my chips baby!" You would have been proud. Nobody was gonna mess with her chips! :)
Well, I've got to get back to 8 million loads of laundry and packing. Do we have to do laundry in Heaven? Just curious....
I love you Daddy!
As I was packing up the kitchen at 2:00 this morning I thought about how much I wish I could call you and get a pep talk. You would tell me one of your hilarious moving stories and tell me to hang in there. You would probably remind me of the time you and Josh moved our 800 pound sectional and the washer/dryer UPSTAIRS to our first apartment. You would say again how grateful you were that Josh helped you move out of the house on Old Bicycle. We would laugh about the night we thought our bladders were going to burst and the three vehicles moving us were going to run out of gas before we made it to the house we had never seen in Enterprise. I would tease you about the fact that you and Mr. Bucky were too chicken to stay in the hotmess of a house we moved into. :)
I've wondered if God has told you about our move. If it does your heart good to know that we will be close to Mama and that Sarah has already planned dinner and movie dates with her. That Josh is planning to help Philip work on his brakes. Phil is doing an amazing job taking care of Mama and I know you are proud. I hope it does your heart good to know that we are all going to be there to give Jenny a baby shower soon. She's having a girl, Dad and her name is going to be Lyla Grace. Isn't that the sweetest, most southern name you've ever heard? I know your first words to Jenny would have been, "Alright! We're gonna have a little Jenny girl."
I also wonder if it does your heart good to know that you won't have to break your back moving furniture this time. It's okay, I too will appreciate the day I get to move into my Heavenly home and STAY THERE!!! I often have to remind myself that you have moved into your Heavenly home. Life has been so hectic and crazy that at times it's easy to think you are still in P.C. Like we just haven't had a chance to talk or the internet has been down. Sometimes I will stop for a second and think "My Dad is dead." It just doesn't seem real. I know it will when we move. The last time we were in Panama City (when the Saints won the Super Bowl!!!!) I realized that there isn't a square inch of that city that doesn't hold a memory of you. I sure was looking forward to renewing our Saturday morning breakfast ritual at Burger King. But I know you are enjoying a feast I can't imagine and I have to lay off of the fast food anyway. Can you imagine the things we will have to discuss when we are reunited at that table??
We miss you Daddy. Sarah Beth is practically grown and just the sweetest thing. She has come a long way since the terrible 2's and the night you had to intervene and save her from my wrath. Well, actually there were many of those times. She will probably never drink a Sprite without thinking about you. Eli is still addicted to Movie Gallery and still thinks every object is fit to be a ball or bat. He was lifting my handweights the other night and told me "I'm getting ready for Keeley." Ha! The girls here are still crazy about him and chase him down any chance they get. You really wouldn't believe Kate. She asks to call Pappy all the time. She saw your picture and said, "Pappy cute." She is just a mess. The last time we were with Jenny, Dillon and Luke she told Luke, "Don't take my chips baby!" You would have been proud. Nobody was gonna mess with her chips! :)
Well, I've got to get back to 8 million loads of laundry and packing. Do we have to do laundry in Heaven? Just curious....
I love you Daddy!
Monday, January 25, 2010
The Nightmare Before Christmas
Today it is one month since my Daddy left us. I wish I could say, "This now concludes the grieving portion of life", but unfortunately that doesn't seem to be the case. I must say that this is the first day in my entire life that I am feeling a high after a football game. In case you didn't see my 1,800 status updates on Facebook, the Saints won last night and are going to the Super Bowl!!!!!!!!!!!! Y'all, I don't know the first thing about football and no matter how hard I try, it rarely ever holds my attention. But last night, I can't explain it. My Daddy was the BIGGEST Saints fan ever and has rooted for them through the good and the bad. I loved that game because I felt close to my Dad. I could see him jumping off the couch, pacing the room, and screaming at the TV. I could hear him saying, "WHO DAT? WHO DAT?" If he had enjoyed hunting or carpentry maybe I would now find comfort in those things. But, my Daddy loved football and specifically the the Saints.`As my family, my Mom, sister, Uncles and cousins "watched" the game together through Facebook, and rooted for that underdog team, I couldn't help but think of the night exactly a month ago when my Daddy was taken off of life support and we were joined together in a tragic way that will bond us forever.
I made sure to grab the Saints stocking that was hanging from an IV pole in my Dad's ICU room to take with us to the private room he was being taken to. I bought him that stocking for Christmas one year and wanted him to have it at the hospital. It had been holding a fake, purple flower that Sarah had made sure to send for Pappy when I had left for Florida on Dec. 19. My family had made the decision hours earlier to take my Dad off of life support and we had waited anxiously for the Dr. to come and sign the papers. Once he had been taken off my cousin, Drew, and Uncle Reggie went to see him so they could come back and prepare us for what we would be seeing. We all made our way to his room and were instantly overcome with grief at the sight of his extremely labored breathing. To make things even worse, although his eyes had been closed since Sunday and he had just looked like he was sleeping, they were now open, although totally unaware. I am scared to even say that I will never witness anything so horrific again in my life, but that moment will definitely be burned in my memory for life. We held hands as a family and prayed over my Daddy. This time the prayers were no longer for miraculous healing, but for Jesus to comfort him and take him quickly. You see, we were told when we made the decision that he could still live for a few hours...or weeks. My Uncle Reggie was the last to pray over my Daddy and just yesterday I thought about that moment. Him praying over the brother who had come into the world at the same time as him and he was releasing him, telling him it was okay to go.
After that prayer we spent a few more hours in ICU waiting for his private room. It was during that time of waiting that my Aunt Trish came back to tell us about the man who had come up to her in the waiting room and told her he had been watching our family all night. He too, had lost a twin brother and someone else on Christmas. When Trish asked him who he was there for, he simply answered, "Oh, I'm just here for y'all." We never did find out who he was or see him again.
They finally came to move my Dad to a private room and that is when I grabbed his stocking. My Mom and I went up in the elevator with him and the nurses. It was such a surreal moment. I was taking my Daddy to the room he would die in. When we got to the room they started trying to round up chairs for our crew. I'm pretty sure we got every chair on the floor. It was so incredibly difficult to watch him struggle to breathe. They had placed an oxygen mask on him because his oxygen level had started dropping so quickly when he first came off of the ventilator. Uncle Reggie told us more childhood stories and I teased him that he was the reason my Dad was such a worrywart. Uncle Reg had spent his life jumping out of trees and off of roofs. I wished so much my Dad would start telling us his side of the stories...
The time moved slow. There were only so many times to go to the drink machine, the bathroom or check messages. There was just no way to ease the suffering. For my Dad or anyone in that room watching him. I thought of a time I was doing my internship in the ER and I sat with a man who was dying. His family hadn't gotten there yet and I had felt that someone needed to be with him. My supervisor, knowing I wanted to work with Hospice, had come in and explained the physiology of dying. She had seen it as a learning opportunity. As I sat with my Dad the physiology of dying wasn't on my mind. His heart was still beating and his lungs were still breathing, but my Daddy had been gone for almost a week. In fact, I think Dec. 19th will be the day that is hardest for me. That is the day I really lost my Dad. That was the day this new learning opportunity I never wanted started.
Things would only get worse that night. The respiratory therapist came in and someone asked her about the oxygen mask and if it was just prolonging the inevitable. She went off. She told us if it were her family member she would never take off the oxygen mask and she used the word "suffocation" which I will be honest, is all I heard. Drew was furious. He said he had never seen anyone mess up a consult so bad. I had to agree that while I wanted someone to be honest with us, it was not professional for her to tell us what she would do in that situation. That sent us all in a tailspin as we all tried to absorb that information and decide what to do. At that point I went to the conference room where the drink machine was and had a mini nervous breakdown. As I finished I looked up to see a hospital employee standing at the other end of the room. Mental note: Always check and make sure a room is empty BEFORE you have a nervous breakdown.
Josh and I found the respiratory therapist and asked her some questions. I was very confused because we kept being told that my Dad couldn't feel pain and then we were told he had some pain reflex. The biggest thing I learned through all of this is that as far as we have come scientifically and medically, there are just a lot of things we still don't know. Especially concerning the brain. Anyway, she explained that if we took the oxygen mask off that it would very difficult for the family to be present when he died. She suggested slowly turning down the oxygen and upping his Morphine. I went back and we had a family conference and we decided that was the best thing to do.
Again, it was so surreal. It was Christmas Eve and my family was discussing which would be the best way for my Dad to die. Finally, about 2:00 Christmas morning almost everyone had left to go home and get some sleep. My Mom and brother, Philip, were having cots brought in to spend the night. Uncle Reggie was staying too. Josh and I left to go do our Santa duties. I cannot say enough good things about my husband. Not only did he have to pack up 3 kids and a dog and make a six hour trip by himself, but he also had to go by our storage shed and load up unwrapped Christmas presents with the kids in the van. He is amazing. He did, however, forget to grab the bag of stocking stuffers and so, at 2:00 Christmas morning we set out to find an open store. There was one. A convenience store. My Mom still has stockings at her house for EVERYBODY. I decided it would be fun to do everybody's. Y'all we spent $92.00!!! At a gas station!! We were carrying armfuls of candy, pens, duct tape, tire gauges, and pickles. (My sister is pregnant. I couldn't resist getting her a pickle. :) The guy ringing it up (who I'm sure hated our guts) told us he had never had anyone spend that much money on anything besides gas, beer, or cigarettes! Leave it to us to break the record! I couldn't help but think that my Dad would have loved that story.
We made it to my Mom's and started wrapping presents. My poor brother-in-law, Dillon, was trying to sleep on the couch, but he got up to help us. I usually have all of the presents wrapped besides the Santa ones, but I hadn't done it this year because Kate is at the age where I couldn't put any presents under the tree yet. So, we had to wrap everything! And, the kids had made a pallet on the floor...in front of the tree! We were making so much noise. I just knew we were going to blow it big time, but apparently the kids were as tired as everybody else b/c they never even flinched. (The next day Sarah asked me how Santa had put the presents out without waking them up. I told her Santa is just really good! :) I also found out later that we had eaten the WRONG cookies and thankfully my sister, Jenny, had eaten the RIGHT Santa cookies that morning before she left for the hospital!
After that we loaded up some pillows and blankets to take to Mom and Phil at the hospital. We went back and talked with Uncle Reg some. My Dad seemed a little more restful. Or maybe I had just gotten accustomed to seeing him like that. I don't know. Finally, about 4:30 Josh convinced me to go back to the house and try to get some sleep. I kissed my Daddy's cheek and said good-bye. The whole sleep thing was a bad idea. I don't know what time it was when the kids woke us up, but it hurt! I sat on the floor in a daze while they opened presents. My contacts were glued to my eyes. I've never had cement glue in my eyes, but I imagine that is what it would feel like. I guess non-stop crying and sleep deprivation will have that effect. We survived the opening of presents and minutes after finishing Dillon came and put his arm around me and I knew. My Dad was gone.
I had slept in my jeans and Philip's gray hoodie that I had borrowed the morning before when we went to the hospital. The morning before I knew we would be spending the night watching my Dad die. I took off and headed back to the hospital. I hadn't been there. I hadn't been there when he took his last breath. I wanted to be upset, but there is no doubt in my mind that he would have been upset if I hadn't been with the kids opening Christmas presents.
I have to say that when I got there I lost it. As I shared in my last post, all I could say was, "I'm just gonna miss him." But once, I calmed down, I had such a peace. Because he was finally at peace. My Uncle Jamie hugged me and I warned him that I hadn't had a shower. We went to another room to wait for the dr. to come talk to us. Dr. Adhal had been my Dad's primary doctor for many years. After he finished talking with us I found myself chasing him out of the room. I told him that my Dad had always talked so highly of him and really thought a lot of him. I thanked him. He had a tear in his eye and told me that he considered my Dad a friend and that he was just sorry. I will be completely honest here and tell you that one of the things that made me the saddest is that I don't feel like my Dad knew how much people loved, respected and admired him. So please, if there is someone you love, respect, or admire, you should tell them today.
When I left the hospital I went by CVS because I had not bought Josh a single Christmas present and they were the only store open. Poor Josh, he got a memory foam pillow and a clothes steamer. :) At home Josh and Dillon had fixed a delicious Christmas dinner for us. Dillon said all he did was help peel the eggs, but I considered that cooking for years, so I'm giving him credit too. :)After we ate everybody else decided to go out to the base and hang out with the rest of the family, but I just couldn't do it. I have never been so exhausted in my life. Kate crawled up in my Uncle Jamie's lap and fell asleep so Josh and I decided we would lay her down and we would take a nap too. When I laid down it was the first time that whole week that everything hit me. I have never cried like that in my life. And, then, I fell asleep. I wish I could tell you here that I woke up and it was all just a bad dream. It wasn't. I woke up and the nightmare was even more real than before.
I made sure to grab the Saints stocking that was hanging from an IV pole in my Dad's ICU room to take with us to the private room he was being taken to. I bought him that stocking for Christmas one year and wanted him to have it at the hospital. It had been holding a fake, purple flower that Sarah had made sure to send for Pappy when I had left for Florida on Dec. 19. My family had made the decision hours earlier to take my Dad off of life support and we had waited anxiously for the Dr. to come and sign the papers. Once he had been taken off my cousin, Drew, and Uncle Reggie went to see him so they could come back and prepare us for what we would be seeing. We all made our way to his room and were instantly overcome with grief at the sight of his extremely labored breathing. To make things even worse, although his eyes had been closed since Sunday and he had just looked like he was sleeping, they were now open, although totally unaware. I am scared to even say that I will never witness anything so horrific again in my life, but that moment will definitely be burned in my memory for life. We held hands as a family and prayed over my Daddy. This time the prayers were no longer for miraculous healing, but for Jesus to comfort him and take him quickly. You see, we were told when we made the decision that he could still live for a few hours...or weeks. My Uncle Reggie was the last to pray over my Daddy and just yesterday I thought about that moment. Him praying over the brother who had come into the world at the same time as him and he was releasing him, telling him it was okay to go.
After that prayer we spent a few more hours in ICU waiting for his private room. It was during that time of waiting that my Aunt Trish came back to tell us about the man who had come up to her in the waiting room and told her he had been watching our family all night. He too, had lost a twin brother and someone else on Christmas. When Trish asked him who he was there for, he simply answered, "Oh, I'm just here for y'all." We never did find out who he was or see him again.
They finally came to move my Dad to a private room and that is when I grabbed his stocking. My Mom and I went up in the elevator with him and the nurses. It was such a surreal moment. I was taking my Daddy to the room he would die in. When we got to the room they started trying to round up chairs for our crew. I'm pretty sure we got every chair on the floor. It was so incredibly difficult to watch him struggle to breathe. They had placed an oxygen mask on him because his oxygen level had started dropping so quickly when he first came off of the ventilator. Uncle Reggie told us more childhood stories and I teased him that he was the reason my Dad was such a worrywart. Uncle Reg had spent his life jumping out of trees and off of roofs. I wished so much my Dad would start telling us his side of the stories...
The time moved slow. There were only so many times to go to the drink machine, the bathroom or check messages. There was just no way to ease the suffering. For my Dad or anyone in that room watching him. I thought of a time I was doing my internship in the ER and I sat with a man who was dying. His family hadn't gotten there yet and I had felt that someone needed to be with him. My supervisor, knowing I wanted to work with Hospice, had come in and explained the physiology of dying. She had seen it as a learning opportunity. As I sat with my Dad the physiology of dying wasn't on my mind. His heart was still beating and his lungs were still breathing, but my Daddy had been gone for almost a week. In fact, I think Dec. 19th will be the day that is hardest for me. That is the day I really lost my Dad. That was the day this new learning opportunity I never wanted started.
Things would only get worse that night. The respiratory therapist came in and someone asked her about the oxygen mask and if it was just prolonging the inevitable. She went off. She told us if it were her family member she would never take off the oxygen mask and she used the word "suffocation" which I will be honest, is all I heard. Drew was furious. He said he had never seen anyone mess up a consult so bad. I had to agree that while I wanted someone to be honest with us, it was not professional for her to tell us what she would do in that situation. That sent us all in a tailspin as we all tried to absorb that information and decide what to do. At that point I went to the conference room where the drink machine was and had a mini nervous breakdown. As I finished I looked up to see a hospital employee standing at the other end of the room. Mental note: Always check and make sure a room is empty BEFORE you have a nervous breakdown.
Josh and I found the respiratory therapist and asked her some questions. I was very confused because we kept being told that my Dad couldn't feel pain and then we were told he had some pain reflex. The biggest thing I learned through all of this is that as far as we have come scientifically and medically, there are just a lot of things we still don't know. Especially concerning the brain. Anyway, she explained that if we took the oxygen mask off that it would very difficult for the family to be present when he died. She suggested slowly turning down the oxygen and upping his Morphine. I went back and we had a family conference and we decided that was the best thing to do.
Again, it was so surreal. It was Christmas Eve and my family was discussing which would be the best way for my Dad to die. Finally, about 2:00 Christmas morning almost everyone had left to go home and get some sleep. My Mom and brother, Philip, were having cots brought in to spend the night. Uncle Reggie was staying too. Josh and I left to go do our Santa duties. I cannot say enough good things about my husband. Not only did he have to pack up 3 kids and a dog and make a six hour trip by himself, but he also had to go by our storage shed and load up unwrapped Christmas presents with the kids in the van. He is amazing. He did, however, forget to grab the bag of stocking stuffers and so, at 2:00 Christmas morning we set out to find an open store. There was one. A convenience store. My Mom still has stockings at her house for EVERYBODY. I decided it would be fun to do everybody's. Y'all we spent $92.00!!! At a gas station!! We were carrying armfuls of candy, pens, duct tape, tire gauges, and pickles. (My sister is pregnant. I couldn't resist getting her a pickle. :) The guy ringing it up (who I'm sure hated our guts) told us he had never had anyone spend that much money on anything besides gas, beer, or cigarettes! Leave it to us to break the record! I couldn't help but think that my Dad would have loved that story.
We made it to my Mom's and started wrapping presents. My poor brother-in-law, Dillon, was trying to sleep on the couch, but he got up to help us. I usually have all of the presents wrapped besides the Santa ones, but I hadn't done it this year because Kate is at the age where I couldn't put any presents under the tree yet. So, we had to wrap everything! And, the kids had made a pallet on the floor...in front of the tree! We were making so much noise. I just knew we were going to blow it big time, but apparently the kids were as tired as everybody else b/c they never even flinched. (The next day Sarah asked me how Santa had put the presents out without waking them up. I told her Santa is just really good! :) I also found out later that we had eaten the WRONG cookies and thankfully my sister, Jenny, had eaten the RIGHT Santa cookies that morning before she left for the hospital!
After that we loaded up some pillows and blankets to take to Mom and Phil at the hospital. We went back and talked with Uncle Reg some. My Dad seemed a little more restful. Or maybe I had just gotten accustomed to seeing him like that. I don't know. Finally, about 4:30 Josh convinced me to go back to the house and try to get some sleep. I kissed my Daddy's cheek and said good-bye. The whole sleep thing was a bad idea. I don't know what time it was when the kids woke us up, but it hurt! I sat on the floor in a daze while they opened presents. My contacts were glued to my eyes. I've never had cement glue in my eyes, but I imagine that is what it would feel like. I guess non-stop crying and sleep deprivation will have that effect. We survived the opening of presents and minutes after finishing Dillon came and put his arm around me and I knew. My Dad was gone.
I had slept in my jeans and Philip's gray hoodie that I had borrowed the morning before when we went to the hospital. The morning before I knew we would be spending the night watching my Dad die. I took off and headed back to the hospital. I hadn't been there. I hadn't been there when he took his last breath. I wanted to be upset, but there is no doubt in my mind that he would have been upset if I hadn't been with the kids opening Christmas presents.
I have to say that when I got there I lost it. As I shared in my last post, all I could say was, "I'm just gonna miss him." But once, I calmed down, I had such a peace. Because he was finally at peace. My Uncle Jamie hugged me and I warned him that I hadn't had a shower. We went to another room to wait for the dr. to come talk to us. Dr. Adhal had been my Dad's primary doctor for many years. After he finished talking with us I found myself chasing him out of the room. I told him that my Dad had always talked so highly of him and really thought a lot of him. I thanked him. He had a tear in his eye and told me that he considered my Dad a friend and that he was just sorry. I will be completely honest here and tell you that one of the things that made me the saddest is that I don't feel like my Dad knew how much people loved, respected and admired him. So please, if there is someone you love, respect, or admire, you should tell them today.
When I left the hospital I went by CVS because I had not bought Josh a single Christmas present and they were the only store open. Poor Josh, he got a memory foam pillow and a clothes steamer. :) At home Josh and Dillon had fixed a delicious Christmas dinner for us. Dillon said all he did was help peel the eggs, but I considered that cooking for years, so I'm giving him credit too. :)After we ate everybody else decided to go out to the base and hang out with the rest of the family, but I just couldn't do it. I have never been so exhausted in my life. Kate crawled up in my Uncle Jamie's lap and fell asleep so Josh and I decided we would lay her down and we would take a nap too. When I laid down it was the first time that whole week that everything hit me. I have never cried like that in my life. And, then, I fell asleep. I wish I could tell you here that I woke up and it was all just a bad dream. It wasn't. I woke up and the nightmare was even more real than before.
Sunday, January 17, 2010
The Nightmare Before Christmas: Continued
No matter how much progress I make every day, when I lay down in bed and close my eyes my mind takes me back to the hospital, back to that week. For the first few nights after my Dad was gone I would sit up and ask Josh, "We did the right thing, didn't we?" He would assure me we did.
I guess I need to go back to Wednesday of that week. We had been told Tuesday night that we should hear from the neurologist what the results of the CT scan were on Wed. I won't even pretend that I wasn't scared. I was having my fair share of denial, but I knew the fact that he was still unresponsive was not good. Wed. morning came and no news from the neurologist. I was pretty sure there was a note on the chart that said, "Patient's daughter obsessively asks for neurologist." Finally, my Mom talked to the neurologist on the phone. ON THE PHONE. My dad had been unresponsive since Saturday morning and this was Wednesday and we only got a phone call from the neurologist. Maddening. That's the only word I know to explain it. She told my Mom she wanted to wait until they did the EEG and ANOTHER CT scan before she talked to us. Good grief. I have to tell you, patience is NOT a Strickland trait.
We went home to have lunch during the break between visiting hours. Bro. Randy had reminded us that our family members could stay out at the air force base if someone could sponsor them. My sister and brother-in-law went out to help set up those accommodations and Uncle Reggie called to let us know that he had set up an appointment with a patient advocate so we could discuss some of our issues with Nurse Ratchet and the fact that we still had NO answers 5 days after my Dad being admitted to the hospital. My Mom, Uncle Jamie and I met with the lady they sent to us and I began explaining that while we had been very happy with the care my Dad had received, we were upset with Nurse Ratchet and our lack of answers. She tried to get ahold of someone else we needed to talk to and we told her we would be in Dad's room when that person was ready to meet with us. We finally talked with that lady and it was not long after that we found out Dr. B., the cardiologist, was coming to talk to us. The nurse took us to the conference room. You DO NOT, I repeat DO NOT want a dr. to take you to the conference room. Trust me.
We waited nervously. Dr. B came in and explained that the CT Scan showed some ischemia (damage or deficiency in the brain). He also explained that the neurologist was waiting to read the EEG along with CT Scan. I thought I would remember word for word what he told us, but I don't. In fact, I'm pretty sure I was not comprehending it at all. I asked him what that meant as far as how much damage was done. He gave me a sympathetic look, I started crying uncontrollably and he nodded. Too much damage. At that point, I knew how things were going to end, but I just couldn't accept it until we talked with the neurologist and heard the official report. Before we left the hospital I ran back to my Dad's room to grab my Mom's purse or something. I wish I could tell you I was filled with peace and ready to accept whatever God's Will was. I wasn't. I begged my Daddy to come back.
My cousin Katie and Aunt Trish had fixed us a great supper and I stopped by my mother-in-law's to pick up the kids and some spaghetti she had made. We went out to the base to have supper with everyone and then it was time to head back to the hospital. I had asked on Facebook that other believers pray at 8:30 that night as I was planning to have a special prayer over my Dad at that time. Well, when I stepped off of the elevator 5 of the people we had gone to church with in Panama City we're waiting. Bro.Randy and his wife Mrs.Kathy soon joined them. They joined hands with me, my Mom, Jenny, my Uncle Jamie and Aunt Kat and my cousin Marla had asked that we call her on speaker phone and let her be a part. We cried out to God. It was one of the most amazing times of prayer I've ever experienced. Of course, I don't know if there's ever been anything I've been so consumed with as I was in that moment. I knew what the tests said. I knew that God can heal, but doesn't always choose to. I knew that I just needed to lift my Dad up to Him no matter what. I knew God could choose not to heal him, but it would not be for a lack of prayer on our parts!!! I have to tell you, I know that God's Presence was so real to me because I was so desperate for Him. Psalm 34:18 says, "The LORD is near to those who have a broken heart, And saves such as have a contrite spirit." My heart was about as broken as it could get and I know that the rest of my family felt the same way. Even those friends that didn't even know my dad well seemed to share that broken heart. As someone who is in ministry I have to say that something I realized that night is that there are no amount of programs or activities we can dream up that invite the Presence of God. We most often find him when our hearts are broken...
The next day was Christmas Eve. The date on the calendar was the only reason I knew that. It certainly didn't feel like Christmas Eve. We were again called into a conference room (actually, there were so many of us we took up a waiting room) and waited again to talk with Dr.B. He pretty much told us the exact same thing he had already told us, but a little more officially. He told us the neurologist would be in that afternoon to talk with us. Finally the neurologist came and at first he was just going to talk to us in the hallway. I got excited. The nurse suggested the waiting room again. I sighed. He was going to give us the same news again. He did. Three times. I told everyone it was like a nightmare having to get the worst news of our lives 3 times. Once was quite horrific enough. The neurologist told us that my Dad was in what they called a "vegetative" state. He was brain dead. The machines were keeping his heart pumping and his lungs breathing. We knew what that meant. No chance of recovery. I'm sure you have seen a TV show or heard news shows talk about taking a loved one off of life support. When I worked for Hospice my primary job was to discuss that very topic with patients and explain how all of that works. Again, so totally different when it is your Daddy. While it was hard to accept that he was gone, it was not hard to make the decision to take him off of life support. He had worked as a nursing home administrator for over 20 years and witnessed enough cases like this that he had made his wishes known to all of us verbally many times. We discussed if we should wait until after Christmas, but decided if we were going to do it we should not make him suffer anymore.
I walked out of the room and was afraid I might fall. My legs were jello. I felt like I was moving in slow motion. It was real. It was official. My Daddy was gone.
I guess I need to go back to Wednesday of that week. We had been told Tuesday night that we should hear from the neurologist what the results of the CT scan were on Wed. I won't even pretend that I wasn't scared. I was having my fair share of denial, but I knew the fact that he was still unresponsive was not good. Wed. morning came and no news from the neurologist. I was pretty sure there was a note on the chart that said, "Patient's daughter obsessively asks for neurologist." Finally, my Mom talked to the neurologist on the phone. ON THE PHONE. My dad had been unresponsive since Saturday morning and this was Wednesday and we only got a phone call from the neurologist. Maddening. That's the only word I know to explain it. She told my Mom she wanted to wait until they did the EEG and ANOTHER CT scan before she talked to us. Good grief. I have to tell you, patience is NOT a Strickland trait.
We went home to have lunch during the break between visiting hours. Bro. Randy had reminded us that our family members could stay out at the air force base if someone could sponsor them. My sister and brother-in-law went out to help set up those accommodations and Uncle Reggie called to let us know that he had set up an appointment with a patient advocate so we could discuss some of our issues with Nurse Ratchet and the fact that we still had NO answers 5 days after my Dad being admitted to the hospital. My Mom, Uncle Jamie and I met with the lady they sent to us and I began explaining that while we had been very happy with the care my Dad had received, we were upset with Nurse Ratchet and our lack of answers. She tried to get ahold of someone else we needed to talk to and we told her we would be in Dad's room when that person was ready to meet with us. We finally talked with that lady and it was not long after that we found out Dr. B., the cardiologist, was coming to talk to us. The nurse took us to the conference room. You DO NOT, I repeat DO NOT want a dr. to take you to the conference room. Trust me.
We waited nervously. Dr. B came in and explained that the CT Scan showed some ischemia (damage or deficiency in the brain). He also explained that the neurologist was waiting to read the EEG along with CT Scan. I thought I would remember word for word what he told us, but I don't. In fact, I'm pretty sure I was not comprehending it at all. I asked him what that meant as far as how much damage was done. He gave me a sympathetic look, I started crying uncontrollably and he nodded. Too much damage. At that point, I knew how things were going to end, but I just couldn't accept it until we talked with the neurologist and heard the official report. Before we left the hospital I ran back to my Dad's room to grab my Mom's purse or something. I wish I could tell you I was filled with peace and ready to accept whatever God's Will was. I wasn't. I begged my Daddy to come back.
My cousin Katie and Aunt Trish had fixed us a great supper and I stopped by my mother-in-law's to pick up the kids and some spaghetti she had made. We went out to the base to have supper with everyone and then it was time to head back to the hospital. I had asked on Facebook that other believers pray at 8:30 that night as I was planning to have a special prayer over my Dad at that time. Well, when I stepped off of the elevator 5 of the people we had gone to church with in Panama City we're waiting. Bro.Randy and his wife Mrs.Kathy soon joined them. They joined hands with me, my Mom, Jenny, my Uncle Jamie and Aunt Kat and my cousin Marla had asked that we call her on speaker phone and let her be a part. We cried out to God. It was one of the most amazing times of prayer I've ever experienced. Of course, I don't know if there's ever been anything I've been so consumed with as I was in that moment. I knew what the tests said. I knew that God can heal, but doesn't always choose to. I knew that I just needed to lift my Dad up to Him no matter what. I knew God could choose not to heal him, but it would not be for a lack of prayer on our parts!!! I have to tell you, I know that God's Presence was so real to me because I was so desperate for Him. Psalm 34:18 says, "The LORD is near to those who have a broken heart, And saves such as have a contrite spirit." My heart was about as broken as it could get and I know that the rest of my family felt the same way. Even those friends that didn't even know my dad well seemed to share that broken heart. As someone who is in ministry I have to say that something I realized that night is that there are no amount of programs or activities we can dream up that invite the Presence of God. We most often find him when our hearts are broken...
The next day was Christmas Eve. The date on the calendar was the only reason I knew that. It certainly didn't feel like Christmas Eve. We were again called into a conference room (actually, there were so many of us we took up a waiting room) and waited again to talk with Dr.B. He pretty much told us the exact same thing he had already told us, but a little more officially. He told us the neurologist would be in that afternoon to talk with us. Finally the neurologist came and at first he was just going to talk to us in the hallway. I got excited. The nurse suggested the waiting room again. I sighed. He was going to give us the same news again. He did. Three times. I told everyone it was like a nightmare having to get the worst news of our lives 3 times. Once was quite horrific enough. The neurologist told us that my Dad was in what they called a "vegetative" state. He was brain dead. The machines were keeping his heart pumping and his lungs breathing. We knew what that meant. No chance of recovery. I'm sure you have seen a TV show or heard news shows talk about taking a loved one off of life support. When I worked for Hospice my primary job was to discuss that very topic with patients and explain how all of that works. Again, so totally different when it is your Daddy. While it was hard to accept that he was gone, it was not hard to make the decision to take him off of life support. He had worked as a nursing home administrator for over 20 years and witnessed enough cases like this that he had made his wishes known to all of us verbally many times. We discussed if we should wait until after Christmas, but decided if we were going to do it we should not make him suffer anymore.
I walked out of the room and was afraid I might fall. My legs were jello. I felt like I was moving in slow motion. It was real. It was official. My Daddy was gone.
Friday, January 15, 2010
I Still Look the Same
Despite my many good intentions, I have been a complete bum for the last week. We got home last Tuesday night and I have proceeded to be as lazy as one human being can possibly be. Fatigue washed over me like a tidal wave and I consigned myself to a life of pajamas, Diet Cokes, and the recliner. In my normal fashion I have attempted to analyze this fatigue. Is it exhaustion from the hospital and funeral home and traveling? Is it emotional fatigue? Is it because I am having trouble going to sleep at night? Is it because I have a 2 year old? Well, by Sunday afternoon when I passed out for 3 hours in the recliner in a room full of playing, noisy kids (don't worry, Josh was here) I came to the conclusion: I'm just stinkin' tired. Doesn't really matter what's causing it, I'm just tired!
So, due to this fatigue I went over a week without ever getting dressed, putting on make-up or entering the real world. Tuesday night I threw on some jeans and a jacket and made myself take the trash to the dump. I knew I needed to get out of the house. The dump seemed like a safe place that would not require hair straightening or communicating with other people. I even ventured past the dump to Sonic. Minimal human contact, but still it was progress.
Finally, I knew I had to emerge from my funk. Last night Josh said he would watch the kids so I could run to the store and have dinner with a friend. I knew this had gotten bad when I had to tell him to make me get ready to go. I mean, LaPinata with Karen is my most favoritest social outing. And I was going to the store to get a new purse, not grocery shopping. I should have really wanted to go. I finally did drag myself to the bathroom to get ready. I straightened my hair, applied my make-up and sprayed some perfume. I pulled some clothes out of my suitcase (yep, they're still there) and put on some jewelry. I looked in the mirror and...I looked the same.
I don't know what I expected. It just seems that after an event like losing your Dad, that you should look different. I don't doubt that the last few weeks have added some lines around my eyes, but when I would make myself smile, I still looked the same. As I shopped in the store and arrived at the restaurant I thought, 'These people don't know. They have no idea that my life has just completely changed in a matter of weeks.' And that is the heart of what always makes tragedy so hard.
When I lost my six year old cousin I was 17. It was my first experience with an event like that and I remember the moment it hit me that while our world was crashing in on us, life was going on for everyone else. It's not a bad thing. It's just a thing. It's just the way it works.
I enjoyed my dinner and especially the conversation. I am blessed with a best friend who knows how to listen and knows the right things to say. We were able to talk about totally unrelated things and then at any moment I could share something really painful and it was okay. And she knows that while I still look the same...I will never be the same.
So, due to this fatigue I went over a week without ever getting dressed, putting on make-up or entering the real world. Tuesday night I threw on some jeans and a jacket and made myself take the trash to the dump. I knew I needed to get out of the house. The dump seemed like a safe place that would not require hair straightening or communicating with other people. I even ventured past the dump to Sonic. Minimal human contact, but still it was progress.
Finally, I knew I had to emerge from my funk. Last night Josh said he would watch the kids so I could run to the store and have dinner with a friend. I knew this had gotten bad when I had to tell him to make me get ready to go. I mean, LaPinata with Karen is my most favoritest social outing. And I was going to the store to get a new purse, not grocery shopping. I should have really wanted to go. I finally did drag myself to the bathroom to get ready. I straightened my hair, applied my make-up and sprayed some perfume. I pulled some clothes out of my suitcase (yep, they're still there) and put on some jewelry. I looked in the mirror and...I looked the same.
I don't know what I expected. It just seems that after an event like losing your Dad, that you should look different. I don't doubt that the last few weeks have added some lines around my eyes, but when I would make myself smile, I still looked the same. As I shopped in the store and arrived at the restaurant I thought, 'These people don't know. They have no idea that my life has just completely changed in a matter of weeks.' And that is the heart of what always makes tragedy so hard.
When I lost my six year old cousin I was 17. It was my first experience with an event like that and I remember the moment it hit me that while our world was crashing in on us, life was going on for everyone else. It's not a bad thing. It's just a thing. It's just the way it works.
I enjoyed my dinner and especially the conversation. I am blessed with a best friend who knows how to listen and knows the right things to say. We were able to talk about totally unrelated things and then at any moment I could share something really painful and it was okay. And she knows that while I still look the same...I will never be the same.
Thursday, January 14, 2010
The Nightmare Before Christmas: Part 1
On December 18 I wrote a post called "At the Feet of Jesus." In it I said, "I have so much on my mind. Cleaning, decorating, cantatas, cooking, shopping, how to make a little drummer boy outfit out of a sheet." I wish that in that list of things to do I had included "Call my Daddy and tell him how much I love him and how much he means to me. Check on Daddy and make sure he is feeling okay and ask him about his medicine and how it makes him feel." I also shared, "I'm feeling a little stressed out these days. Are any of you? I've known for a while that this would be "the" week. The week of parties, recitals, and cantatas." I really had no idea what I was saying when I said that was going to be "the" week. I had no idea that the day after I wrote that post my life would be changed forever...
Saturday, December 19th was a busy day. We had our cantata at church that night and Josh's Mom and Mammy were on their way to have Christmas with us. I had been so stressed out all week trying to get stuff ready for the cantata and as Sarah and I returned from a Wal-Mart trip with the final decorations and food for the cantata I started to feel some relief. My house was finally as clean as it was gonna get and I could see the light at the end of the stressful holiday tunnel. If I could just make it through the performance that night we would finally enter the week that I had planned to do nothing but relax and have fun with the kids.
I was in the process of making a lemon pie when my plans devastatingly changed. My phone rang and Josh answered it since I was busy in the kitchen. As he handed it to me he mouthed, "It's your brother." I knew. I knew at that very second that something was wrong. I love my brother Philip and we talk on the phone when I call my parents, but he NEVER just calls me on his own. He very calmly told me that my dad had collapsed and had been taken by ambulance to the hospital and now he was on a ventilator. I was torn between being very concerned and thinking that it could really be not a big deal. I had made 2 trips in the last year and a half to be with him as he went into the hospital to have a cardioversion to get his heart out of A-fib. In fact, one time he went in on my birthday and the next time was on Josh's birthday. I teased him that if he wanted to see me so bad on special occasions that he should just call!I also knew that the ventilator could be extremely serious, or he could just be on it for a very short time.
I got off the phone and did good for about 2 seconds and then I fell apart. I called my friend Karen to ask her to pray and was crying so hard that she had to ask me several times what I was saying. I finally got it out. I wasn't sure what to do because Josh's truck hadn't been running all week and we had family coming to our house. Of course, it didn't matter what I thought logically, I was going to get to Panama City and be with my family. Josh assured me that he and the kids would be okay. Once my mind was made up about going I went into preparation overdrive. I finished 2 lemon pies and the baked beans I was supposed to take that night. I made some tea. I got all of the kid's clothes and shoes that they would need for the cantata and church the next day and laid them out. I waited for T and Mammy to get to our house and we opened presents and had our Christmas with them. Despite my ability to pull the kid's stuff together, I managed to grab a bag for myself and pack only a pair of pajamas and one change of clothes. The truth was I still had no idea what the week held in store...
Looking back I must have known how serious it was. Two of our church ladies caught me in the parking lot as I was pulling out and one told me that she had sent her husband to get our Christmas card and present because she thought I could use it on my trip. While we waited we talked and they told me about losing their dad's unexpectedly at young ages. I had moved into total shock and numbness or I might have realized that they realized how serious this was. Once I was on the road I drove for over an hour with no music. Anyone who knows me knows that I am NEVER in the car without music. My thoughts were running a mile a minute and yet I couldn't think. Does that make any sense? Of course not.
Well, in the midst of my non-thinking thinking, I missed the exit I was supposed to take and ended up taking one of the 3 routes we take to P.C. The one I ended up on just happened to be the one I knew the least. In my attempt to get to Andalusia, Al. I ended up in Opp, Al. and was pretty sure it was not where I was supposed to be. I had stopped to use the bathroom and get some Reese's Pieces and the cashier asked if I had all of my Christmas shopping done. I told her I was close but not done yet. She shared with me that she was behind this year because her mom had been sick in the hospital. I shared that I was also headed to the hospital to see my Dad and asked her mom's name so I could pray for her. I felt like God gave me that moment to show me that we weren't the only ones struggling in a time when most others were celebrating. My first thought when I realized I was lost was that Josh was at the cantata doing sound and that I needed to call my Dad...but I couldn't. I eventually found my way and drove straight to the hospital.
It was about 11:00pm by that point but my Mom had gotten special permission for me and my aunt and uncle who were driving in from Georgia to be in ICU. I made my way to the room and in case you are wondering if working in the ER or for hospice prepares you for something like that, the answer is NO!! I knew my dad was on the ventilator, but seeing him like that was incredibly hard. His eyes were also half open but he was not responding to anybody. They told me he was heavily sedated. I grabbed his hand and told him that it was a good thing they had him sedated because I had been driving around in the middle of the night by myself lost. At that point we still had no answers. We had been told that his CT scan looked normal and I was SO relieved because my greatest fear was that he had a stroke.
Something odd happened that night. When we got to my parent's house I saw his sunglasses sitting on the foyer table and I wanted to sleep with them. I know that is so weird and I didn't, but it just felt like being close to him.
We were up early the next morning for visiting hours. Still no word on what had happened or what was going on. The nurse said that they had tried to take him off of the ventilator that morning and he was still not responsive. As far as I can remember that day was pretty uneventful. Just lots of waiting.
Already, the days have jumbled together in my mind. I think that it was Monday morning when we were unfortunately greeted with a nurse my family nicknamed "Nurse Ratchett". I don't even know what that means but it was one of the nicer nicknames my family gave her. She was on duty that morning and we were of course asking our million and one questions, seeing as how we hadn't gotten a single answer about what was going on. She, like all of the other doctors and nurses started asking my Mom how long my Dad had been without oxygen at home. My poor Mama. Of course she had no idea. She didn't know how long he had been passed out when she found him and then she couldn't remember the amount of time until the first responders got there. That's one of those times when your brain has no concept of time. Do you know what Nurse Ratchett said to us? She said, "This is not TV. This is not ER. Most people who have cardiac arrest outside of the hospital do not make it." Just like that. First, I really wanted to throw her out the window. In fact, I'm sure my sister would have done it for me, but she is pregnant and cannot do any heavy lifting. Second, I wanted to assure her that we were very aware this was not TV as our very real lives had been completely turned upside down. Before any throwing through windows or speaking of our minds could happen the cardiologist came in. He told us that my Dad's enzymes were elevated indicating a heart attack and that he was convinced the medicine he had been taking for his A-fib was actually what caused cardiac arrest. I do not know how to explain how hard that was to hear. To hear that something that is supposed to be helping is what caused this was very tough. The dr. was very apologetic and seemed genuinely concerned. He did assure us that he was not concerned about my dad's heart because they could fix whatever was wrong with it. That put us back to our concerns about any brain damage that occurred during the time he was without oxygen. By this point we had learned that it could actually take 2-3 days for any damage to show on the CT scan.
The cardiologist asked Nurse Ratchett if she had scheduled the neuro consult and she said she had "forgotten" and would get right on that. The Dr. told her he wanted her to get the neurologist on the phone right then so he could talk with them. We were assured the neurologist would be coming around. She had also told us that my Dad had been combative when she tried to take him off of the vent.That was a good sign that he was aware of what was going on. Later in the day my aunt, who is a nurse, told us she had spoken with Nurse Ratchett privately and that she had told her he had no response at all when they took him off of the vent. That was obviously very bad news and I had no idea why she would have lied to us about that seeing as how she did not seem concerned with our feelings the least bit. I told her he had squeezed my hand and she was quick to point it was probably just reflexive. She tried to get him to squeeze her hand and he wouldn't do it. I kept my mouth shut instead of telling her he just didn't want to hold her hand...
The rest of that day was more waiting and praying. Bro. Randy, the pastor who married Josh and I and ordained Josh in the ministry was coming to visit 2 or 3 times a day. Poor thing, he was there at one point when my dad started coughing. I had not seen him do that and no one had explained to me what was going on. I started screaming bloody murder for the nurse. I'm pretty sure nurses in 3 states heard me. When I called Josh to tell him that I thought he needed to come he said that Bro. Randy had already suggested that. Josh and the kids and 3 of my cousins were soon on their way.
Tuesday brought yet another day of waiting. No more news. At this point my dad had been taken completely off the sedation and was still totally unresponsive. My Uncle Reggie, my dad's twin brother kept us entertained with stories from their childhood. He was also determined to wake my dad up. We all spent a lot of time talking to him, rubbing his arms and legs and tickling his feet. We got really excited when he started moving his feet because the day before he hadn't been doing that. We did, however, later get in trouble for overstimulating him. Can you imagine that?? My family being overstimulating? My sister had also requested the night before that we NOT have Nurse Ratchett again and that request was granted. I must say that all of the other nurses were wonderful. Unfortunately, we continued to pay for Nurse Ratchett's mistakes because she was unable to get ahold of the neurologist and had made no note of the order in the chart. Y'know, if we had asked for sweet tea instead of unsweet tea on his lunch tray and she messed that up that would be one thing, but an order for the neurologist was kind of a big deal. To add to our frustration we learned after a day of my dad's sugar being through the roof that the pharmacy had mixed his bag of insulin wrong. It obviously was not a huge deal because his sugar was the least of our concerns at that point, but we were pretty tired and frustrated by that point. My Uncle Jamie and Aunt Kat got into town late that night and the next day would finally bring news...just not the news we wanted.
Saturday, December 19th was a busy day. We had our cantata at church that night and Josh's Mom and Mammy were on their way to have Christmas with us. I had been so stressed out all week trying to get stuff ready for the cantata and as Sarah and I returned from a Wal-Mart trip with the final decorations and food for the cantata I started to feel some relief. My house was finally as clean as it was gonna get and I could see the light at the end of the stressful holiday tunnel. If I could just make it through the performance that night we would finally enter the week that I had planned to do nothing but relax and have fun with the kids.
I was in the process of making a lemon pie when my plans devastatingly changed. My phone rang and Josh answered it since I was busy in the kitchen. As he handed it to me he mouthed, "It's your brother." I knew. I knew at that very second that something was wrong. I love my brother Philip and we talk on the phone when I call my parents, but he NEVER just calls me on his own. He very calmly told me that my dad had collapsed and had been taken by ambulance to the hospital and now he was on a ventilator. I was torn between being very concerned and thinking that it could really be not a big deal. I had made 2 trips in the last year and a half to be with him as he went into the hospital to have a cardioversion to get his heart out of A-fib. In fact, one time he went in on my birthday and the next time was on Josh's birthday. I teased him that if he wanted to see me so bad on special occasions that he should just call!I also knew that the ventilator could be extremely serious, or he could just be on it for a very short time.
I got off the phone and did good for about 2 seconds and then I fell apart. I called my friend Karen to ask her to pray and was crying so hard that she had to ask me several times what I was saying. I finally got it out. I wasn't sure what to do because Josh's truck hadn't been running all week and we had family coming to our house. Of course, it didn't matter what I thought logically, I was going to get to Panama City and be with my family. Josh assured me that he and the kids would be okay. Once my mind was made up about going I went into preparation overdrive. I finished 2 lemon pies and the baked beans I was supposed to take that night. I made some tea. I got all of the kid's clothes and shoes that they would need for the cantata and church the next day and laid them out. I waited for T and Mammy to get to our house and we opened presents and had our Christmas with them. Despite my ability to pull the kid's stuff together, I managed to grab a bag for myself and pack only a pair of pajamas and one change of clothes. The truth was I still had no idea what the week held in store...
Looking back I must have known how serious it was. Two of our church ladies caught me in the parking lot as I was pulling out and one told me that she had sent her husband to get our Christmas card and present because she thought I could use it on my trip. While we waited we talked and they told me about losing their dad's unexpectedly at young ages. I had moved into total shock and numbness or I might have realized that they realized how serious this was. Once I was on the road I drove for over an hour with no music. Anyone who knows me knows that I am NEVER in the car without music. My thoughts were running a mile a minute and yet I couldn't think. Does that make any sense? Of course not.
Well, in the midst of my non-thinking thinking, I missed the exit I was supposed to take and ended up taking one of the 3 routes we take to P.C. The one I ended up on just happened to be the one I knew the least. In my attempt to get to Andalusia, Al. I ended up in Opp, Al. and was pretty sure it was not where I was supposed to be. I had stopped to use the bathroom and get some Reese's Pieces and the cashier asked if I had all of my Christmas shopping done. I told her I was close but not done yet. She shared with me that she was behind this year because her mom had been sick in the hospital. I shared that I was also headed to the hospital to see my Dad and asked her mom's name so I could pray for her. I felt like God gave me that moment to show me that we weren't the only ones struggling in a time when most others were celebrating. My first thought when I realized I was lost was that Josh was at the cantata doing sound and that I needed to call my Dad...but I couldn't. I eventually found my way and drove straight to the hospital.
It was about 11:00pm by that point but my Mom had gotten special permission for me and my aunt and uncle who were driving in from Georgia to be in ICU. I made my way to the room and in case you are wondering if working in the ER or for hospice prepares you for something like that, the answer is NO!! I knew my dad was on the ventilator, but seeing him like that was incredibly hard. His eyes were also half open but he was not responding to anybody. They told me he was heavily sedated. I grabbed his hand and told him that it was a good thing they had him sedated because I had been driving around in the middle of the night by myself lost. At that point we still had no answers. We had been told that his CT scan looked normal and I was SO relieved because my greatest fear was that he had a stroke.
Something odd happened that night. When we got to my parent's house I saw his sunglasses sitting on the foyer table and I wanted to sleep with them. I know that is so weird and I didn't, but it just felt like being close to him.
We were up early the next morning for visiting hours. Still no word on what had happened or what was going on. The nurse said that they had tried to take him off of the ventilator that morning and he was still not responsive. As far as I can remember that day was pretty uneventful. Just lots of waiting.
Already, the days have jumbled together in my mind. I think that it was Monday morning when we were unfortunately greeted with a nurse my family nicknamed "Nurse Ratchett". I don't even know what that means but it was one of the nicer nicknames my family gave her. She was on duty that morning and we were of course asking our million and one questions, seeing as how we hadn't gotten a single answer about what was going on. She, like all of the other doctors and nurses started asking my Mom how long my Dad had been without oxygen at home. My poor Mama. Of course she had no idea. She didn't know how long he had been passed out when she found him and then she couldn't remember the amount of time until the first responders got there. That's one of those times when your brain has no concept of time. Do you know what Nurse Ratchett said to us? She said, "This is not TV. This is not ER. Most people who have cardiac arrest outside of the hospital do not make it." Just like that. First, I really wanted to throw her out the window. In fact, I'm sure my sister would have done it for me, but she is pregnant and cannot do any heavy lifting. Second, I wanted to assure her that we were very aware this was not TV as our very real lives had been completely turned upside down. Before any throwing through windows or speaking of our minds could happen the cardiologist came in. He told us that my Dad's enzymes were elevated indicating a heart attack and that he was convinced the medicine he had been taking for his A-fib was actually what caused cardiac arrest. I do not know how to explain how hard that was to hear. To hear that something that is supposed to be helping is what caused this was very tough. The dr. was very apologetic and seemed genuinely concerned. He did assure us that he was not concerned about my dad's heart because they could fix whatever was wrong with it. That put us back to our concerns about any brain damage that occurred during the time he was without oxygen. By this point we had learned that it could actually take 2-3 days for any damage to show on the CT scan.
The cardiologist asked Nurse Ratchett if she had scheduled the neuro consult and she said she had "forgotten" and would get right on that. The Dr. told her he wanted her to get the neurologist on the phone right then so he could talk with them. We were assured the neurologist would be coming around. She had also told us that my Dad had been combative when she tried to take him off of the vent.That was a good sign that he was aware of what was going on. Later in the day my aunt, who is a nurse, told us she had spoken with Nurse Ratchett privately and that she had told her he had no response at all when they took him off of the vent. That was obviously very bad news and I had no idea why she would have lied to us about that seeing as how she did not seem concerned with our feelings the least bit. I told her he had squeezed my hand and she was quick to point it was probably just reflexive. She tried to get him to squeeze her hand and he wouldn't do it. I kept my mouth shut instead of telling her he just didn't want to hold her hand...
The rest of that day was more waiting and praying. Bro. Randy, the pastor who married Josh and I and ordained Josh in the ministry was coming to visit 2 or 3 times a day. Poor thing, he was there at one point when my dad started coughing. I had not seen him do that and no one had explained to me what was going on. I started screaming bloody murder for the nurse. I'm pretty sure nurses in 3 states heard me. When I called Josh to tell him that I thought he needed to come he said that Bro. Randy had already suggested that. Josh and the kids and 3 of my cousins were soon on their way.
Tuesday brought yet another day of waiting. No more news. At this point my dad had been taken completely off the sedation and was still totally unresponsive. My Uncle Reggie, my dad's twin brother kept us entertained with stories from their childhood. He was also determined to wake my dad up. We all spent a lot of time talking to him, rubbing his arms and legs and tickling his feet. We got really excited when he started moving his feet because the day before he hadn't been doing that. We did, however, later get in trouble for overstimulating him. Can you imagine that?? My family being overstimulating? My sister had also requested the night before that we NOT have Nurse Ratchett again and that request was granted. I must say that all of the other nurses were wonderful. Unfortunately, we continued to pay for Nurse Ratchett's mistakes because she was unable to get ahold of the neurologist and had made no note of the order in the chart. Y'know, if we had asked for sweet tea instead of unsweet tea on his lunch tray and she messed that up that would be one thing, but an order for the neurologist was kind of a big deal. To add to our frustration we learned after a day of my dad's sugar being through the roof that the pharmacy had mixed his bag of insulin wrong. It obviously was not a huge deal because his sugar was the least of our concerns at that point, but we were pretty tired and frustrated by that point. My Uncle Jamie and Aunt Kat got into town late that night and the next day would finally bring news...just not the news we wanted.
Wednesday, January 13, 2010
The Facts of Life
For some totally odd and unknown reason I have had the lyrics from the theme song of the 80's sitcom "Facts of Life" playing in my head. You know what I'm talking about? "You take the good, you take the bad, you take 'em all and there you have the facts of life." Weird. I know. As I have contemplated these very deep words I decided I wanted to share some things with you. Yesterday I sat down and wrote out the story of the first few days in the hospital with my Dad. It was hard and yet therapeutic. I didn't feel ready to publish it though. I may never. It may be just for me. But today I decided that even if I never share the horrific details of that week with you, I need to share the many ways that we were blessed and experienced God's presence.
The first incredible blessing we experienced was the presence of my Dad's brothers and their families. My Dad had a twin, my Uncle Reggie, and he and his wife got to the hospital at the same time I did. He asked the hard questions we were too emotional to even think of and stepped in and provided the guidance and leadership for me, my Mom, and my brother and sister that my Dad would have normally provided. He kept us entertained with stories from their childhood. He called in the troops, his 3 kids, Katie, Clint and Drew, to provide support. And man, did they provide support. Drew is a medic and he answered MANY medical questions we had. He and Clint also provided a listening ear and tons of support for my brother. Katie and my Aunt Trish cooked a wonderful supper for us one night and baby-sat when needed, including spending Christmas Eve with mine and my sister's babies. Yes, Christmas Eve. She spent Christmas Eve with my kids and not her own. It still blows my mind the sacrifices they made with their own families to be their for us. My mother in law had also fixed us a big pot of spaghetti and a plate of cookies. She made cookies and let the kids decorate them. She also made cookies for the kids to leave for Santa, something I obviously wasn't thinking about that night. She also baby-sat my kids and my nephew Luke. He is 19 months and you should see he and Kate together. They are quite a pair. :) As if that is not enough to nominate her for sainthood she also took my 3 kids to the Christmas Eve service at church. If you've read my blogs about my church experiences with them, you know what I am talking about.
We actually made the extremely difficult decision to take my Dad off of life support on Christmas Eve. In addition to my Uncle Reggie, Aunt Trish and my cousins, my Dad's older brother Uncle Jamie and his wife Aunt Kat had driven in from Texas. They had bought us lunch and provided so much support for us. Especially me. Uncle Jamie's prayers and hugs meant a lot to me. Not only was our family there that night, but Bro. Randy, the pastor that married Josh and myself and ordained Josh in the ministry, and his wife Mrs. Kathy were also there until probably 11:00 that night on Christmas Eve. My brother's friend was also there with his girlfriend and mom. There are no words to describe the pain of that night, and I feel like there are equally no words to describe my thankfulness for the people who "mourned while we mourned". Josh always gives me a hard time about never deleting my e-mails, but now I am so thankful I have so many still from my Dad. Just a couple of days ago I read one from a time when we were concerned about a family member who was going through a difficult time. He had sent me an e-mail and his exact words were "he is surrounded by family." Oh, how I pray that my Daddy knows how surrounded by family he was. Not just physically, but in spirit as well. I had Josh's blackberry and I was constantly getting messages on Facebook that were so encouraging. I know a lot of times I feel like my words are empty when I tell people I am thinking about them or praying for them. Believe me, there were no empty words. Those sweet words were feeding my soul as I watched my Daddy die. While the whole night was hard, there was a particularly rough time when we had to make, yet another very hard decision. Shortly after we got the news about that I got this message from my Dad's cousin, Al : "Wish I knew the magic words Emily....only one that does is up above, and you know how to contact HIM....prayers are all we can offer right now Dear, and they are out pouring." I don't know if it was the timing or the words. Probably both. I was at a point where I literally needed someone to remind me that I did know how to pray. I just can't explain it, but I truly felt like those people who were praying were there with us.
Earlier that night, soon after my Dad was taken off of life support, my Aunt Trish came back to the room to share something with us. She had been getting some coffee in the waiting room and an older man approached her and told her that he had been watching our family all night. He said that he had lost a twin brother (remember, this is the wife of my dad's twin brother but she hadn't told him that) and that he had also lost someone on Christmas before. They talked for a minute and then Trish asked him who he was there for assuming he had a loved one in ICU. He answered, "Oh, I'm just here for y'all." We never did figure out who we was and we never saw him again.
Another overwhelming moment for me was Wednesday night. We had still not gotten the official news from the neurologist, but the cardiologist had given us the warning that it did not look good. I posted something on Facebook asking other believers to say a special prayer at 8:30 that night. When I got to the hospital that night I had seven friends from our home church in Panama City waiting. They did more than say a special prayer at home. They joined us in the hospital. They held hands with my family (and spiritual hands with my cousin Marla who was on speakerphone from Texas) and we had prayer over my Daddy. I've never experienced anything like it. When I saw them waiting in the waiting room it was like Jesus personally put his arms around me and told me he cared. Although our prayers for physical healing were not answered, I have never felt the presence of God so strong. We had church. In that moment I knew that that was the compassion and love Jesus calls for. Thank you Bro. Randy, Mrs. Kathy, Mr. and Mrs. P, Rob, Jessica, and Brady. I call you by name because while I may have been an emotional wreck the night you were there, I did not, nor will I ever forget that you were there.
My friend and blogging buddy, Philip, showed up a little later that night and spent a good deal of time with us. He had already been by earlier in the week and gotten on his knees in the waiting room to have prayer with me, my Mom, and Jenny and Philip. We went to high school together but never really talked until we met up in the blogging world. I had learned a few months back that he lost his mother not very long ago to breast cancer. I had "accidentally" ended up on a blog post that was a year earlier than what I thought I was reading. Philip had already been faithfully praying for my Dad and visiting him in the hospital during his previous health problems. I have no doubt that God ordained our friendship as I now have someone who understands completely the grief I am feeling. On a funny note, Philip is also a minister at a church in Panama City and my Uncle Reggie teased me at one point saying that I am a preacher magnet. What can I say? I need more spiritual guidance than most. :)
Wow, who knew there were so many good things to write about from that time? I could keep going. Little stuff like the girl at Chick-Fil-A who just gave us a meal when me and Philip forgot to order one. We didn't even explain that we had just made the decision to take my Dad off of life support and that we were picking up food to try and feed my Mom who was too grief stricken to eat. She didn't know. She could have huffed and puffed about us holding up the line and then charged us. But she didn't. She smiled sweetly and told us not to worry about it. Little stuff like that matters in times like those. There was also the day after Christmas when our dear friends, Mrs. Cathy, Kim and Jonathan came to visit. They made a 3 hour trip just to check on us.That is real friendship. And bless their hearts, I hope we weren't totally rude, I don't know if any of us were even coherent that day, but we appreciated them coming even so!
I can't forget to sing the praises of my hubby or my brother in law, Dillon, who I consider just my brother. I had not spent much time with Dillon as he is in the military and he and my sister moved off to Alaska shortly after they got married. They've recently moved closer (another blessing) and I really enjoyed spending time with him. Those boys cooked Christmas lunch for us, they wrapped us in their arms during the most difficult hours of our lives and they held down the fort with 4 kids under the age of 7 and 2 dogs. My Daddy just glowed with pride in the two of them while he was here and I know that he couldn't be prouder of the strength, compassion and love they showed us. Dillon even helped me shop for shoes for the funeral. Somehow we ended up in the shoe department alone and I asked if he thought the shoes I was looking at looked like grandma shoes. He assured me they didn't look like any his grandmother had ever worn. :) Dillon is 5 days older than me, so I feel like I have finally gotten the "older" brother I always wanted.
I know now that I am going to forget somebody and something that happened. Maybe that is good. Maybe it will be good for me to keep remembering more things to be thankful for. I can't end this without telling you what arrived in the mail the first day I was home after the funeral and after our return trip to P.C. I got an envelope and inside was this picture that my friend (and another blogging buddy!) Amber had printed out of one of my Facebook albums and framed in a frame that says Daddy & me. Can you believe that? Is that not the most sweet, thoughtful thing you have ever heard of??
This last week has been really hard for me. So much harder than I anticipated. I have been so tempted to take up residence in self-pityville. It's a minute to minute struggle to be honest with you. And I've decided that's okay. It's just going to take time. And my Daddy deserves for me to grieve over him. He was a HUGE part of my life. But I want to thank all of you who have shown so much love to me and my family. If I have to take the bad, it sure helps to have so much good with it. Thank you.
The first incredible blessing we experienced was the presence of my Dad's brothers and their families. My Dad had a twin, my Uncle Reggie, and he and his wife got to the hospital at the same time I did. He asked the hard questions we were too emotional to even think of and stepped in and provided the guidance and leadership for me, my Mom, and my brother and sister that my Dad would have normally provided. He kept us entertained with stories from their childhood. He called in the troops, his 3 kids, Katie, Clint and Drew, to provide support. And man, did they provide support. Drew is a medic and he answered MANY medical questions we had. He and Clint also provided a listening ear and tons of support for my brother. Katie and my Aunt Trish cooked a wonderful supper for us one night and baby-sat when needed, including spending Christmas Eve with mine and my sister's babies. Yes, Christmas Eve. She spent Christmas Eve with my kids and not her own. It still blows my mind the sacrifices they made with their own families to be their for us. My mother in law had also fixed us a big pot of spaghetti and a plate of cookies. She made cookies and let the kids decorate them. She also made cookies for the kids to leave for Santa, something I obviously wasn't thinking about that night. She also baby-sat my kids and my nephew Luke. He is 19 months and you should see he and Kate together. They are quite a pair. :) As if that is not enough to nominate her for sainthood she also took my 3 kids to the Christmas Eve service at church. If you've read my blogs about my church experiences with them, you know what I am talking about.
We actually made the extremely difficult decision to take my Dad off of life support on Christmas Eve. In addition to my Uncle Reggie, Aunt Trish and my cousins, my Dad's older brother Uncle Jamie and his wife Aunt Kat had driven in from Texas. They had bought us lunch and provided so much support for us. Especially me. Uncle Jamie's prayers and hugs meant a lot to me. Not only was our family there that night, but Bro. Randy, the pastor that married Josh and myself and ordained Josh in the ministry, and his wife Mrs. Kathy were also there until probably 11:00 that night on Christmas Eve. My brother's friend was also there with his girlfriend and mom. There are no words to describe the pain of that night, and I feel like there are equally no words to describe my thankfulness for the people who "mourned while we mourned". Josh always gives me a hard time about never deleting my e-mails, but now I am so thankful I have so many still from my Dad. Just a couple of days ago I read one from a time when we were concerned about a family member who was going through a difficult time. He had sent me an e-mail and his exact words were "he is surrounded by family." Oh, how I pray that my Daddy knows how surrounded by family he was. Not just physically, but in spirit as well. I had Josh's blackberry and I was constantly getting messages on Facebook that were so encouraging. I know a lot of times I feel like my words are empty when I tell people I am thinking about them or praying for them. Believe me, there were no empty words. Those sweet words were feeding my soul as I watched my Daddy die. While the whole night was hard, there was a particularly rough time when we had to make, yet another very hard decision. Shortly after we got the news about that I got this message from my Dad's cousin, Al : "Wish I knew the magic words Emily....only one that does is up above, and you know how to contact HIM....prayers are all we can offer right now Dear, and they are out pouring." I don't know if it was the timing or the words. Probably both. I was at a point where I literally needed someone to remind me that I did know how to pray. I just can't explain it, but I truly felt like those people who were praying were there with us.
Earlier that night, soon after my Dad was taken off of life support, my Aunt Trish came back to the room to share something with us. She had been getting some coffee in the waiting room and an older man approached her and told her that he had been watching our family all night. He said that he had lost a twin brother (remember, this is the wife of my dad's twin brother but she hadn't told him that) and that he had also lost someone on Christmas before. They talked for a minute and then Trish asked him who he was there for assuming he had a loved one in ICU. He answered, "Oh, I'm just here for y'all." We never did figure out who we was and we never saw him again.
Another overwhelming moment for me was Wednesday night. We had still not gotten the official news from the neurologist, but the cardiologist had given us the warning that it did not look good. I posted something on Facebook asking other believers to say a special prayer at 8:30 that night. When I got to the hospital that night I had seven friends from our home church in Panama City waiting. They did more than say a special prayer at home. They joined us in the hospital. They held hands with my family (and spiritual hands with my cousin Marla who was on speakerphone from Texas) and we had prayer over my Daddy. I've never experienced anything like it. When I saw them waiting in the waiting room it was like Jesus personally put his arms around me and told me he cared. Although our prayers for physical healing were not answered, I have never felt the presence of God so strong. We had church. In that moment I knew that that was the compassion and love Jesus calls for. Thank you Bro. Randy, Mrs. Kathy, Mr. and Mrs. P, Rob, Jessica, and Brady. I call you by name because while I may have been an emotional wreck the night you were there, I did not, nor will I ever forget that you were there.
My friend and blogging buddy, Philip, showed up a little later that night and spent a good deal of time with us. He had already been by earlier in the week and gotten on his knees in the waiting room to have prayer with me, my Mom, and Jenny and Philip. We went to high school together but never really talked until we met up in the blogging world. I had learned a few months back that he lost his mother not very long ago to breast cancer. I had "accidentally" ended up on a blog post that was a year earlier than what I thought I was reading. Philip had already been faithfully praying for my Dad and visiting him in the hospital during his previous health problems. I have no doubt that God ordained our friendship as I now have someone who understands completely the grief I am feeling. On a funny note, Philip is also a minister at a church in Panama City and my Uncle Reggie teased me at one point saying that I am a preacher magnet. What can I say? I need more spiritual guidance than most. :)
Wow, who knew there were so many good things to write about from that time? I could keep going. Little stuff like the girl at Chick-Fil-A who just gave us a meal when me and Philip forgot to order one. We didn't even explain that we had just made the decision to take my Dad off of life support and that we were picking up food to try and feed my Mom who was too grief stricken to eat. She didn't know. She could have huffed and puffed about us holding up the line and then charged us. But she didn't. She smiled sweetly and told us not to worry about it. Little stuff like that matters in times like those. There was also the day after Christmas when our dear friends, Mrs. Cathy, Kim and Jonathan came to visit. They made a 3 hour trip just to check on us.That is real friendship. And bless their hearts, I hope we weren't totally rude, I don't know if any of us were even coherent that day, but we appreciated them coming even so!
I can't forget to sing the praises of my hubby or my brother in law, Dillon, who I consider just my brother. I had not spent much time with Dillon as he is in the military and he and my sister moved off to Alaska shortly after they got married. They've recently moved closer (another blessing) and I really enjoyed spending time with him. Those boys cooked Christmas lunch for us, they wrapped us in their arms during the most difficult hours of our lives and they held down the fort with 4 kids under the age of 7 and 2 dogs. My Daddy just glowed with pride in the two of them while he was here and I know that he couldn't be prouder of the strength, compassion and love they showed us. Dillon even helped me shop for shoes for the funeral. Somehow we ended up in the shoe department alone and I asked if he thought the shoes I was looking at looked like grandma shoes. He assured me they didn't look like any his grandmother had ever worn. :) Dillon is 5 days older than me, so I feel like I have finally gotten the "older" brother I always wanted.
I know now that I am going to forget somebody and something that happened. Maybe that is good. Maybe it will be good for me to keep remembering more things to be thankful for. I can't end this without telling you what arrived in the mail the first day I was home after the funeral and after our return trip to P.C. I got an envelope and inside was this picture that my friend (and another blogging buddy!) Amber had printed out of one of my Facebook albums and framed in a frame that says Daddy & me. Can you believe that? Is that not the most sweet, thoughtful thing you have ever heard of??
This last week has been really hard for me. So much harder than I anticipated. I have been so tempted to take up residence in self-pityville. It's a minute to minute struggle to be honest with you. And I've decided that's okay. It's just going to take time. And my Daddy deserves for me to grieve over him. He was a HUGE part of my life. But I want to thank all of you who have shown so much love to me and my family. If I have to take the bad, it sure helps to have so much good with it. Thank you.
Thursday, January 7, 2010
I Can't Want To
When Sarah was a toddler she developed a phrase that brought laughter into my life during a time of being equally furious. During one of her intense fit throwing phases she coined the phrase "I CAN'T WANT TO!!!!!!!" Apparently I asked something of her that she had no desire to fulfill and that resulted in a full out rolling on the floor kicking and screaming fit. I was reminded of this special little phase when Eli recently repeated those very same words to me. "I CAN'T WANT TO!!!!"
As I mentioned in my last blog, I buried my dad last Wednesday. We came home for Josh to work a day and that was New Year's Eve. I really thought I was doing pretty good. I did laundry, repacked suitcases, went and vacuumed out the Jeep. But, Josh called to let me know that one of our friends had invited us to his house for New Year's Eve, and I became almost paralyzed. I couldn't do it. I couldn't get dressed and put on make-up. I couldn't handle the thought of trying to make polite conversation. I went back and forth all day about what to do. I would make up my mind that the last thing my Dad would want was for me to spend the day sitting around crying. Then, I would sit around and cry.
The next day we headed back to Panama City and I was able to spend some time with my Mom and brother, go to church, have lunch with a friend and celebrate T's (Josh's Mom) birthday. Now, I'm back home. Today is the first time I've been home 2 days in a row since he died. I've taken down Christmas decorations, (and let me tell you, our first real live Christmas tree went two weeks without being watered. I think we may have pieces of that tree with us, and by with us I mean in the carpet, for months to come!!), swept the floors, did some laundry and made some homemade potato soup. You may be thinking that you could care less about those things, but I share them because when I thought about doing them I thought 'I can't want to!' When I thought about writing again I thought 'I can't want to!'
I have always been good at staying strong for other people, but my own personal coping mechanism has always been to withdraw. I prefer to sit in a corner and stare at the wall. The times when I need to talk the most I've been known to not feel like talking. I tend to lose all motivation. It was the trademark of my depression. When life starts hurting too much it is easier to just zone out and not think about things like cooking, cleaning or talking. Those things remind you of life.
So, I'm asking for your help. It is very easy in my life right now to withdraw. I spend 95% of my life in a house in the middle of nowhere with 3 kids. It is easy to avoid human contact and zone out. But I can't. I know I can't. At this time in my life I am thankful for my previous depression because if nothing else I came out of it determined to NEVER go there again. I just can't do it. I can't check out. I have a husband, 3 kids, a dog, a Mom, a brother, a sister and her family. It wouldn't be fair to them. I serve a God who brought me out of that pit, and I know it was for a reason. I'm pretty sure it wasn't to spend my days in my pj's living off of pistachios and Diet Coke.
While every part of my human self is inwardly throwing a kicking and screaming fit saying "I CAN'T WANT TO!!", I know that it doesn't matter what I WANT. It matters that life is still going on and I have to choose to be a part of it. I can choose to be thankful for the many blessings I see through this time of grief. I can choose to remember the good times with my Daddy. I can choose to hold onto those I love a little tighter and make sure I make the most of the days I have with them. I can choose to find the humor in life and I promise, I will again!
I am so thankful for the outpouring of love and caring that has been shown to me and my family. It has been overwhelming. Not only were so many of our family and friends faithful to be there for us and take care of us, but you did it during the holidays when I know you had a million other things to do and places to be. It was not lost on this emotional, basket case of a girl the sacrifices you made to be with us. It was not lost on my needy heart the prayers and words of encouragement and support that were sent our way. I am going to try and write about my experience the week we spent in the hospital with my Daddy, but if I am never up to it, I want all of you who sent me comments and messages on Facebook to know that it was just like you were at the hospital with me putting your arms around me. Jesus tells us that we are blessed when we mourn because we will be comforted.(Matthew 5:4) I had never personally experienced that verse until this time. All of a sudden I got it. I understood what it meant to be comforted.
You do not have to worry that I will forget the kindness and love that was shown. I can't want to. :)
As I mentioned in my last blog, I buried my dad last Wednesday. We came home for Josh to work a day and that was New Year's Eve. I really thought I was doing pretty good. I did laundry, repacked suitcases, went and vacuumed out the Jeep. But, Josh called to let me know that one of our friends had invited us to his house for New Year's Eve, and I became almost paralyzed. I couldn't do it. I couldn't get dressed and put on make-up. I couldn't handle the thought of trying to make polite conversation. I went back and forth all day about what to do. I would make up my mind that the last thing my Dad would want was for me to spend the day sitting around crying. Then, I would sit around and cry.
The next day we headed back to Panama City and I was able to spend some time with my Mom and brother, go to church, have lunch with a friend and celebrate T's (Josh's Mom) birthday. Now, I'm back home. Today is the first time I've been home 2 days in a row since he died. I've taken down Christmas decorations, (and let me tell you, our first real live Christmas tree went two weeks without being watered. I think we may have pieces of that tree with us, and by with us I mean in the carpet, for months to come!!), swept the floors, did some laundry and made some homemade potato soup. You may be thinking that you could care less about those things, but I share them because when I thought about doing them I thought 'I can't want to!' When I thought about writing again I thought 'I can't want to!'
I have always been good at staying strong for other people, but my own personal coping mechanism has always been to withdraw. I prefer to sit in a corner and stare at the wall. The times when I need to talk the most I've been known to not feel like talking. I tend to lose all motivation. It was the trademark of my depression. When life starts hurting too much it is easier to just zone out and not think about things like cooking, cleaning or talking. Those things remind you of life.
So, I'm asking for your help. It is very easy in my life right now to withdraw. I spend 95% of my life in a house in the middle of nowhere with 3 kids. It is easy to avoid human contact and zone out. But I can't. I know I can't. At this time in my life I am thankful for my previous depression because if nothing else I came out of it determined to NEVER go there again. I just can't do it. I can't check out. I have a husband, 3 kids, a dog, a Mom, a brother, a sister and her family. It wouldn't be fair to them. I serve a God who brought me out of that pit, and I know it was for a reason. I'm pretty sure it wasn't to spend my days in my pj's living off of pistachios and Diet Coke.
While every part of my human self is inwardly throwing a kicking and screaming fit saying "I CAN'T WANT TO!!", I know that it doesn't matter what I WANT. It matters that life is still going on and I have to choose to be a part of it. I can choose to be thankful for the many blessings I see through this time of grief. I can choose to remember the good times with my Daddy. I can choose to hold onto those I love a little tighter and make sure I make the most of the days I have with them. I can choose to find the humor in life and I promise, I will again!
I am so thankful for the outpouring of love and caring that has been shown to me and my family. It has been overwhelming. Not only were so many of our family and friends faithful to be there for us and take care of us, but you did it during the holidays when I know you had a million other things to do and places to be. It was not lost on this emotional, basket case of a girl the sacrifices you made to be with us. It was not lost on my needy heart the prayers and words of encouragement and support that were sent our way. I am going to try and write about my experience the week we spent in the hospital with my Daddy, but if I am never up to it, I want all of you who sent me comments and messages on Facebook to know that it was just like you were at the hospital with me putting your arms around me. Jesus tells us that we are blessed when we mourn because we will be comforted.(Matthew 5:4) I had never personally experienced that verse until this time. All of a sudden I got it. I understood what it meant to be comforted.
You do not have to worry that I will forget the kindness and love that was shown. I can't want to. :)
Thursday, December 31, 2009
A New Thing
Last January I wrote a blog and talked about a verse we had claimed for the year. Here is what I wrote: "Josh has claimed Isaiah 43 for our church this year and I am claiming it for myself. Isaiah 43:18 says, "Do not remember the former things, Nor consider the things of old. Behold, I will do a new thing." I love that! Don't you? In this chapter God goes on and on about the things He will do for His people, the things only He can do. So, I've decided this year I want to forget the former things and get ready for the new! The things only God can do. I think losing weight and keeping my house organized seem like the most impossible tasks known to mankind. But God said, "I will even make a road in the wilderness and rivers in the desert." Isaiah 43:19 So, I've decided not only can I keep my resolutions with God's help, I'm going to expect more. Weight loss and clean floors will pale in comparison with the changes that I'm expecting God to make in my heart and mind. He can do that!"
I had NO idea the new things in store for 2009. My Mamaw lost her house (the house she had lived in for over 40 years, the house I grew up visiting every summer and for holidays) and everything she owned to a fire. Josh lost his hospice job in April and we spent 6 months learning to live on half our income. And then, yesterday, I buried my Daddy. He passed away on Christmas day very unexpectedly. As I read that post from last year I couldn't help but tell God, "This was not what I thought you meant by new things! These were not the new things I was anticipating!" I'm not gonna lie. I would like to say GOOD RIDDANCE to 2009. See ya! Good-bye! Adios! Don't let the door hit you on the butt on the way out!!! That's how I feel right now. My grief is so fresh and so raw that I completely lack the ability to even pretend I'm okay. One moment I experience a peace I have never known and the next my heart hurts so bad I feel like I could just crawl in a ditch and stay there forever.
I wish I could say that because I'm a believer, or even better, the preacher's wife, that I am immune to pain and suffering. That I have been a rock of strength and faith over the last few weeks (and really, the last year)handling the trouble that has come our way with grace and dignity. Maybe I have at times. But there have also been many tears, fits and times when I've told God, "I don't get it." I still don't get a lot of things. There are certain situations and experiences that have happened over the last year that I can look back on and see a purpose. And there are still a lot of unknowns.
As much as I wish I could pretend much of 2009 never happened, I know that to erase this last year from existence would also mean erasing so many of the precious memories it holds. My sister in law's wedding. My nephew's first birthday party. T-ball season. Sarah's first dance recital. Going with my mom and dad to get ice cream for our birthdays. Making Eli's rocket cake. Taking the kids to the battleship in Mobile. Mine and Josh's honeymoon in the mountains. In addition to the memories, I know the most important part of 2009 are the lessons learned and the changes in my heart. This was one of those years that changes you. For better or worse it changes you. How I pray that it has changed me for the better. I asked God to do new things in my heart, I just didn't know how painful some of those changes would be.
I didn't know that Josh would have to lose his job for me to learn a greater dependence on His provision. I didn't know that my Mamaw would have to lose her house for Him to teach me that there is NOTHING on this earth that is secure or will always be there. I didn't know that I would have to experience so much heartache for Him to teach me how to minister to others through the way that they ministered to me. I didn't know I would have to lose my Daddy to appreciate my family and be bonded with them in a way I never knew was possible.
I want to wish you a Happy 2010. I want to hope for you happiness, love and health. But, I have come to learn that those things mean nothing when we don't really appreciate them. I also know it is unrealistic to expect a year free of trouble. We are promised troubles on this earth. So, it is my prayer that whatever you face this year, good and bad, you will allow God to use it to do a new thing in your heart. Even if it hurts...
I had NO idea the new things in store for 2009. My Mamaw lost her house (the house she had lived in for over 40 years, the house I grew up visiting every summer and for holidays) and everything she owned to a fire. Josh lost his hospice job in April and we spent 6 months learning to live on half our income. And then, yesterday, I buried my Daddy. He passed away on Christmas day very unexpectedly. As I read that post from last year I couldn't help but tell God, "This was not what I thought you meant by new things! These were not the new things I was anticipating!" I'm not gonna lie. I would like to say GOOD RIDDANCE to 2009. See ya! Good-bye! Adios! Don't let the door hit you on the butt on the way out!!! That's how I feel right now. My grief is so fresh and so raw that I completely lack the ability to even pretend I'm okay. One moment I experience a peace I have never known and the next my heart hurts so bad I feel like I could just crawl in a ditch and stay there forever.
I wish I could say that because I'm a believer, or even better, the preacher's wife, that I am immune to pain and suffering. That I have been a rock of strength and faith over the last few weeks (and really, the last year)handling the trouble that has come our way with grace and dignity. Maybe I have at times. But there have also been many tears, fits and times when I've told God, "I don't get it." I still don't get a lot of things. There are certain situations and experiences that have happened over the last year that I can look back on and see a purpose. And there are still a lot of unknowns.
As much as I wish I could pretend much of 2009 never happened, I know that to erase this last year from existence would also mean erasing so many of the precious memories it holds. My sister in law's wedding. My nephew's first birthday party. T-ball season. Sarah's first dance recital. Going with my mom and dad to get ice cream for our birthdays. Making Eli's rocket cake. Taking the kids to the battleship in Mobile. Mine and Josh's honeymoon in the mountains. In addition to the memories, I know the most important part of 2009 are the lessons learned and the changes in my heart. This was one of those years that changes you. For better or worse it changes you. How I pray that it has changed me for the better. I asked God to do new things in my heart, I just didn't know how painful some of those changes would be.
I didn't know that Josh would have to lose his job for me to learn a greater dependence on His provision. I didn't know that my Mamaw would have to lose her house for Him to teach me that there is NOTHING on this earth that is secure or will always be there. I didn't know that I would have to experience so much heartache for Him to teach me how to minister to others through the way that they ministered to me. I didn't know I would have to lose my Daddy to appreciate my family and be bonded with them in a way I never knew was possible.
I want to wish you a Happy 2010. I want to hope for you happiness, love and health. But, I have come to learn that those things mean nothing when we don't really appreciate them. I also know it is unrealistic to expect a year free of trouble. We are promised troubles on this earth. So, it is my prayer that whatever you face this year, good and bad, you will allow God to use it to do a new thing in your heart. Even if it hurts...
Tuesday, December 29, 2009
My Daddy
My Daddy was a gentle giant.
People always commented on what a big guy he was. I was always quick to point out that he was just “Daddy sized”.
The perfect size for a good bear hug. The perfect size to hold me up to see things little girls were too small to see. The perfect size to open jars. The perfect size to make me feel safe.
My Daddy was loyal. He had been a Saints fan since 1967. Need I say more? :)
My Daddy spent his free time holding onto the back of bikes, making runs to the skating rink and shopping for Ninja Turtles.
My Daddy coached basketball when I was six. He didn’t know anything about basketball, but I wanted to play and they needed a coach. So he coached basketball.
My Daddy sat through SIXTEEN dance recitals. Not because he was a lover of ballet, but because it was important to me.
My Daddy took me to work with him at his nursing home every single day the summer I was eleven. I learned to love “the least of these” and learned that my Daddy was adored by his staff. I was so proud to be “Mr. Strickland’s daughter”.
My Daddy chauffeured hormonal teenage girls to the mall in a minivan and tried to help us understand boys.
My Daddy listened to the same music I did. He was cool. :)
My Daddy taught me to keep my head on a swivel, wear my seatbelt, lock the doors and not pick up hitchhikers.
My Daddy was a great listener. He entertained many deep discussions with a daughter who thinks too much.
My Daddy told my sister and me that we could wear anything and look good. We make clothes look pretty, he said.
My Daddy encouraged me to follow my dreams and spread my wings, but made sure I knew I could always come back home.
My brother once said that we could pump gas and my Daddy would be proud of that. It’s true. He was proud of anything we did, but mostly just that we existed. Not everyone has someone like that in their lives.
My Daddy was funny. Hilarious. Hysterical. He could make me laugh until I cried, and usually about something that nobody else would understand.
My Daddy was a provider. Even after I got married I would often get envelopes marked “hamburger money”.
My Daddy could not stand to see anyone suffer. He was caring and compassionate.
I will never forget my husband coming to report back to me after announcing to a waiting room full of family and friends that our first baby had arrived. He told me everyone was anxious to see her. But he also told me that the first thing my Daddy asked was how I was. In a time when all of the attention shifted to the new baby, my Daddy wanted to make sure I was okay.
A few months later when I had to have a procedure done, my Daddy was the first one I saw when I woke up.
My Daddy was there through the good and the bad.
My Daddy was the best Daddy.
I am still proud to be Mr. Strickland’s daughter.
People always commented on what a big guy he was. I was always quick to point out that he was just “Daddy sized”.
The perfect size for a good bear hug. The perfect size to hold me up to see things little girls were too small to see. The perfect size to open jars. The perfect size to make me feel safe.
My Daddy was loyal. He had been a Saints fan since 1967. Need I say more? :)
My Daddy spent his free time holding onto the back of bikes, making runs to the skating rink and shopping for Ninja Turtles.
My Daddy coached basketball when I was six. He didn’t know anything about basketball, but I wanted to play and they needed a coach. So he coached basketball.
My Daddy sat through SIXTEEN dance recitals. Not because he was a lover of ballet, but because it was important to me.
My Daddy took me to work with him at his nursing home every single day the summer I was eleven. I learned to love “the least of these” and learned that my Daddy was adored by his staff. I was so proud to be “Mr. Strickland’s daughter”.
My Daddy chauffeured hormonal teenage girls to the mall in a minivan and tried to help us understand boys.
My Daddy listened to the same music I did. He was cool. :)
My Daddy taught me to keep my head on a swivel, wear my seatbelt, lock the doors and not pick up hitchhikers.
My Daddy was a great listener. He entertained many deep discussions with a daughter who thinks too much.
My Daddy told my sister and me that we could wear anything and look good. We make clothes look pretty, he said.
My Daddy encouraged me to follow my dreams and spread my wings, but made sure I knew I could always come back home.
My brother once said that we could pump gas and my Daddy would be proud of that. It’s true. He was proud of anything we did, but mostly just that we existed. Not everyone has someone like that in their lives.
My Daddy was funny. Hilarious. Hysterical. He could make me laugh until I cried, and usually about something that nobody else would understand.
My Daddy was a provider. Even after I got married I would often get envelopes marked “hamburger money”.
My Daddy could not stand to see anyone suffer. He was caring and compassionate.
I will never forget my husband coming to report back to me after announcing to a waiting room full of family and friends that our first baby had arrived. He told me everyone was anxious to see her. But he also told me that the first thing my Daddy asked was how I was. In a time when all of the attention shifted to the new baby, my Daddy wanted to make sure I was okay.
A few months later when I had to have a procedure done, my Daddy was the first one I saw when I woke up.
My Daddy was there through the good and the bad.
My Daddy was the best Daddy.
I am still proud to be Mr. Strickland’s daughter.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)