The Next Day
00:07
Alright, at this point I'm just writing, hoping that my solitude somehow feels less scary. In some ways, it's relieving. My husband gets to be with his father and I can watch over my dog and my own parents who, in their own way, are fighting to survive tonight, too.
You know, I've been talking to God, praying, and I don't even really know what to pray anymore. I want to be realistic and also hopeful. He's had 3 heart failures. At least, we're assuming that's what the first one was.
Is it wrong to pray for the least amount of disturbance? Whatever will cause the least amount of pain? Doesn't sound like something I should be praying for, I don't know. There are tons of prayers in the bible to model ours after but not really ones that we shouldn't pray.
Okay. No more filtering. I'm just going to let my fingers write what I need to say.
This could be it. My husband either comes home more defeated than ever with his faith and patience tested to its absolute limit because his dad will be recovering or because his dad will be gone.
00:19
My eyes are getting droopy and my head finally doesn't hurt enough that I may be able to fall asleep.
God, I don't doubt that you're in control. I know you are. And I also know that trusting you isn't easy - not because you're not trustworthy, but because you take us to places we really don't want to have to go.
I want to say I'm doubting your goodness, but I see it. The prayer chain, people extending their love and care in the ways they know how. People are being so kind and generous. Out of all Sundays for this tragedy to happen, our two youngest nurses at church just happen to be there - and they were amazing. We all heard a message of faith in uncertainty, focusing on the eternal... "Faith is not tied to the promises being fulfilled here and now" (Hebrews 11:13-16).
God, I don't know what your goodness looks like in this situation. I know you will be faithful to fulfill your promises. I know you will never leave us alone. I know that you haven't abandoned us. I know that your faithfulness doesn't depend on our obedience - you are faithful because that's just who you are. But man.. this just doesn't feel good.
I don't want to lose my dad. I don't want to sit and wait through this uncertainty. I don't want to worry, if he comes out of there alive and well, that this will happen again out of nowhere. I don't want any of it.
But we're so far from rewinding the tape. We can't undo what's been done. I don't doubt that you have a plan and I don't doubt that it's a good plan. But I hate what's happening.
00:29
I said I would sleep. I guess I'll try now.
03:32
Ventricular tachycardia — the fancy name for an abnormal heartbeat. They said they’ll need to keep him for at least two more days in the hospital.
I managed to fall asleep somehow. Sweaty, so uncomfortable, not wanting to miss a call. My phone right next to my ear. It never rang.
Bailey’s barks woke me up. Someone had come home. My husband walked in our bedroom, flicked the light on, and I was so disoriented. I tried blinking my eyes open. What time was it?
A loud disruptive entrance. A very unexpected return home. What was the look on his face?
Before he left for the hospital, he was packing his backpack for what he thought would be an overnight stay. I was prepared to have to hold him up when he’d get home the next day. We never thought that him coming home in the middle of the night was one of the possibilities.
But things were okay. He got to see, touch and talk to his dad. He trusted the doctors. They explained everything.
Pa’s son spoke to me with clarity. It was like we pressed play on a tape recording of the doctor's report. He’s good at memorizing stuff like that, and you could tell it gave him so much peace knowing all the science I would not be able to understand.
He recited the doctor’s mini speech word for word.
Electro node something something. No blockages. No angioplasty. Staying for at least two days. Someone to read the reading tomorrow. Tall Filipino doctor with glasses.
Stable.
That was the word I held onto.
My parents came out from their bedroom and he recited it again. I was still in bed, so shocked that this was happening.
Pleasantly surprised, maybe? There was no ounce of me, like at all, that thought this was a possible scenario.
Pa is ok. He’s actually in the best hands. Maybe some of the best in the city.
I know he’s been in the best hands this whole time. I know. The best.
But it doesn't make it much easier.
09:18
Wow, it's actually morning. Somehow we got to sleep. Don't get me wrong, we were exhausted and relieved last night when he came home, but I don't feel well-rested at all.
He got another brief episode of seizure and they shock him again. He will be seen by the electrophysiologist today to assess him.
I couldn't watch when they used the defibrillator on him yesterday at church.
"Everyone stand clear!"
"Nobody touch him!"
[ Insert AED robot voice here ]
*shock*
"There's still no pulse."
What a freakin' trauma ride.
Pa isn't a big guy. He's got hips that don't lie and can cycle at least 40 km/hr faster than anyone that lives in this house, but a small guy like him can only handle so many shocks. His body was fighting.
People mean well when they say be strong. I heard a few people tell my husband that yesterday.
"You don't have to be strong, okay? You don't", I told him.
Being strong meant he couldn't think too much about it all. He couldn't let himself melt into his grief, anxiety and sadness, because "being strong" meant holding it together.
Nope. That's not what I expect of my husband when his dad is fighting for his life on the first day of a new year. That's not what I expect of anyone who would have to endure that kind of trauma with a loved one.
Being strong was not an option when we watched our dad lay lifeless on the nasty church carpet, soiled pants, crowded by nurses who know so much better than we did. My husband knows CPR but being strong meant that he wouldn't have been able to watch and cry next to his sister. It was one of the first moments he was able to take in what could have been Pa's last breaths. He wouldn't have the chance until much later in the day and not for long before receiving a phone call of his second episode.
Come on, God. At least until his daughter's wedding. Please, Lord. She can't go without him. That wouldn't be fair.
10:07
Since October, it's been a race against the clock. We've been trying to cram as many fun family things into our schedule as possible before cancer decides to take her out for good, not realizing that we're all on a short timeline.
15:16
If you lie down in a silent room and listen carefully, you can hear your own heartbeat.
Things are good but they’re also not. I know most people start with the bad then end with the good. [insert bad situation] BUT [insert some platitude that doesn’t really help make the bad situation feel any less bad].
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