Here with me

I have a feeling I know what everyone is going to say when I start off not talking about the waiting room last night. I can see it churning in your minds and wondering what thoughts I’m thinking now and how could I not even talk about the excitement last night. I guess I’ll go ahead and ease your minds and say it was another quiet night. The older lady (who snores impressively loud for a woman) whose husband I talked about last post is in here along with the house secretary (we call him Patsy) who is also known as my excessive loud alarm clock that always buzzes entirely too early (not equipped with snooze).

As I was sitting in my dad’s room with music playing softly in the background, I began to think to myself again. It’s weird how a hospital brings about so much thought, but there is plenty of time to think and worry.  I was sitting next to his bed, and I would begin to feel him tense up and feel a cough ensuing.  While coughing (of course I was right feeling it come on) he would begin to grab for his chest, his eyes would open, and he would become slightly more alert. Although it’s obvious he’s under lots of sedation and drugs you know it hurts. Alarm after alarm would seem to go off, and the nurse (or respiratory therapist) would mosey (more dramatic way of saying come in) their way in, do a quick one over and begin to suction. The suction now is pretty much the same thing it was before but it doesn’t go as deep. Before it would have to go through his mouth and down the tube in his throat, now it just goes a little ways into his throat. There are still gag reflexes there, so he becomes agitated and turns red as if he’s choking. His eyes start to water, and not only does he feel the pain but I do too.

I was starting to think to myself how a parent feels when they see their kids in pain (not that I know, but I’ve seen it plenty of times). I can see their feelings of wanting to take their kids place and take the pain away.  Never before has this seemed so real. I’m living that feeling. It’s tough to see a loved one going through this, I don’t want to see him in pain, and I don’t want him to hurt. It’s tough to see a tear roll down his cheek and not become emotional, but I feel I need to stay strong and be there so he will remain strong and keep fighting. The tears as painful as they are, give me hope that he’s still with us. I feel that they are tears that he’s not able to express to us how he’s feeling. He wakes up, knows he’s in an unfamiliar place and has no idea what has happened. He knows I’m supposed to be in Erie going to classes, and I feel he gets worked up seeing me here with my grandparents. Part of me thinks that he feels he’s on his death bed, and thinks we’re all here to be with him in his final moments. We go through this each time he wakes up, with the sedation I don’t feel he can remember much from time to time. I refuse to believe this is his time to go, and he’s been a part of so many miracles before, I feel as if he will pull through this. He’s a fighter, and one of his main mottos in coaching was that “when the going gets tough, the tough get going.” He’s definitely been tough through all of this, and he’s fighting with us. We tell him every day that he has a ton of people praying for him, and he’s doing a great job.

Normally I’m not one to listen to the lyrics of songs, it’s usually just on in the background, and I don’t fully pay attention. This past week has been slightly different. There has been a Christian radio station playing in dad’s room fairly consistently. I have  been really listening to the words, and a song that really hit me was one titled “Here with me” by Mercy Me.

I long for your embrace

Every single day

To meet you in this place

And see you face to face

Will you show me?

Reveal yourself to me

Because of your mercy

I fall down on my knees

And I can feel your presence here with me

Suddenly I'm lost within your beauty

Caught up in the wonder of your touch

Here in this moment I surrender to your love

You're everywhere I go

I am not alone

You call me as your own

To know you and be known

You are holy

And I fall down on my knees

I can feel your presence here with me

Suddenly I'm lost within your beauty

Caught up in the wonder of your touch

Here in this moment I surrender to your love

I surrender to your grace

I surrender to the one who took my place

I can feel your presence here with me

Suddenly I'm lost within your beauty

Caught up in the wonder of your touch

Here in this moment I surrender:

I can feel your presence here with me

Suddenly I'm lost within your beauty

Caught up in the wonder of your touch

Here in this moment I surrender to your love

Today has been fairly quiet up to this point, dad is resting quietly and hasn’t had many hiccups to this point. We have had the nurse before so I’m happy about that, but she rules with an iron fist. She’s thorough, experienced and she communicates well; all qualities I want in a nurse working with dad. We’re still trying to keep it quiet for him. He’s now only on one IV pole (each pole can have up to 4 drips). They’re weaning his fetanyl drip (which is for pain and sedation). The nurse stopped the fetanyl this morning to see his responsiveness and alertness. The nurse was pleased with her testing and reported to us that he was responding by squeezing his hands. She also reported that they are planning another “sedation vacation” in the future and see how well he tolerates that. Another positive note of today was that the kidney doctor reported that if his numbers keep declining for creatinine and bun, then they will take out the tubes on the right side of his neck that the dialysis machine hooks up too. We’re happy with this news and we’re praying for bowels to work consistently, as well as calmness and decreased anxiety so that we can wean the vent and the sedation.