Paternal Update
So, I saw my dad yesterday. He looked damn good for having had his entire chest rearranged the day before. I did get a bit more information from the step-mom as well, which was nice.
So Dad and Step Mom were driving one of her sisters to O'Hare for a flight back to Italy on Sunday. (Yes, I am more than a bit miffed that they were in my area again and weren't going to even TELL ME THEY WERE HERE, but I figure I'll yell at him about that when he's out of the ICU. It's an ongoing battle between us.) They were staying at another sister's house who lives about 3 hours south of Chicago and stayed up late into the night playing cards and chatting. Finally went to sleep around 2am.
Dad woke up at 3:30 complaining of heartburn. Stepmom got him some ant-acid and he laid back down when he started to feel better. 3:45 he was back up agin, stating it was uncomfortable to lay down. He looked pale and ashen, and was clammy to the touch. Step-mom and one aunt bundled dad into the car and drove his protesting butt to the emergency room.
At the ER, the doc took some blood and noticed his enzyme levels were elevated, but that it wasn't anything to really worry about. The local hospital didn't have a cardiologist, so they were transferring him to a bigger town about 30 miles away for observation overnight just in case. The docs bundle him into an ambulance adn head to the bigger hospital.
No one tells my step-mom or aunt which hospital they are taking him to, though, and the larger town has three. Luckily my uncle is still sitting at home at this point, so he does some leg work, tracks down my dad and points them in the right direction.
On the ride there, dad's blood pressure spiked and then plummeted. He didn't quite go into cardiac arrest, but he did a wonderful two-step all around it. Get him stabilized and rush him to the ER where he's seen by the cardiologist and about 300 other hospital workers. He gets poked, prodded, jabbed and examined to the nth degree. The cardiologist finally says he has another patient and he'll schedule my dad for open heart surgery at 2pm.
Five minutes later he's back in the ER saying "nope, we cut you NOW" and has everyone start getting my dad ready to slice and dice ASAP. They're still not exactly sure what's going on, but it's not good, adn it can't wait 7 hours. At this point I get the call from Stepmom saying "so, we're in Illinois BTW, and your dad is getting sent in for emergency open heart surgery, so if you could call me when you get this I'd appreciate it."
8.5 hours later Dad emerges from surgery, a bloody phoenix from the ashes, with not one, but SIX bypasses on his heart. According to the cardiologist, dad's arteries were so calcified it was a miracle he was getting any blood in his heart at all. He told us that not only had he never seen anything in such bad shape before, but that if she'd waited another 20 minutes to bring him in, or if he hadn't decided to switch the patients around, my father would probably be dead. It is, literally, miraculous that he's still breathing today.
The COG and I drove through two tornado warnings and sheeting rain for 3.5 hours before the sun broke and we say the hospital in the rising fog. My mood lifted in much the same way when I walked in to find my dad laying in the bed looking worn out and bedraggled, but remarkably like my dad. His color is good. His breathing is a bit shallow, but regular. He's got a sexy scar to match the stepmom's now. He was even joking with us and giving his nurses a hard time, which was the best sign of all.
He's got a long recovery ahead of him, and I am sure there are going to be some set backs and such. . . but I think he's going to be okay. I'm actually pretty sure he'll feel better than he has in YEARS now that he's actually getting blood into his heart in a stream instead of a trickle.
I'm still a bit of a basket case, knowing how close I came to losing him this weekend, but I'm much better than I was on Saturday afternoon. I'm actually very fortunate that they're here in IL instead of in Ohio so I can go and visit over the weekends without difficulty. That extra 4 hours in the car each way really adds up.
Tonight I am ditching physical therapy, going home and drinking about 3 pitchers of bloody marys (off subject. . . how do you pluralize mary?) before going to sleep. Early.
So thank you all for your prayers, thoughts and good wishes. I know everyone's been having such a tough time lately and I really appreciate you all. I'll keep giving updates as I get them, but for now, I think he's going to be okay.
So Dad and Step Mom were driving one of her sisters to O'Hare for a flight back to Italy on Sunday. (Yes, I am more than a bit miffed that they were in my area again and weren't going to even TELL ME THEY WERE HERE, but I figure I'll yell at him about that when he's out of the ICU. It's an ongoing battle between us.) They were staying at another sister's house who lives about 3 hours south of Chicago and stayed up late into the night playing cards and chatting. Finally went to sleep around 2am.
Dad woke up at 3:30 complaining of heartburn. Stepmom got him some ant-acid and he laid back down when he started to feel better. 3:45 he was back up agin, stating it was uncomfortable to lay down. He looked pale and ashen, and was clammy to the touch. Step-mom and one aunt bundled dad into the car and drove his protesting butt to the emergency room.
At the ER, the doc took some blood and noticed his enzyme levels were elevated, but that it wasn't anything to really worry about. The local hospital didn't have a cardiologist, so they were transferring him to a bigger town about 30 miles away for observation overnight just in case. The docs bundle him into an ambulance adn head to the bigger hospital.
No one tells my step-mom or aunt which hospital they are taking him to, though, and the larger town has three. Luckily my uncle is still sitting at home at this point, so he does some leg work, tracks down my dad and points them in the right direction.
On the ride there, dad's blood pressure spiked and then plummeted. He didn't quite go into cardiac arrest, but he did a wonderful two-step all around it. Get him stabilized and rush him to the ER where he's seen by the cardiologist and about 300 other hospital workers. He gets poked, prodded, jabbed and examined to the nth degree. The cardiologist finally says he has another patient and he'll schedule my dad for open heart surgery at 2pm.
Five minutes later he's back in the ER saying "nope, we cut you NOW" and has everyone start getting my dad ready to slice and dice ASAP. They're still not exactly sure what's going on, but it's not good, adn it can't wait 7 hours. At this point I get the call from Stepmom saying "so, we're in Illinois BTW, and your dad is getting sent in for emergency open heart surgery, so if you could call me when you get this I'd appreciate it."
8.5 hours later Dad emerges from surgery, a bloody phoenix from the ashes, with not one, but SIX bypasses on his heart. According to the cardiologist, dad's arteries were so calcified it was a miracle he was getting any blood in his heart at all. He told us that not only had he never seen anything in such bad shape before, but that if she'd waited another 20 minutes to bring him in, or if he hadn't decided to switch the patients around, my father would probably be dead. It is, literally, miraculous that he's still breathing today.
The COG and I drove through two tornado warnings and sheeting rain for 3.5 hours before the sun broke and we say the hospital in the rising fog. My mood lifted in much the same way when I walked in to find my dad laying in the bed looking worn out and bedraggled, but remarkably like my dad. His color is good. His breathing is a bit shallow, but regular. He's got a sexy scar to match the stepmom's now. He was even joking with us and giving his nurses a hard time, which was the best sign of all.
He's got a long recovery ahead of him, and I am sure there are going to be some set backs and such. . . but I think he's going to be okay. I'm actually pretty sure he'll feel better than he has in YEARS now that he's actually getting blood into his heart in a stream instead of a trickle.
I'm still a bit of a basket case, knowing how close I came to losing him this weekend, but I'm much better than I was on Saturday afternoon. I'm actually very fortunate that they're here in IL instead of in Ohio so I can go and visit over the weekends without difficulty. That extra 4 hours in the car each way really adds up.
Tonight I am ditching physical therapy, going home and drinking about 3 pitchers of bloody marys (off subject. . . how do you pluralize mary?) before going to sleep. Early.
So thank you all for your prayers, thoughts and good wishes. I know everyone's been having such a tough time lately and I really appreciate you all. I'll keep giving updates as I get them, but for now, I think he's going to be okay.