dad's heart surgery

On Sunday morning, I flew to California to be with my sweet parents during my dad's heart surgery.  Kevin took this picture when he dropped me off :)

He had been in the hospital for a week already and I was really frustrated with how things were going, so I was anxious to get there.  

The back story: My mom had called 911 in the middle of the night after Dad woke her up with complaints of chest pain.  The paramedics arrived quickly and took him straight to Kaiser in San Jose. They did a few tests and determined that they needed to do an angiogram.  They suspected that he needed a bypass surgery, so they transferred him to a specialty hospital in Santa Clara. He was on the schedule for a few days later and I was trying to figure out a way to get there with everything we had going on here at home.  Jerry and Bev offered to help with the kids and I was so grateful. The frustrating thing was that he was bumped from the schedule and was told that he might have to wait weeks for the surgery.  Apparently when more life threatening cases arrived at the hospital, those patients took priority.  I get that, but it was also super frustrating because obviously my dad needed a surgery as well and he was so uncomfortable in the hospital.  He developed a bed sore within a few days and my mom was also driving up to Santa Clara every day, which made her nervous with all the traffic. I also couldn't understand how they could keep someone waiting for weeks on end in the hospital. 

My mom said that she didn't need anyone to fly out, but I hated the idea of her waiting during the surgery by herself. So, I eventually just booked a flight and was hoping that he would actually get to have the surgery while I was there. Lots of people were fasting and praying for us, and by some miracle, he was back on the schedule for Tuesday for a double bypass.  

The day I arrived...

Lunch break with Mom...

We went home to sleep that night, took a brisk walk the next morning, then headed back to the hospital to keep Dad company...

They had him up and moving every few hours, which was really good for him.

I figured we needed one last picture of his chest before open heart surgery...

The next day, we brought pillows and pajamas so we could stay the night and be ready for an early morning surgery.

Watching them take Dad away for pre-op was a little scary, but I was hoping and praying that this surgery would allow his life to be extended.

Dad seemed to be in pretty good spirits, but he had been watching lots of videos about what to expect and about how they actually do the open heart surgery.  It was interesting to watch, but a little crazy as well when you really stopped to think about them cracking open his chest and opening him up. 

It was an emotional day of waiting during the 7 hour surgery, but honestly the hardest part was the 6 hours it took to get him fully awake and off the ventilator.  We received a text that he was out of surgery and waking up, but I was pretty surprised that they came to get us quite so quickly.  I was also not really prepared for what he looked like when I walked into the room.  He looked good, but also like he was dead.  It's hard to explain, but he was just so still. The nurse told us that we could talk to him, so we started holding his hand and trying to get him to wake up. He wasn't doing anything, which was alarming. They had told us that people with Parkinson's Disease had a harder time coming off the ventilator for some reason, so that concern was in the back of our minds.  They also said that if patients didn't come off the ventilator within 6 hours, the likelihood of them getting off was lower. So in our minds, we knew that he needed to be off within 6 hours. When we were back with Dad, I think it had been about 2 hours post surgery.  We kept talking to him, and he would sometimes flicker his eyes, but nothing more.  I started getting really worried, and my mom was talking to him like he was a baby, telling him it was okay for him to wake up.  The nurse was just on her computer entering information, but wasn't saying anything.  She didn't seem concerned, but I was annoyed that she wasn't helping us or giving us any feedback.  A few times she came over and spoke loudly to my dad and told him that he needed to open his eyes, but that didn't happen either.  I eventually asked her if we should be concerned, and she said that it was okay, sometimes it just takes time. I wish she would have told us that before because I could tell that we were both super concerned and had an underlying fear that he wasn't going to wake up.

A few hours of waiting later and he finally started opening his eyes.  He kept squeezing our hands and had this fear in his eyes.  We didn't know what he was trying to tell us, but we assumed it was something to do with the ventilator tube in his throat or chest pain.  Mom felt bad because he didn't want to hold her hand anymore, but we really had no idea what was wrong.  It was trial and error as we tried to readjust his body to get him comfortable, and his stats kept fluctuating. 

Eventually, a respiratory therapist came into the room and told us that they needed to get him off the ventilator because we were getting close to the 6 hour mark.  They said we could stay if we wanted, but Mom wanted to step outside.  I was prepared to stay, but when it came time to remove it, they asked me to step outside because they told me it was hard to watch. After what felt like forever, they invited us to come back inside.  Dad seemed more comfortable with the tube gone, but was still dealing with pain from the actual surgery. He had so many tubes connected to him and multiple ports with blood draining to boxes on the floor.  I wasn't freaked out from all blood, but the whole concept was pretty crazy. 

Shortly after waking him up, they told him that he needed to get up and walk.  He was not excited about that, and it was so hard to see my dad in pain as he tried to maneuver his body to the edge of the seat.  He started asking my mom for help, but the OT told him repeatedly that he didn't need her help, that they were going to do it together.  Dad didn't seem convinced that he could actually do it, but with some tough love from the OT, he was up and taking a few steps.  Dad was moaning as he took those steps and although the therapist didn't seem super charismatic, he was very attentive to dad and was doing his job.  The blood was flowing more than ever, which we were told is normal from the movement. They explained that it was really important for him to get up and walk frequently to help with the recovery process, but it wasn't easy. 

The doctor checked in a bit later and was very happy with how his heart was doing.  I'm so thankful for the power of prayer and for all the healthcare workers that are continuing to care for my dad. 

I was sad to leave the next day, but I needed to get home and back to my family.  I was so grateful for my in-laws and Kevin for holding down the fort while I was gone. One of my Activity Day girls sent this note to me...

Kimberly flew out a few days after me and helped with the adjustment when Dad came home from the hospital.  It's so hard to be so far away when your parents need you, but I tried to call every day to try to support them.