This is my therapy, you know. Anyone out there, reading this? You are my therapist. Even if you never say a word, even if I don’t know you or know that you’re reading, it is still greatly therapeutic for me to come to this place, my little corner of the Internet, and emotionally vomit every now and then. So, thanks.
You might recall my previous post in which I complained about my crappy week. Oh, but that was only the tip of the iceberg. My mother called tonight to tell me that my dad has had another heart attack, and as I type this I don’t really know what’s going on or how he is. I’ve been assured it was a “small” heart attack, but not insignificant; “they” are puzzled because he had a quadruple bypass just two years ago, and has exercised ever since then, so how is this possible? We won’t know anything until the morning, when they go in (through a vein in his leg) and stick a little camera in his heart and check on things. I was told not to jump on a plane. But when I moved up here last summer, I didn’t realize the crippling sense of helplessness I would feel in a situation like this. I have never felt so far away from my family. If I were still in Austin, I’d have been at my mom’s house within the hour. But here, it takes a lot more finagling, and guilt all around. Not just my own guilt for not being there, oh no. You see, I come from a long line of guiltinators. If I were to jump on a plane right now, my dad would feel guilty that his heart attack has disrupted my weekend, and that would cause him more stress. I kid you not. The man was apologizing to my mom for having this happen “on Easter weekend.” Geez Louise.
Weren’t we just here? Didn’t we just do this? Even though two years ago seems so short in terms of his heart health, it also feels like a lifetime ago. A lot can happen in two years. Hell, a lot can happen in one.
I am going to try and sleep tonight so I can be bright and ready for anything tomorrow. Please say a little prayer for my dad – he’s lying in a hospital bed right now worrying about how we are all worrying about him.
Showing posts with label heart to heart. Show all posts
Showing posts with label heart to heart. Show all posts
Saturday, April 07, 2007
Wednesday, February 16, 2005
Waiting
I have been here in the waiting room at the hospital since 5:45 this morning. I have taken two 30-minute “naps” and the rest of the time I’ve been chatting with my mom, then my brother, then my sister in law. I feel very disconnected right now. I am sitting, looking out the window into the hallway at the double doors leading into the ICU where my dad lies, very still, very pale, covered in yellow “paint”, filled with tubes and wires, submerged in beeps and bells and the breathing machine. He came out of surgery about an hour ago and will remain in the ICU for several days. Right now we are waiting for him to wake up from the anesthesia. This is that trigger point I was talking about yesterday; that’s the part my Grandmother never did: wake up from the anesthesia. The surgeon sat us down and told us everything went well, he didn’t expect any complications, BUT he cannot guarantee that my dad didn’t have a stroke. They won’t know until he wakes up and “follows orders” enough for us to tell he is alert and still my dad. So here I am 12 hours later, waiting. I am in this weird, tired, goofy state; so far today I have knocked over two drinks and dropped my laptop on the floor; almost read an entire Oprah magazine – something I’ve never yet accomplished in my life; and watched 4 episodes of Law and Order, 3 episodes of ER, 2 episodes of Judging Amy, and now, the cartoon-like melodramatic nightmare that is the San Antonio 6:00 news. If you’ve ever compared the news in S.A. to the news in Austin, you will know what I mean.
Observations I’ve had today are many. Things like
• the first breakfast item listed on the menu in my dad’s room before his quadruple bypass surgery was fried eggs
• 3 out of 4 of my dad’s doctors are cute – and there really is something about doctors – hubba hubba
• food in hospital cafeterias does, indeed, suck; I was also surprised that there was nothing, absolutely nothing healthy to eat in the caf – in a HOSPITAL
• it’s hard to make small talk for 12 hours in a row
• it’s difficult, but not impossible, to sleep sitting up under fluorescent lighting surrounded by strangers
• socks are really absorbent – I discovered this when I spilled my 2nd can of coke in the waiting room and while frantically digging through my mom’s bag for Kleenex, found my dad’s socks - voila
Early this morning, during the hour or so before he was rolled into surgery at 8am, my mom reached tenderly for my dad‘s hand, stuck full of tubes. She picked it up and I thought “Awwww, I’ve never seen my parents touch” -- then she pulled his hand up to her face and said “your fingernails look weird.” BUT when they were rolling him into surgery, she did take his hand, just for a moment, for real. When we were waiting this morning, my mom was standing by my dad’s bed and I noticed that she subconsciously began to bob and rock, dancing to the bleeps on the blood pressure/heart monitor machine. And the first thing my mom asked the nurse when we got there this morning was, “how long until he can fuss at me again after the surgery?,” and the nurse, who had spent the night caring for my ornery dad, replied “how long do you want? I’m sure we can work something out.”
And so we wait.
Observations I’ve had today are many. Things like
• the first breakfast item listed on the menu in my dad’s room before his quadruple bypass surgery was fried eggs
• 3 out of 4 of my dad’s doctors are cute – and there really is something about doctors – hubba hubba
• food in hospital cafeterias does, indeed, suck; I was also surprised that there was nothing, absolutely nothing healthy to eat in the caf – in a HOSPITAL
• it’s hard to make small talk for 12 hours in a row
• it’s difficult, but not impossible, to sleep sitting up under fluorescent lighting surrounded by strangers
• socks are really absorbent – I discovered this when I spilled my 2nd can of coke in the waiting room and while frantically digging through my mom’s bag for Kleenex, found my dad’s socks - voila
Early this morning, during the hour or so before he was rolled into surgery at 8am, my mom reached tenderly for my dad‘s hand, stuck full of tubes. She picked it up and I thought “Awwww, I’ve never seen my parents touch” -- then she pulled his hand up to her face and said “your fingernails look weird.” BUT when they were rolling him into surgery, she did take his hand, just for a moment, for real. When we were waiting this morning, my mom was standing by my dad’s bed and I noticed that she subconsciously began to bob and rock, dancing to the bleeps on the blood pressure/heart monitor machine. And the first thing my mom asked the nurse when we got there this morning was, “how long until he can fuss at me again after the surgery?,” and the nurse, who had spent the night caring for my ornery dad, replied “how long do you want? I’m sure we can work something out.”
And so we wait.
Tuesday, February 15, 2005
Personal therapy
The nighttime drive I was dreading tonight turned out to be quite cathartic and soothing. It’s an easy drive, straight down I35, and it’s well lit, with hardly any traffic. I found myself just driving with the sunroof open and the radio off. I had intended to make a bunch of phone calls on my way down, but I decided I wasn’t really, truly in the mood to talk to anyone at that time. So it was just me and my thoughts for most of the hour drive.
I was thinking about how this journey to San Antonio mirrors the one I made 9 years ago, about this same time, for my Grandmother’s bypass surgery. Only that one didn’t turn out well. She had a stroke during the surgery and never woke up. I do not think that’s going to happen to my dad, but I can’t help but be triggered. I was thinking of how some things are different and some are the same. I am solo on this journey, sans husband. But really, I was also alone on the last journey, even though he was there in body. In fact, during the week of my Grandmother's surgery and death, I began shutting down to him. I didn’t even realize it at the time – or maybe I did? I do clearly remember sitting with my mom at the Black-eyed Pea on Walzem Road, and I was telling her something about how he was unsupportive. She seemed surprised because I had never before said anything to her about him that wasn’t positive. I remember I felt like I was babysitting during the whole ordeal, because my ex was being so irreverent and trying to make jokes, trying to lighten the mood – but it was not appropriate and he was pissing everybody off. (That was a common theme in our marriage, me being embarrassed by him and him laughing at me and telling me I was uptight.)
I was thinking about how I’ve never really had anyone there to support me during traumatic times. I have always taken it upon myself to be the “big sister”, which is fine, but I also sort of end up feeling like a parent. I go into this weird robo-mode of strength and numbness. I retreat there and help where I’m needed, and only feel it, really feel it, much later. I asked my friend Hope tonight what it felt like to have someone to lean on. I didn’t realize until it came out of my mouth that I really and truly don’t know. I cannot imagine truly leaning on someone. I have always had my friends, and they're awesome. But certainly not any of the men in my life. I really wonder if it’s a relief to have someone there to be strong for you – I mean it must be, right? I was starting to feel sorry for myself, oh poor Lisa, never had anybody, then something went “ding” in my brain – maybe I have never allowed anyone to support me. Maybe people have been there, offering support, but something stubborn in me will not trust or lean on anyone but myself. I’m not talking about the ex, he was NOT there. But like my sister, brother, friends – I never just sigh and totally lean into them and let them feel and shoulder some of my pain. I don’t know how. This was one of those moments of clarity I used to have with Julie after we’d worked hard on something for weeks, even months – suddenly the window would open up and I’d be like “wow.” Wow. What does this say about me, that I don’t trust any of the men I’ve been in relationships with? Maybe I don’t just pick losers, maybe some of them truly wanted to be there but I wouldn’t let them.
So I’m sitting here in my dad’s chair by the TV, laptop on lap (how about that), typing away – and I can hear my mom clicking away on her computer in the next room, sending emails to people about my dad. I am glad I’m here. Here, with my mom in this house, and here, at this point in my life.
Positive, happy thoughts and prayers.
I was thinking about how this journey to San Antonio mirrors the one I made 9 years ago, about this same time, for my Grandmother’s bypass surgery. Only that one didn’t turn out well. She had a stroke during the surgery and never woke up. I do not think that’s going to happen to my dad, but I can’t help but be triggered. I was thinking of how some things are different and some are the same. I am solo on this journey, sans husband. But really, I was also alone on the last journey, even though he was there in body. In fact, during the week of my Grandmother's surgery and death, I began shutting down to him. I didn’t even realize it at the time – or maybe I did? I do clearly remember sitting with my mom at the Black-eyed Pea on Walzem Road, and I was telling her something about how he was unsupportive. She seemed surprised because I had never before said anything to her about him that wasn’t positive. I remember I felt like I was babysitting during the whole ordeal, because my ex was being so irreverent and trying to make jokes, trying to lighten the mood – but it was not appropriate and he was pissing everybody off. (That was a common theme in our marriage, me being embarrassed by him and him laughing at me and telling me I was uptight.)
I was thinking about how I’ve never really had anyone there to support me during traumatic times. I have always taken it upon myself to be the “big sister”, which is fine, but I also sort of end up feeling like a parent. I go into this weird robo-mode of strength and numbness. I retreat there and help where I’m needed, and only feel it, really feel it, much later. I asked my friend Hope tonight what it felt like to have someone to lean on. I didn’t realize until it came out of my mouth that I really and truly don’t know. I cannot imagine truly leaning on someone. I have always had my friends, and they're awesome. But certainly not any of the men in my life. I really wonder if it’s a relief to have someone there to be strong for you – I mean it must be, right? I was starting to feel sorry for myself, oh poor Lisa, never had anybody, then something went “ding” in my brain – maybe I have never allowed anyone to support me. Maybe people have been there, offering support, but something stubborn in me will not trust or lean on anyone but myself. I’m not talking about the ex, he was NOT there. But like my sister, brother, friends – I never just sigh and totally lean into them and let them feel and shoulder some of my pain. I don’t know how. This was one of those moments of clarity I used to have with Julie after we’d worked hard on something for weeks, even months – suddenly the window would open up and I’d be like “wow.” Wow. What does this say about me, that I don’t trust any of the men I’ve been in relationships with? Maybe I don’t just pick losers, maybe some of them truly wanted to be there but I wouldn’t let them.
So I’m sitting here in my dad’s chair by the TV, laptop on lap (how about that), typing away – and I can hear my mom clicking away on her computer in the next room, sending emails to people about my dad. I am glad I’m here. Here, with my mom in this house, and here, at this point in my life.
Positive, happy thoughts and prayers.
Heart Disease 101
My dad's cathertization this morning indicated what they already suspected -- he has major arterial blockage that cannot be fixed with stents this time -- he needs bypass surgery. And fast. Probably tomorrow or Thursday, but I'm waiting to find out. He has three major blockages, any of which could cause a heart attack literally anytime -- so they want to preemptively operate, before more damage is done to the heart. My mom said there is a big "branched" artery on the back of his heart that is almost completely blocked; there is the large artery that runs down the front of the heart -- blocked. And a smaller blockage to one side of the heart -- the side that has not been treated before. So none of his previous stents have failed, his heart just keeps producing more gunk. Heart disease runs rampant in my family, unfortunately. And ironically, the relatives who have had heart attacks have been thin. What does that mean for me? It means I need to get my ass in shape. But that's for another post.
My dad is understandably glum at the thought of his chest being cracked open, but everyone I've talked to whose loved one has gone through this, the person has come out feeling 100% better and 10 years younger. So positive thoughts.
I will drive to SA when I know what the deal is, and I will update this blog again when I can. It would be great if you could send good energy/vibes/prayers in my family's general direction.
My dad is understandably glum at the thought of his chest being cracked open, but everyone I've talked to whose loved one has gone through this, the person has come out feeling 100% better and 10 years younger. So positive thoughts.
I will drive to SA when I know what the deal is, and I will update this blog again when I can. It would be great if you could send good energy/vibes/prayers in my family's general direction.
Monday, February 14, 2005
Broken hearted
This post is probably not what you're expecting, with it being Valentine's Day and all (boo-hiss). I am not broken-hearted this year, actually; maybe numb-hearted? resigned-hearted? Anyway, this post is not about me, it's about my Dad.
My Dad has been experiencing heart problems again and tomorrow they're doing a heart cathertization to see what's up. This will be his third one -- the first one was after his first heart attack in 1999 (I think - maybe 98?) and they put in a bunch of "stents", which are steel tube-like things that hold open the heart's arteries that are clogged with plaque. They work by smooshing the plaque back into the artery and opening up the passageway. He then had another cath after his second heart attack in 2003, and they again filled him up with stents that were supposed to fix everything. But 2 years later, he's having heart symptoms again and has actually been taking Nitro on a daily basis to hold another heart attack at bay until tomorrow, when they Check It Out. He is trying to be blase about it, saying he's not worried, they'll just stent him again, no big deal, but the underlying feeling in my family is that it IS a big deal. My mom has been bursting into tears and worrying incessantly that something bad is going to happen. I went to SA yesterday, ostensibly for my birthday celebration, but really, for a stealth family reunion, at my mom's request.
It was classic O Family fare: my mom would leave the room and my dad would come up to me and say "if you didn't know it, your mom is really worried...I dont' know why... she's being all morose..." and I would say "well, dad, are YOU worried?" "No." "Well you know mom." "Yeah, she's a worry wart". Then my mom would return and dad would leave the room, and my mom would turn to me and tearfully say "i'm sooo worried, i wish he would be more serious about it, what if he is having heart pains but he's ignoring them???" and I would say "mom, give him a little credit, he's had two heart attacks and I think he would know if he was having another." Dad would return and the conversation would turn to something equally uplifting like Vietnam. It was a fun-filled weekend with the O Family. The highlight was the boys, as usual; my sister's kids are delicious and delectable and made us all laugh and get warm fuzzies all day.
Last night, before I went to sleep, I picked up my dad's book that he wrote about Vietnam and began reading it for the first time. I have not been able to read it before because it upsets me too much. It's like I can't watch "Saving Private Ryan" or "We Were Soldiers" and movies like that w/out falling apart, because I know that war made my dad who he is and has had a profound effect on our whole family. Until now, I've been afraid to pick it up. But I began reading it, and it was really mesmerizing. I heard, for the first time, the voice of my dad as a young man. I heard his voice pre-war, filled with optimism and naivete. I began to see through his eyes, and there is a lot to see. Like everyone else in my family, my dad is a talented writer, and I was reeled in for several chapters before I fell asleep. I'm really glad I read it. I will probably finish it in the next few days, and I will tell him I did, and he will be happy. And I have a feeling i'll be getting insights into my dad's personality I've never even dreamed of.
So I'm counting on the miracles of medicine to fix my dad's broken heart. Because if anyone deserves 20 more years, it's my dad. He lives an active life filled with loving his grandkids and children, reconnecting with his Vietnam war buddies (and the book has made more of that possible), and living in the moment. For the first time in his life, actually. I am going to go against my own nature, inherited from my mom, and be optimistic about tomorrow. He is in good hands and has a good attitude. However, I'll be glad when it's over, as I'm sure he will be too.
So, Happy Valentine's Day -- even though I'm not big on this holiday at all. But this year I am focused on more important things than where I'm not going to dinner. I'm focused on true Matters of the Heart. Because every breath we take is truly a gift. And every moment in life is another chance to turn it all around.
My Dad has been experiencing heart problems again and tomorrow they're doing a heart cathertization to see what's up. This will be his third one -- the first one was after his first heart attack in 1999 (I think - maybe 98?) and they put in a bunch of "stents", which are steel tube-like things that hold open the heart's arteries that are clogged with plaque. They work by smooshing the plaque back into the artery and opening up the passageway. He then had another cath after his second heart attack in 2003, and they again filled him up with stents that were supposed to fix everything. But 2 years later, he's having heart symptoms again and has actually been taking Nitro on a daily basis to hold another heart attack at bay until tomorrow, when they Check It Out. He is trying to be blase about it, saying he's not worried, they'll just stent him again, no big deal, but the underlying feeling in my family is that it IS a big deal. My mom has been bursting into tears and worrying incessantly that something bad is going to happen. I went to SA yesterday, ostensibly for my birthday celebration, but really, for a stealth family reunion, at my mom's request.
It was classic O Family fare: my mom would leave the room and my dad would come up to me and say "if you didn't know it, your mom is really worried...I dont' know why... she's being all morose..." and I would say "well, dad, are YOU worried?" "No." "Well you know mom." "Yeah, she's a worry wart". Then my mom would return and dad would leave the room, and my mom would turn to me and tearfully say "i'm sooo worried, i wish he would be more serious about it, what if he is having heart pains but he's ignoring them???" and I would say "mom, give him a little credit, he's had two heart attacks and I think he would know if he was having another." Dad would return and the conversation would turn to something equally uplifting like Vietnam. It was a fun-filled weekend with the O Family. The highlight was the boys, as usual; my sister's kids are delicious and delectable and made us all laugh and get warm fuzzies all day.
Last night, before I went to sleep, I picked up my dad's book that he wrote about Vietnam and began reading it for the first time. I have not been able to read it before because it upsets me too much. It's like I can't watch "Saving Private Ryan" or "We Were Soldiers" and movies like that w/out falling apart, because I know that war made my dad who he is and has had a profound effect on our whole family. Until now, I've been afraid to pick it up. But I began reading it, and it was really mesmerizing. I heard, for the first time, the voice of my dad as a young man. I heard his voice pre-war, filled with optimism and naivete. I began to see through his eyes, and there is a lot to see. Like everyone else in my family, my dad is a talented writer, and I was reeled in for several chapters before I fell asleep. I'm really glad I read it. I will probably finish it in the next few days, and I will tell him I did, and he will be happy. And I have a feeling i'll be getting insights into my dad's personality I've never even dreamed of.
So I'm counting on the miracles of medicine to fix my dad's broken heart. Because if anyone deserves 20 more years, it's my dad. He lives an active life filled with loving his grandkids and children, reconnecting with his Vietnam war buddies (and the book has made more of that possible), and living in the moment. For the first time in his life, actually. I am going to go against my own nature, inherited from my mom, and be optimistic about tomorrow. He is in good hands and has a good attitude. However, I'll be glad when it's over, as I'm sure he will be too.
So, Happy Valentine's Day -- even though I'm not big on this holiday at all. But this year I am focused on more important things than where I'm not going to dinner. I'm focused on true Matters of the Heart. Because every breath we take is truly a gift. And every moment in life is another chance to turn it all around.
Friday, February 11, 2005
The day I was born
Today I was all ready to write about how it's not SO horrible turning 35; I was going to compare/contrast how much happier I am at 35 than I was at 25; how I'm not where I thought I'd be, but that's okay. How if I was actually where I thought I would be, married to my ex-husband and with his kids, I would be miserable, if not dead by now. And all of that is true, but I'm just feeling blue today. There is some serious stuff going on with my dad's heart condition, and it seems like these things tend to happen right around my birthday. Twice before, heart conditions have turned for the worse right around my b-day -- my grandmother in 1996 and my dad in 2003....and it's not like I'm particularly superstitious, but still. AND the sun is not out again today.
BUT. I am going to lunch with work friends and going to dinner with best friends, so the day holds promise -- if I can just pull myself out of the current funk. And I'll see my nephews tomorrow, and Cole has reportedly been drawing me tons of pictures for my birthday, so that will be cool. The one i'm looking forward to the most is his interpretation of "broccoli in a tornado". I can't wait -- I think he's a genius.
So for now, I will go and put on brighter lipstick and try to laugh at lunch. Maybe i'll feel more inspired to write something more inspiring later this afternoon.
Til then...
BUT. I am going to lunch with work friends and going to dinner with best friends, so the day holds promise -- if I can just pull myself out of the current funk. And I'll see my nephews tomorrow, and Cole has reportedly been drawing me tons of pictures for my birthday, so that will be cool. The one i'm looking forward to the most is his interpretation of "broccoli in a tornado". I can't wait -- I think he's a genius.
So for now, I will go and put on brighter lipstick and try to laugh at lunch. Maybe i'll feel more inspired to write something more inspiring later this afternoon.
Til then...
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