All I Want For Christmas is My Daddy Back

On Monday December 21, 2008, my dad had to go to the ER because his heart was beating too fast. They kept him there trying to bring it back down and finally had to put him under to shock his heart with electrodes on his back and chest. It seemed to work and he was sent home.

On Christmas Eve, my mom drove him to the VA clinic near the Timpanogos Hospital to do some blood work as a follow-up. They took his blood and told him to come back in 45 minutes for results. As they were walking down and out to the car, my dad kept complaining that he was hot and that he couldn't breathe. He said he would need to change his oxygen out in the car and hopefully help him breath better. When they had arrived at the hospital earlier, all the handicapped parking places were taken. Being Christmas Eve, the clinic was closing soon and so all the places were empty by the time they could see through the doors to the outside. My mom told him to stay there and she would pull the car up to the front so he didn't have to walk. He kept saying he couldn't breathe. She started to go out to the car and he followed her.

When they got to the car and he sat down, she got his new tank for him and noticed he was just sitting there. She got in the driver's seat and looked over to see my dad's face and lips blue. He wasn't breathing and was slumped over. She drove across the parking lot to the Timpanogos Hospital and pulled right up to the doors of the ER. The doors didn't open because they were for the ambulance, but she pounded and pounded until they opened up. She told them what had happened and a few started working on him while another went to get a gurney. He didn't have a pulse when they got to him in the car and had an extremely difficult time getting him out of his seat and onto the gurney. By the time they got him into the ER, it was getting close to 8 minutes without oxygen or a pulse. My brother, Paul, arrived in time to witness them agressively trying to revive him. He said he wished he had never seen it.

In the meantime, my mom had called my brothers and told them dad was dead. Dale called me and told me he "was gone." He didn't even have to say who. We'd all been worried this would come sooner than later. My mom called me a minute or two later and she didn't even say hello. All I could hear was hysterical sobbing and hyperventilating, which put me into the same state. She choked out that they were trying to revive him and she'd call me later. Cameron was nearby and noticed me pacing frantically and crying and asked me what was wrong. I told him Papa was very sick and had to go to the hospital. I kept thinking, "They HAVE to revive him. They will revive him. It will be ok, right? Right?!" I didn't know the whole story yet but I had a feeling that he couldn't be gone. Still, I called Rhett immediately, without realizing that I couldn't talk in my hysterical state. He tried to calm me down and I took some deep breaths and told him I would call him back once I heard more.

My mom called about 5 minutes later and said they had revived him and they were going to try and figure out what happened. I asked if I should come to the hospital and she said I should because you never know what could happen.

I was frantic again thinking of how I was going to get the kids ready. I was still in my pjs even though it was 2pm. The house was a disaster area and my goal that day was to have it spotless for Christmas. So much for that idea. Brenden had just gone down for a nap 45 minutes earlier and would I just wake him up or could someone come and watch the kids? I didn't want them at the hospital with me and I hated to wake Bren up. Rhett wouldn't be off work until 5pm or so and that would be too late. I texted a neighbor who always babysits for me and then racked my brain for what to do if she couldn't come over, which was most likely, it being so last minute. A split second later, my phone rang and it was Breanna saying she was five minutes away and she would be right there to help me with the kids. I let out a huge breath that I didn't realize I had been holding onto and burst in tears - tears of extreme relief and gratefulness and tears of absolute fear and sadness.

Mark, Jeanine, Gavin and Breanna had been shopping in SLC and then were out to lunch when my mom called. They dropped everything and left to go back to Orem. I was on their way home and can't even tell you how it saved me that they stopped. Breanna helped me get the kids ready and the rest of them cleaned my house. They cleaned my dirty hole of a kitchen and front room while I was getting the kids ready. I was so embarrassed and so overly grateful. It was difficult to chose which I was more of, so I mostly just cried. Cried while they swept and loaded and wiped and picked up faster than I could protest or realize what was going on. They did more for me in that little time than I could have thought. Jeanine kept saying, "You don't want to have to deal with all of this and then come home to a messy house so we'll take care of it."
(Thanks, you guys.
Thank you very much.
It's the nicest thing that anyone's ever done for me).

They also took my kids to my grandma's house while I stayed at the hospital with my mom, Dale, Pete and Paul and waited. That's all we could do was wait. Wait and speculate and worry and not know what was going to happen next. Garry was on his way back from Vegas where he had spent time with Jan and their kids and Jan's parents. He called each of us individually to get information from time to time.

We were there for about 4 hours just waiting and talking and crying and waiting. The doctors did an xray on his lungs because his heart was beating strongly, without problems. They couldn't do too much because his kidneys were straining but they concluded that a blood clot in his lung probably started it all.

We reluctantly left after that. There was nothing else we could do. But someone was there visiting him everyday. If it wasn't me or my mom or my brothers it was my uncles or aunts or family friends. He finally woke up on Sunday but we all kind of missed it. He had been in the coma for five days. When he awoke in the morning, he was answering appropriately to the questions the nurses asked but then realized he was intubated and wanted it out. He got very aggressive and they had to sedate him again. We came after that, not knowing all of it until we got there.

Finally, we saw him on Monday and he was awake and talking. While he was being intubated, he bit down extremely hard on his tongue and made it black and blue. Even still has teeth marks in it. So talking to him was a little difficult because it was tough to understand him at times. He also was still a bit loopy and couldn't remember a lot of things but it was such a relief that he had his eyes open.

When I first walked into the room on Monday, he was excited to see me and told me in a slow cadence, trying to talk around his tongue and the lingering sedation, that I was beautiful. He asked the male nurse, didn't he think I was beautiful? Then he asked him if he was married and he said no. I said, "Yeah, but dad, I AM. I'M married!" and he was like, "Oh, yeah? When did that happen? How long have you been married?" He also could kind of remember Cameron when I showed him a picture and even called him Wild Man, which is what he used to call him before all this happened, but he couldn't remember Brenden. He also didn't know what year it was and answered 1975, 1970 and 1976 when he was asked throughout our time there.

He recalled Vietnam and told me a few stories as if I hadn't heard them before and also that he was Student Body President and State Wrestling Champion. He said the girl who counted the votes had never seen a 90% win. He cried thinking of his buddy from Vietnam who he baptized but who later went inactive and joined the Baptist church. That really upset him. He talked about how I had butchered Bren's haircut but I should cut it like his mom used to cut his and Larry's hair. He remembered picking plums and cherries and his mom making jam with them and how there were orchards all over the place. He kept telling me we should leave and go get some dinner or did I want him to give me some money to go get some food. He kept saying he was thirsty and complained a little about how crappy the nurses were (which they weren't). He also teased the nurse when he came in to take his blood, calling him a blood-sucker. Hearing him tease and joke with the nurses and us was a good sign, but other things were still a little defeating. We had to continuously tell him he couldn't leave and at one point he asked me to order him some clutches so he could leave. I told him I didn't understand and did he meant crutches but he even spelled out c-l-u-t-c-h-e-s and didn't I know those wooden things that go under your arms that help you to walk? I said, yes but they're called cRutches and he looked to Paul for confirmation, as if I was crazy. Paul confirmed and he gave in.

He was remembering all of the aspects of his life clearly, but didn't remember that I already knew them. He wasn't sure who the president was or how he had gotten where he was. He kept asking if the car was totaled from his accident and what operation was he going to have. He couldn't remember that he was diabetic and told the nurse that he never had taken his blood sugar before, which of course he had always done a few times a day. Paul and I explained the same things a few times and he just couldn't keep them in his head. He was very confused and distraught at times. He kept asking for my mom and I explained a few times that she was watching my kids and I would have to go to relieve her so she could come. Finally I told him that Paul and I would go so mom could come over and he started crying. He whispered slowly through his tears, "Don't leave me. I want to leave with you." Paul left to go relieve mom and I stayed with him until she got there. He lit up when he saw her and was hugging and kissing us both excessively.

I left soon after, so exhausted from the emotional stress of the week but feeling so thankful that he was still with us, even if it was in bits and pieces.

And with all of the elements of Christmas Eve that seemed to play out in his favor, we are all praying that he makes a full recovery because it seems that's how it is supposed to be. There are too many other possibilities that would have made this situation a lot more fatal than it turned out to be. We are blessed and know that the Lord and His Angels were and are watching out for our dad and our family.