**WARNING** Extremely emotional post to follow.
4 1/2 years ago, in October, I was excitedly expecting the birth of my first daughter in a matter of months. I was working part time at a preschool that I loved and my life was simply amazing. I had turned 30 the year before and had received THE BEST birthday present ever. My daddy had told me a few weeks after my birthday that he had quit smoking a month earlier. He had smoked for over 50 years, people. This was a BIG DEAL. And it had been one of my heart's deepest desires, one of my most fervent prayers, the hope of a little girl for her daddy to give up his life-threatening bad habit. Finally, it had happened, and so unexpectedly.
So I got a call in October a year later (back to 4 1/2 years ago) from my dad late one night. Through tears, more for my sake than his own fear, my daddy told me he'd thought he had pneumonia so he went to the doctor. He walked away from an ER visit with the assumption of the ER doctor that he needed more testing, but likely had lung cancer. LUNG CANCER. It wasn't completely unexpected, given his recently ended habit, but it was still just as hard to hear. We cried together. I called my baby brother to let him know dad was trying to reach him. He also called our middle brother. The news devastated us all. He said he was going to the VA in the morning for a second opinion because he was not impressed with the vague answers he got at the local hospital.
After discussing it with my husband that night, I decided I would make the 3 1/2 hour drive to the VA to be there with my dad in the morning. I had no idea how long I would be staying. I just knew I needed to be there. When I walked in the following morning, I had gotten there just in time. My dad and my aunt were waiting to get into his appointment. Only there was a problem. The Dr had been unexpectedly called out for a family emergency. They wanted my dad to be seen the following day instead. I stepped into the discussion, pleading for an appointment that day, explaining my father needed answers and was clearly in need of a doctor. He hadn't even been able to walk in to the ER from the parking lot because his breathing was too labored. He had been sitting in a wheel chair while waiting and although he was exerting no energy, he was still unable to breathe. The triage nurse said it was a no-go. He'd have to wait. I told her fine, we'd walk down to the ER instead. After much arguing and not giving up on our part, she finally said she'd "take his stats, and if they warranted it, let us go to the ER." Needless to say, his Pulse-Ox was only 82% rather than the 90+ it should've been. Idiot nurse finally did her job and sent us to the ER. Little brothers joined me and my aunt in waiting for answers. When I got to go back to see my dad, the Dr came in and asked if he'd ever had a heart attack. He answered that he'd never had one, but the Dr assured him he was having one at that moment. He was sent to ICU. Over the next few hours tests were run and he was told he'd be transferred to St Francis to see a specialist. Tests showed he had actually had numerous "silent" heart attacks over a period of probably years and may need bypass surgery. My brothers and I had grabbed supper while we waited for the paperwork and transfer. We got to St Francis and were met by the chaplain who wanted me to sign paperwork to become my dad's Medical Power of Attorney in case he was incapacitated and couldn't make decisions. Dad needed to sign before going under sedation. Real life decisions hit REAL quick. The reality of being an adult, the oldest in the family, and a future of possibly making life and death decisions for one of my parents sucker-punched me in the gut.
Over the next week, my dad was determined not to be a candidate for bypass. They opted for placing stints instead to open up his arteries. He had a total of 3 of them placed. After the surgery, the Dr told us one of his major arteries was 100% blocked (leaving part of his heart muscle dead), one was 60% blocked and one was 40% blocked. He had been functioning on only 15% of his heart. They said if he had gone home the first day instead of to the ER, he wouldn't be here. **Insert future plan to write Cardiologist at VA letter about the asinine triage nurse.** After the hospital stay, dad stayed with my aunt for a few days then came to stay with us for 2 weeks while he recovered and adjusted to life on medication as well as a new diet. A few months later, he received his diagnosis of Congestive Heart Failure, as well as a prognosis of 5-10 years...
Long post, I realize, but I wanted to give you the back story. Today my daddy turns 72. Today it has been 4 1/2 years. My daddy was given a second chance. I don't know how accurate the 5-10 year prognosis is or how much time we have left. He is doing as well as can be expected now and taking better care of himself in order to have as long as possible. So today, I'm thankful. I'm thankful for medical professionals who know what they're doing. I'm thankful we were persistent with the one who didn't so he could be seen. I'm thankful my daddy was around to meet my first daughter, and, God-willing, that he'll be here when we bring our second one home from China this summer. I'm thankful for celebrating his 70th with him and making a big deal of him that day. I'm thankful, believe it or not, for the CHF forcing us to realize, you can't take life for granted. You can't assume you have forever. You can't live in the past and you can't predict the future. But you CAN live today, in the here and now. You CAN tell those you love how much you love them. You CAN live life intentionally, on purpose. So today, I celebrate my daddy. The man I've looked up to my whole life. The man who never let me forget I was his princess. The man who let me know he had my back, no matter what, until the day he handed that job over to my husband and became my back-up. ;) I'm thankful for the time I've been given so far and for whatever time remains. I'm thankful for second chances. Happy Birthday to the first man to ever hold my heart! I love you more than words Daddy!
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