One of the scarier moments in my life.
You know things are bad when your father holds your hand as tight as he
can and, between fighting for breaths, he says "I'm scared". Everything
took a huge change in that moment. Until then, going into the Critical
Care Unit, seeing all the wires and tubes didn't really phase me. I
knew things were serious, but in that moment (and for some considerable
time afterwards) I really thought I was going to see my father die in
front of me.
When I returned to NZ, my mum and my sister picked me up at the airport. Dad had stayed at home because he wasn't feeling the best. My dad does have a few health problems, so this wasn't really anything new. Anyway, he was really happy to see me when I got back. He asked lots of questions about the trip (not to mention about thevixen).
For a couple of days I stayed with my parents before moving over to my little sister's place. She had been looking after my cat, Pepper. She left for Sacramento, to see my older sister, a couple of days after that. I made regular trips to my parent's place each day, mainly to use the net (since there was no access at my sister's place). During this time, my dad developed a nasty cough (nastier than normal considering he was a smoker). He went to the doctor, who diagnosed a chest infection and gave him antibiotics.
On Wednesday night, about a week after my little sister left, I had a phone call from mum: "Dad is complaining of chest pains. I've called an ambulance." I drove across Auckland FAST, and arrived about 5 minutes after the ambulance did. Dad wasn't good. They had him hooked to an ECG, but the readings did show it wasn't a heart attack. Since my dad has heart problems, I instantly thought that when mum called. Despite the small relief, there was still something seriously wrong with him (one of the paramedics mentioned pulmonary oedema).
We arrived at the hospital around 10:30pm. Dad was quite agitated and kept trying to get up even though he was fighting to breathe. They gave him nebulizers, morphine and antibiotics. It was around 4:30am when mum and I left the emergency department. They still weren't happy about moving him, so it was a few more hours before the decision was made to put him in the Critical Care Unit.
When you're sick, Critical Care is the best place to be. The ward is quite open plan, although each bed has it's own space and each patient has their own nurse 24 hours a day. Dad was looking a bit better when I saw him there. He was still obviously unwell, and was still having trouble breathing, but he was looking better and talking with us. The doctor pulled us aside and told us in general terms what was wrong. That was a reality check. He said he had classic early signs of emphysema (from around 40 years of smoking), which had made the chest infection worse. On top of that, the extra fluids from the infection were putting him in a state of congestive heart failure.
The next day (Friday) I had a call from mum (she always went in to the hospital before me) to say that dad was looking better and they were going to move him to a general ward. I'm not quite sure what happened, but when I arrived I saw my aunt and two of my uncles standing outside the ward looking upset. When I went in, Dad looked awful. He was in a state of panic. His heart rate was up around 140, his oxygen saturation was low, and he was fighting hard to breathe. I held his hand, and that is when he told me he was scared. I could see it in his eyes. I couldn't do anything except hold his hand. I kept looking between him and the monitors, almost willing them to change. I had to go shortly after, as they were restricting his visitors to try and calm him down.
I think mum could tell I was upset that night, so she took me out for dinner to a Japanese restaurant. I do love Japanese food. Mum and I talked. I asked her if she was worried, and she said she was, but there was no use getting upset about it. He was in the best possible place. My mum really was amazing during all of this. Not only was she dealing with dad being so sick, but she was keeping my sisters, not to mention my aunts and uncles up to date with every little change dad's condition.
On his third day in CCU, dad was looking better. He was in and out of sleep mostly, but was happy to see me. His vitals were down to a more reasonable level. I only stayed for a short time then.
The following day, dad was really happy to see me. I didn't stay long that afternoon, as visitors were limited, but dad asked if I could come back that evening. I did that, sitting by dad's bedside for several hours, talking to him. At some point my aunt came in to see dad on her way home from the city. We both chatted to dad, and then left together when he finally went to sleep. I haven't really spoken much with my aunt for a long time, so it was nice to talk to her on the way back to the carpark. She was worried about dad, but apparently not as much as my other aunt.
On Monday, dad was agitated for some reason. He was talking and somewhat alert, but he didn't know where he was. I suspect it was the morphine he was on. For a while he thought he was at the bank, and even thought the doctor was the bank manager (which made the nurses giggle). He kept asking mum and I to show him out and kept saying that he was ready to go. He was not happy when we told him we couldn't. He started to tell us off in his usual gruff voice. I can't really explain it, but something about it made mum and I start to laugh (I think it was because we could see dad coming back to his old self). He was not happy at that, and told us so, which just made it worse. Somehow, finding some humour in that place made everything ok.
Over the next couple of days, dad was still in critical care but was allowed to sit in a chair, eat real food, and progressively have his various leads and IV tubes removed. Then they decided to move him down to a general ward. Dad was eager to get home, but he was told quite plainly that noone goes straight from critical care to being able to walk out of the hospital. Although he was much better, he still wasn't the best. Simply walking to the bathroom was enough to leave him exhausted.
Dad's room was busier over the next few days, since the new ward didn't have the visitor restrictions that CCU did. Every time I went in, my aunts or uncles were usually there. I did manage to find time to talk with dad. We spent a lot of time discussing what was going to happen when he got out.
After nearly a week in the general ward, dad was allowed home. To say that having him home was a relief is an understatement. Things seemed to return to some degree of normality, but at the same time there were some huge changes. This whole event has scared my father into giving up smoking. Not that he hasn't tried before. He has tried patches and various gums with no success, but I think this realisation of his own mortality has given him the will to finally do it. I know I will never forget the fear I saw in his eyes that day, and I will be sure to remind him of it if I ever see him touch another cigarette.
EDIT: I don't know why, but it seems to be getting longer and longer between these updates. I write them down offline, but I never seem to get a chance to post them here when I would like. As before, I have dated this post to give people a better idea of the timeframe it all took place in. Since this all happened, dad has made big improvements, which is making everyone happy. Anyway, sorry for not keeping this as up to date as I should. :(
When I returned to NZ, my mum and my sister picked me up at the airport. Dad had stayed at home because he wasn't feeling the best. My dad does have a few health problems, so this wasn't really anything new. Anyway, he was really happy to see me when I got back. He asked lots of questions about the trip (not to mention about thevixen).
For a couple of days I stayed with my parents before moving over to my little sister's place. She had been looking after my cat, Pepper. She left for Sacramento, to see my older sister, a couple of days after that. I made regular trips to my parent's place each day, mainly to use the net (since there was no access at my sister's place). During this time, my dad developed a nasty cough (nastier than normal considering he was a smoker). He went to the doctor, who diagnosed a chest infection and gave him antibiotics.
On Wednesday night, about a week after my little sister left, I had a phone call from mum: "Dad is complaining of chest pains. I've called an ambulance." I drove across Auckland FAST, and arrived about 5 minutes after the ambulance did. Dad wasn't good. They had him hooked to an ECG, but the readings did show it wasn't a heart attack. Since my dad has heart problems, I instantly thought that when mum called. Despite the small relief, there was still something seriously wrong with him (one of the paramedics mentioned pulmonary oedema).
We arrived at the hospital around 10:30pm. Dad was quite agitated and kept trying to get up even though he was fighting to breathe. They gave him nebulizers, morphine and antibiotics. It was around 4:30am when mum and I left the emergency department. They still weren't happy about moving him, so it was a few more hours before the decision was made to put him in the Critical Care Unit.
When you're sick, Critical Care is the best place to be. The ward is quite open plan, although each bed has it's own space and each patient has their own nurse 24 hours a day. Dad was looking a bit better when I saw him there. He was still obviously unwell, and was still having trouble breathing, but he was looking better and talking with us. The doctor pulled us aside and told us in general terms what was wrong. That was a reality check. He said he had classic early signs of emphysema (from around 40 years of smoking), which had made the chest infection worse. On top of that, the extra fluids from the infection were putting him in a state of congestive heart failure.
The next day (Friday) I had a call from mum (she always went in to the hospital before me) to say that dad was looking better and they were going to move him to a general ward. I'm not quite sure what happened, but when I arrived I saw my aunt and two of my uncles standing outside the ward looking upset. When I went in, Dad looked awful. He was in a state of panic. His heart rate was up around 140, his oxygen saturation was low, and he was fighting hard to breathe. I held his hand, and that is when he told me he was scared. I could see it in his eyes. I couldn't do anything except hold his hand. I kept looking between him and the monitors, almost willing them to change. I had to go shortly after, as they were restricting his visitors to try and calm him down.
I think mum could tell I was upset that night, so she took me out for dinner to a Japanese restaurant. I do love Japanese food. Mum and I talked. I asked her if she was worried, and she said she was, but there was no use getting upset about it. He was in the best possible place. My mum really was amazing during all of this. Not only was she dealing with dad being so sick, but she was keeping my sisters, not to mention my aunts and uncles up to date with every little change dad's condition.
On his third day in CCU, dad was looking better. He was in and out of sleep mostly, but was happy to see me. His vitals were down to a more reasonable level. I only stayed for a short time then.
The following day, dad was really happy to see me. I didn't stay long that afternoon, as visitors were limited, but dad asked if I could come back that evening. I did that, sitting by dad's bedside for several hours, talking to him. At some point my aunt came in to see dad on her way home from the city. We both chatted to dad, and then left together when he finally went to sleep. I haven't really spoken much with my aunt for a long time, so it was nice to talk to her on the way back to the carpark. She was worried about dad, but apparently not as much as my other aunt.
On Monday, dad was agitated for some reason. He was talking and somewhat alert, but he didn't know where he was. I suspect it was the morphine he was on. For a while he thought he was at the bank, and even thought the doctor was the bank manager (which made the nurses giggle). He kept asking mum and I to show him out and kept saying that he was ready to go. He was not happy when we told him we couldn't. He started to tell us off in his usual gruff voice. I can't really explain it, but something about it made mum and I start to laugh (I think it was because we could see dad coming back to his old self). He was not happy at that, and told us so, which just made it worse. Somehow, finding some humour in that place made everything ok.
Over the next couple of days, dad was still in critical care but was allowed to sit in a chair, eat real food, and progressively have his various leads and IV tubes removed. Then they decided to move him down to a general ward. Dad was eager to get home, but he was told quite plainly that noone goes straight from critical care to being able to walk out of the hospital. Although he was much better, he still wasn't the best. Simply walking to the bathroom was enough to leave him exhausted.
Dad's room was busier over the next few days, since the new ward didn't have the visitor restrictions that CCU did. Every time I went in, my aunts or uncles were usually there. I did manage to find time to talk with dad. We spent a lot of time discussing what was going to happen when he got out.
After nearly a week in the general ward, dad was allowed home. To say that having him home was a relief is an understatement. Things seemed to return to some degree of normality, but at the same time there were some huge changes. This whole event has scared my father into giving up smoking. Not that he hasn't tried before. He has tried patches and various gums with no success, but I think this realisation of his own mortality has given him the will to finally do it. I know I will never forget the fear I saw in his eyes that day, and I will be sure to remind him of it if I ever see him touch another cigarette.
EDIT: I don't know why, but it seems to be getting longer and longer between these updates. I write them down offline, but I never seem to get a chance to post them here when I would like. As before, I have dated this post to give people a better idea of the timeframe it all took place in. Since this all happened, dad has made big improvements, which is making everyone happy. Anyway, sorry for not keeping this as up to date as I should. :(