Hanging On

On Thursday we were told that Dad was dying and that it was likely he would go within a couple of hours. We said our farewells, laughed and cried, and prepared ourselves to see Dad slip away from us.
He didn't.
On he goes.


Yesterday, we were moved out of the noisy windowless fishbowl in ICU and given a small private room on another floor. With a window!! We have our own washroom - no more leaving the unit for the only shared washroom on the floor! And we even have an extra bed so someone can stay overnight (better than the chair I slept in on Thurs night!).
It's almost like we're staying at the Hyatt! Without the room service and chocolates on the pillow.


So today, with all this privacy, we've brought
music in with us and are singing for Dad. He's kind of a captive audience, not being able to move, but I suspect that he's enjoying it.
If not, he's being awfully gracious about it. Typical Dad!

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

Today in ICU

Hospital life can be surreal. We are in a double room with no outside windows, so it could be midnight and blizzarding outside, and we wouldn't be aware of it.
Despite the emotional strain, we are still able to enjoy each other. This morning, we celebrated when Lea rolled up the rim of her Tim Horton's cup (it's a Canadian thing...) and won a doughnut! Too bad it wasn't the car.








Last night we were all here gathered around Dad's bed and had a sweet time singing together. It looked like he was enjoying it deep in the depths of the morphine haze.








I've been more emotional today as Dad labours to breathe. It's not so much sadness though, but rather, a full heart that overflows. I'm so very thankful for the goodness in my life that has come from Dad, and it is making me cry.
What richness I have known. Thank you, God, for this wonderful man!

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

The View From the Bed

Here we are, back in the ICU, this time in Surrey. Just a bit closer to home. Same ventilator, same monitors, same sedation, same feelings of sadness and wondering. Different nurses. And not such a nice unit; a shared room, no privacy. At all.
It's kind of frustrating, to say the least.
Back again, walking down the same road.
This is what Dad would see from his bed if he could open his eyes and drag himself back to consciousness.



Legs under the sheet, all wrapped up in air-filled pressure cuffs, with cold feet at the end. And a very dedicated and loving son-in-law who has spent lots of time by his bed. The nurse is just outside the window, always watching (okay, maybe she wasn't there when I took the photo...).
The respirator is hissing and the family on the other side of the room is chattering; there are people in and out all the time.
Back again and not happy about it...

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

The Sweetness

Happy Valentine's Day!The sugar was everywhere today; in the staffroom, in the classroom, and in the children's valentine bags full of cards and treats. My little students spread the love with enthusiasm and excitement!

And then I trekked out to the hospital. We'd thought we were done with that.

Poor Dad is delirious. He can't put more than a couple of words together, if that. Can't follow instructions or answer questions. Doesn't know where he is. And the doctors can't figure out what's causing it.

His feet hang over the end of the narrow emergency room bed, where he is now spending his second consecutive night and his third in the past week. It's noisy and busy outside the thin curtain. And it's hard to know if the nurses remember to check on him regularly.

But one thing is certain: his sweet smile is better than all the Valentine's Day treats. It lit up the room and crinkled his eyes when I walked in, and every time he woke up from a nap, he shared it with us.

He might not be able to say our names, but I know that he knows, deep down inside.

Happy Valentine's Day to my wonderful dad, lying by himself tonight in the ER.