Wow! The last week is a blur of driving, worrying, imagining the worst, and hoping for the best.
I spent 12 hours driving in 5 days. Ugh! Man, I don't know how people spend months going back and forth to hospitals. It's frickin' exhausting!
Well, Wednesday, when I wrote my last post, he was really out of it and couldn't really talk because of the breathing tube (they really mes your throat up) and I'm sure was overwhelmed. The doctors just did not sound positive--like if he survived he'd have terrible brain damage. We went home mid afternoon because hew was so out of it, he just needed to rest and there was nothing we could do. We came home and checked on the house and then went home. After running on adrenaline and 3 hours of sleep, we needed rest!
We slept in a little bit Thursday and had to run a few errands. As we were about ready to head to Iowa City I got a phone call from a doctor requesting consent to do the surgery on Friday. I thought that must be good news, but mom wasn't sure. Well, we headed down and dad was sitting up and talking (he still sounded like an old lady who'd be smoking for 40 years because of the tube) and I think he was really overwhelmed by the whole situation. Lots of emotions crossed his face, but I think he also came to understand how serious the situation was and that this was really the only option.
We stayed till 7 when we left to check into a cheap motel. He was scheduled to have surgery at 7:15 Friday morning, so we wanted to be there before he went. We ordered Papa John's pizza (dad's room was in the John Pappajohn center at the hospital, and due to stress and lack of sleep, it was really funny to me to be eating Papa John's pizza...) and painted our toenails before crashing.
It was the worst night of sleep. EVER. The mattress was so hard...I felt awful the next day. Anyway, we got to the hospital at 6:15 and sat with him. An emergency came in and they ended up not taking him to surgery until about 11:20. We sat in the waiting room, exhausted, listening to some really annoying people. I was not the happiest of campers. At 4:45 we were just starting to get worried and the doctor came in and said that he was fine and back in his room.
Apparently the cyst was larger than they expected and they couldn't get all of it out, but they got most of it. The doctor said he came through the surgery very well. He didn't want to wake up at all, so about 6:30 we headed home. I have never been so happy to be in my own bed! Saturday we got there about 1:30 or 2:00 and he was still pretty much out. They said he didn't come out of the anesthesia until midnight the night before. Well, after about two hours we thought it was silly to just sit there, so we called a friend and met for supper at Coral Ridge Mall.
Sunday we went down and he was out of the ICU and in the regular neurosurgery ward. He was more alert, but not really with it. I know he was sad that we had to leave after just a couple hours, but we were both exhausted and had to work Monday.
We called him briefly Monday night and then Tuesday my uncle came over to fix the door frames which the police busted. We ended up taking him home around 3:00 and after we dropped him off, we hopped down to the hospital. (He lives about half an hour away.) We weren't going to go back until today, but it's a good thing we went yesterday because a gentleman from Mary Greeley came to talk to him about rehab. Today dad didn't remember much of the conversation, so it's good I could say that we had talked about it last night and he, mom and I had decided it was the best course of action.
So, this morning at 11:00 a.m. they were transporting him to Mary Greeley. Now it will only be a half hour drive to go see him.
Much relief.
Is it bad that now that the panic is over I am feeling slightly sorry for myself? I just keep thinking it's crappy that I don't have someone to come home to to make it better. I mean I have mom, but it's not the same as coming home to a spouse or partner and having someone to hold you and love you. I'm just tired of going through all this rough sh*t by myself. Ok, end of pity party. I really am so glad dad is ok.
I spent 12 hours driving in 5 days. Ugh! Man, I don't know how people spend months going back and forth to hospitals. It's frickin' exhausting!
Well, Wednesday, when I wrote my last post, he was really out of it and couldn't really talk because of the breathing tube (they really mes your throat up) and I'm sure was overwhelmed. The doctors just did not sound positive--like if he survived he'd have terrible brain damage. We went home mid afternoon because hew was so out of it, he just needed to rest and there was nothing we could do. We came home and checked on the house and then went home. After running on adrenaline and 3 hours of sleep, we needed rest!
We slept in a little bit Thursday and had to run a few errands. As we were about ready to head to Iowa City I got a phone call from a doctor requesting consent to do the surgery on Friday. I thought that must be good news, but mom wasn't sure. Well, we headed down and dad was sitting up and talking (he still sounded like an old lady who'd be smoking for 40 years because of the tube) and I think he was really overwhelmed by the whole situation. Lots of emotions crossed his face, but I think he also came to understand how serious the situation was and that this was really the only option.
We stayed till 7 when we left to check into a cheap motel. He was scheduled to have surgery at 7:15 Friday morning, so we wanted to be there before he went. We ordered Papa John's pizza (dad's room was in the John Pappajohn center at the hospital, and due to stress and lack of sleep, it was really funny to me to be eating Papa John's pizza...) and painted our toenails before crashing.
It was the worst night of sleep. EVER. The mattress was so hard...I felt awful the next day. Anyway, we got to the hospital at 6:15 and sat with him. An emergency came in and they ended up not taking him to surgery until about 11:20. We sat in the waiting room, exhausted, listening to some really annoying people. I was not the happiest of campers. At 4:45 we were just starting to get worried and the doctor came in and said that he was fine and back in his room.
Apparently the cyst was larger than they expected and they couldn't get all of it out, but they got most of it. The doctor said he came through the surgery very well. He didn't want to wake up at all, so about 6:30 we headed home. I have never been so happy to be in my own bed! Saturday we got there about 1:30 or 2:00 and he was still pretty much out. They said he didn't come out of the anesthesia until midnight the night before. Well, after about two hours we thought it was silly to just sit there, so we called a friend and met for supper at Coral Ridge Mall.
Sunday we went down and he was out of the ICU and in the regular neurosurgery ward. He was more alert, but not really with it. I know he was sad that we had to leave after just a couple hours, but we were both exhausted and had to work Monday.
We called him briefly Monday night and then Tuesday my uncle came over to fix the door frames which the police busted. We ended up taking him home around 3:00 and after we dropped him off, we hopped down to the hospital. (He lives about half an hour away.) We weren't going to go back until today, but it's a good thing we went yesterday because a gentleman from Mary Greeley came to talk to him about rehab. Today dad didn't remember much of the conversation, so it's good I could say that we had talked about it last night and he, mom and I had decided it was the best course of action.
So, this morning at 11:00 a.m. they were transporting him to Mary Greeley. Now it will only be a half hour drive to go see him.
Much relief.
Is it bad that now that the panic is over I am feeling slightly sorry for myself? I just keep thinking it's crappy that I don't have someone to come home to to make it better. I mean I have mom, but it's not the same as coming home to a spouse or partner and having someone to hold you and love you. I'm just tired of going through all this rough sh*t by myself. Ok, end of pity party. I really am so glad dad is ok.