So, my father is in the hospital. He is in critical condition. He is stable, but still critical. I was not sure if I would blog about this subject. It is not a subject that is very entertaining, so if you don’t want to continue reading, I understand. I am not exactly sure why I am writing about it, but I feel like I need to write about it. It is kind of … cathartic.
I am going to label this as my first real crisis. I have led a rather … I don’t know if sheltered is the correct word, but I can say that there have not been too many problems in my life that I felt I couldn’t fix. Under most circumstances, given enough time, I think I can fix anything. That is amazingly egotistical on my part, but I think if you knew me, you would probably agree. Probably on both parts, the egotistical and the fix anything. I figure if you are going to have an ego, at least back it up, right?
I called my father on Father’s Day, but he did not answer. A little while later, his wife sent me a text to indicate that the paramedics had taken him to the hospital. I had no major reaction to the text. After all, it was just a text. My father has no medical history that I am aware of, as matter of fact, I don’t even think he has ever been sick, at least to my knowledge. His RN even stated yesterday that he has no medical history to explain his current state. But that’s my Dad, or Ron as I call him (I call my biological father by his first name, to do otherwise feels weird. I have no explanation for you at this moment, but it is probably not for the reason that you think).
Ron is not a complainer. My father could get into a car accident, have his leg chopped off, and hop to work. “Hey Ron, I think there is something wrong with your leg.” He’d say, “It’s alright, let me finish my work and I’ll drive to the hospital later.” Someone would say, “But your leg is chopped off.” He’d reply, “It’s just the left one, I can still drive.” That’s my father, no exaggeration. This is the same man who called converting a one-story house into a two-story house a side project. That’s how I spent my summers in junior high, building a house. No, I am not exaggerating. Just in case you are wondering, I left out the “It’s just a flesh wound” quote out on purpose. It’s over used, and if you said it while reading this, you are a nerd. Sorry, had to be said.
It’s weird seeing my father in this condition. It is very surreal. When I walked into his room, seeing all those hanging bags, tubes, and frail body, it was like I became a little boy. Why is he like that? What am I seeing? Someone needs to fix this. I just wanted to leave the room. I didn’t leave the room, but I couldn’t stop thinking, it was just a text. How did we go from a text to this? It was as if I watching myself, but as a little boy, scared and confused. It was a very uncomfortable situation, but then I did what I know how to do; it is time to fix this. I wanted to know about every detail that led us to this place. I talked with my step-mother. I talked to the nurse. I examined every bag that was hanging on a hook. I looked at his blinking screen and was thankful that my brain understood the acronyms and curvy lines. I asked every question I could think of, and any word that was spoken that I did not completely understand, I filed it away in my brain to study later. I spent half the night reading about every medical condition that could be related. In order to cope, I became House.
Obviously, I did not have any “A-Ha” moments last night. Mostly a lack of sleep and trying not to think about my father’s current situation. It would be cool if I could talk to the doctors, and say, based on my analysis of the situation, this is what’s going on. Give him 15 cc’s of blah-blah-blah and watch the magic happen. That would be awesome, but unfortunately, this is not a TV show. I finally did fall asleep last night. I awoke with no revelations. I cried. That seemed the right thing to do, and then decided to write this blog.
If you believe in God, I would appreciate your prayers. If you don’t believe, than I appreciate your support. If anyone can beat this thing, it is Ron. I will probably continue my reading about his medical condition. I will continue to ask questions. I will continue to try to “fix” this situation, because that is who I am, but one thing is for sure, I am no House.
If you are still here, thanks for reading. I’m just sayin’ …