An Update on Dear Old Dad

Originally posted on http://digitaldiatribes.wordpress.com on April 9, 2007.

Well, it’s been a few days again.  For those of you kind enough to have said a few prayers for good old Dad, let me keep you apprised of the situation.

Going back to the day after surgery, and the unsettling visit to ICU, I can happily report that he looked much better less than 24 hours after surgery.  Now, by “much better” this is probably like saying a yellow blotch on my son’s white T-shirt looks much better than a dark brown blotch on a white T-shirt.  It’s all relative.  But keeping in mind the guy just had major surgery, the following was all welcome news: moving out of ICU the following morning, conversing, very short walk, eating a little food.

But I’d like to share with you some of the explanation we received on the whole process that may help those of you out who will someday experience visiting a loved one after heart surgery.  I wish the surgery on nobody, and I wish such a visit on no family, but reality says that it will happen to many of us.

When they start to cut into the chest, the body reacts by going into shock.  This is the body’s natural protection mechanism.  What happens is that the blood pressure lowers dramatically.   Well, we don’t want that during surgery, so this is combated by pumping fluid into the body.  We were told that some people can receive up to 30 pounds of fluid.  On average, 10-15 pounds is required.  Well, this works great for surgery, but there’s this little issue with after the surgery, and where the fluid is going to settle.  The fluid looks for open spots.  The lungs are one such spot.  In order to make sure that the lungs do not fill up, the patient is asked to use this little device where they blow into, to keep the lungs working properly and filled with air.  In addition, the patients are encouraged to cough as much as they can handle it to keep the lungs clear.   What they do to help the fluid get eliminated is they put tubes around the heart.  This creates a larger-than-normal space.  This encourages fluid to settle around the heart as it looks for a place to go.  But the fluid won’t stay there because the tubes are there and so it drains out of the body.  Also, one reason the bandages on the legs look as bad as they do is because fluid is being eliminated through the cuts.  It looks like blood, but while there is blood mixed in, it is actually mostly fluid.   And this is why Dad looked so weird to us after surgery.  We were seeing him all “puffed up” before much fluid had drained.  This also explains why there is a liquid restriction in the day or two afterward.

Dad had a couple long days, and has had a couple of setbacks, unfortunately.  The positive is that he continues to get stronger, but he wasn’t rebounding as they had hoped two days after surgery.  He had a blood transfusion that helped him, though, and all seemed back on track.  We saw him again on Good Friday and he had a pretty good day, and the expectation was that he would go back home on Saturday.

Unfortunately, he had some bleeding on Saturday that may be related to old ulcer problems.  Dad used to have a difficult time with ulcers, but underwent treatment using antibiotics  years ago.  He never had any problems since then, and so the doctors didn’t feel there was a concern with regard to his being on blood thinners.  (Due to the mechanical valve they put in his heart, it requires he take an anticoagulant).  We are still waiting to see if this is a more serious problem or not.  They have taken him off of aspirin, and are only taking him off the blood thinner for one day before he needs to go back on.  

In addition, on Easter Sunday his heart went out of rhythm, and now he’s back on IVs.  The good news is that he is feeling OK and is getting stronger – these problems are not affecting his recovery in that regard, but it does mean he can’t go home.  I know he is really looking forward to his recliner!

We are keeping Dad in our prayers, and still anticipate a full recovery.

Reflections of the Heart

Originally posted at http://digitaldiatribes.wordpress.com on April 3, 2007.

Reflecting on yesterday is an important thing.  We all know and understand that it is crucial that we plan for the future.  Preparation, an attitude of “looking ahead, not behind” is a driver of most very sucessful people.

To the extent that looking back means “living in the past” by not being able to get past mistakes out of your head, or living a life of regret for past decisions, etc. then looking back is not always a healthy thing.  

But sometimes I think we dismiss the value of an honest reflection of past events.  We learn from history (or we should learn, anyway) not only on a global scale, or a national scope, but also on a personal level.  What good are mistakes if we don’t learn from them?  We do not always realize we’ve made mistakes until some time passes, and if we never look back to see how we got from Point A to Point B, then we may not like the way Point C looks when we get there.  

But looking back is not just an exercise in learning from mistakes.  It is also a valuable reflection.  There are days that are, in fact, much better understood when you look back at them and put them in context than when you are actually going through them.

I had such a day yesterday.  My dad had four bypasses and a valve replacement.  It was a planned procedure, and we thank God that he did not have a heart attack.  He had felt some pain and pressure lately and also shortness of breath.  We knew he was going in on Monday, and so all the family came up this last weekend.  Between this and other things, this explains my mini-absence from blogging lately.  He is not the first to undergo such a procedure, and he will not be the last.  We often hear that this has become “routine,” and the chances of coming through this with flying colors is much better today than it was even a few years ago.

Of course, perspectives often change when someone you love dearly is going through it.  I have known other people who have had their loved ones go through this, and it’s been easy for me to, in my wisdom, point out how great the chances are of a full recovery.   Now it’s my dad, and while I know this is the case, it was little comfort as I saw him in the ICU with tubes sticking everywhere, a tube down his throat, his leg bandaged where they removed his veins, and looking pale and waxy.   The most troubling thing for the rest of my family is that we were not properly prepared for what we would see in that room.  We knew about the tubes and all, but his coloring and skin texture was not much different from what you see in a casket.

It’s tough seeing “Superman” like that.  And I’d be lying if I said I had no doubt that it was the right thing to do to have surgery.   It probably was, though I have a hard time being completely convinced.  But that is neither here nor there at this point.  It’s done, and that discussion now falls under the category of looking ahead, and not back.

Anyway, the reason I reflect on yesterday now is because moments like this bring to mind any number of emotions which I would qualify as being in the “negative” area:  sadness, doubt, fear, exhaustion, pain, etc.   Those will hang on for a while as dad recovers and will have some rough days ahead of him.  But with a day to look back, there are also some other things that come to mind:  thankfulness for his life;  memories; a reminder of our mortality; lessons (should I change my own habits?  The answer is yes…); family (my sister pointed out that it was the first time in years that the four siblings were together without our spouses or kids.  Waiting out the seven hours definitely allowed for some good conversation and brouoght us closer together.)

I can even look back and laugh a little bit at a couple of things from the day.  After visiting dad in the ICU (he was still out of it at that time) we decided to get out of the hospital for a bit and eat dinner at Perkins Restaurant.  It wasn’t the happiest of meals, but we did OK.  My older sister, Cyndi, took a restroom break, and was crying when she got back to the table.  I hugged her and told her to hang in there.  She responded “I was fine until I saw the pie.”   My dad is known to often finish up his meal and blurt out “Pie!” as his way of expressing that he sure wished he had some pie for dessert.  I told her, “OK, now that’s funny.”

I type this up not even a day removed from the end of his surgery, and the news is great.  He has already been moved out of ICU and has visited with some members of the family.  I have not been to see him yet but will be doing so in a couple hours.

We are praying that all continues to go well.  We welcome any and all prayers.  And from now on, I am sure I will have more empathy for those families going through the same thing.