2016, Flagler Hospital ICU
In and out
of consciousness, blood clots were doing their best to kill me. Pain from no
longer having blood flow freely through my body, was excruciating. Everything
was shutting down. Clots backed up at an IVC filter in my chest like traffic at
the Mexican border. They stretched down into my legs which were swollen to
twice their normal size and looked like they were going to split open. My
kidneys, and everything else, were blinking out, as clots populated downward.
Blocked traffic became a parking lot, no movement.
It was as if
my life was on a dimmer switch and someone was turning it down, way down, until
the light was almost out, and I had no control at all.
Although I
had always assumed that I would live into my late 80’s or 90’s as my parents
had, I was OK with the very real possibility of imminent death, but then every
three hours a nurse came in and injected a dose of morphine into my drip line.
The pain immediately drifted away as I floated above it all, untouchable.
No wonder
some people become addicted to that stuff.
Even more
comforting than the morphine though? Knowing that Carla was close by, working
in the hospital and that either Ruth or Hannah were right there in the ICU room
with me the whole time. They slept on the couch. That meant everything to me,
even though I had told them not to come. “I’m in good hands and there is
nothing more that you can do.” I said.
I was wrong.
All my life
I’ve prided myself on being independent. A rock. I didn’t want to lean on
anyone. I’ll take care of myself. It was fine for me to be the dad or husband,
in charge, caring for my family, but not the other way around.
The whole
experience changed me, opened me up. It’s been different since then. I’ve
accepted the fact that it’s a two-way street, we give and take. I took care of
them when they were young and now they can begin to return the favor. I’m fine
with that. Ruth, Hannah or Carla can share driving duties, literally and
figuratively. I’m happy to sit in the back seat. I don’t always have to be in
charge.
The girls
are beginning to understand that they’ve created a monster though. As it is
with the dogs, it can be hard to get me out of the car.
I’ve learned
that sometimes, the back seat is the most comfortable seat in the house.
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