Author: Emily

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Deep Breaths (aka THE TUBE)

I promised an update on how my Dad’s been doing, so here goes.

Dad’s still in the ICU hooked up the respirator. They’ve had him sedated for the past couple of days because he kept trying to take the breathing tube (aka “THE TUBE”) out of his mouth. He absolutely HATES that tube. It was the first thing he talked about when he finally got his voice back after the first time he was on the respirator right after surgery. So when he was having difficulty breathing last Thursday night and THE TUBE be had to be put back down, he was not too happy about it.

But what’s ten times worse, is not being able to breathe.

Yesterday, they tried to wean him off the respirator and took THE TUBE out a little too soon. Clinically, he looked good. His lab studies were picture perfect and his oxygen saturation (O2 sat) was doing well. That’s all fine and dandy, but since my Dad has a long-standing love affair with nicotine, sometimes “picture perfect” for non-smokers is not as “picture perfect” for smokers. Despite the fact that both my Dad’s nurse and us (my brother & I) thinking it was better to give him an extra night of rest, the ICU doctor felt otherwise. So THE TUBE came out.

And sure enough, within minutes his O2 sat dropped, he started gasping for breath, and he became more and more agitated. The ICU resident chalked this up to him being “anxious,” but when I started seeing my Dad’s eyes glaze over, I told her otherwise. And well, let’s just say that my brother (also known as “The Doctor” as he’s currently in his 5th year of residency for Orthopedic Surgery) was not AT ALL happy about what transpired. Within a half an hour, THE TUBE went back in. And now, to top it off … it appears that he’s got a bit of pneumonia in his lower lungs. Yet another thing to set his progress back.

And while Dad wasn’t too happy about having to be “intubated” (medical-ese for “placing the breathing tube”) for the THIRD TIME, I think he was just happy to be able to feel like he could breathe.

So today, Dad’s doing better. He still hates THE TUBE, but he’s come to accept it. For now. And they’ve started him on IV antibiotics to help fight the pneumonia. And the nurses and RTs (respiratory therapists) have been aggressive at doing lung treatments to help get rid of any fluid that may continue to linger in his lungs. The plan is to try to wean him off the respirator slowly and as soon as he’s able to breathe without any help, THE TUBE will come out.

I know I’ve said this time and time again over the past two weeks now, but THANK YOU for all your thoughts and well-wishes. If you can continue to keep my Dad in your daily thoughts and prayers, I will forever be grateful to you.

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Blogiversary

Thanks AGAIN for everyone’s well wishes for my Dad’s speedy recovery. I am so incredibly grateful for all the blove (blog love) I’ve received. I will update you on my Dad’s condition in another post, but today I figured I’d blog about something else.

I just got done reading BabyBound‘s latest post, and it reminded me that a year ago this month is when I started blogging. Okay, so officially it’s not until March 17th but … whatever.

Anyhoo … the reason BabyBound’s post reminded me of my blogiversary was because she was talking about the reason why she started her blog. And what has transpired (or hasn’t transpired) since taking a break from fertility treatments.

For me, the reason I started this blog was to find an outlet to express how frustrated I was with my infertility. At this time last year, I was going through quite a bit of angst and frustration. Shall we recap? Yeah, why not.

  1. Mid-March would be the 3rd anniversary of my one (and only) failed attempt at IVF. Since then, I had not done anything active to pursue further infertility treatments. Nor was I moving forward in any direction towards adoption. It terrified me to move forward (and in some ways, it still does today).
  2. My SIL, who had just gotten remarried less than a year ago at that time, was already 5 months pregnant. And, of course, after trying for well-over 10 years to start our own family, I fell into a deep dark abyss of feeling like shit.
  3. Same SIL found out just two weeks prior that her baby was showing signs of abnormalities (US was indicative of a cleft lip and omphalocele) and of course, I was feeling guilty that I probably caused it by all my horrible feelings of jealousy and anger.
  4. The slimmest of slim possibilities of a quick and painless Philippine adoption was quickly and ceremoniously stripped away. (Come to think of it, I don’t think I even blogged about that. Hmmm … maybe a post for another time.)

So yeah … I think I had enough to vent about and just had to find an outlet for it all. And hence, Apron Strings for Emily was born.

A year later, I’m still writing. And I’ve enjoyed writing. It’s given me an opportunity to share and exchange information and emotions with people that I’ve never met IRL (in real life). And even those IRL people that do read my blog, it’s an opportunity for them to read exactly what I’m going through. Because in my real life, I’m not good at showing my real emotions.

And a year later, this is what’s going on in relation to the above-mentioned recaps:

  1. Yep; it will be the 4th anniversary of our IVF attempt. I’m still saddened by it, but the grief has lessened considerably since last year. I still have no desire to pursue any further IF treatments, but instead am now dealing with the return of some unfriendly and unwanted GYN issues.
  2. My SIL remained pregnant and in May (at 31 weeks), prematurely delivered Liam. In his short life (he lived only 4 months), he touched all of our lives with his beautiful eyes and incredible strength.
  3. Same SIL announced this past January that she is once again pregnant (and due in August). Yes, it still hurts. No I didn’t fall into that abyss again. I’m dealing with it the best I can , which is to accept it for what it is. I do have to add that this time around, SIL has been wonderfully conscious about how her pregnancy affects me … and for that I am grateful.
  4. Adoption. Yes, this is our next step and I’m actively taking baby steps to get there. I’m still quite overwhelmed, but taking even just these little steps is more than I have taken in the four years since our failed IVF.

So, if you’ve kept reading to the end of this post … I applaud you. And I thank you. Thanks for being the ears (or in this case, the eyes) that I’ve needed to get past the most difficult times in my life this past year. I’ve learned that I am not alone in feeling the way I do. I’ve learned that others also share the same warmth, compassion and empathy that I have. I’ve learned that I am a much stronger person that I give myself credit for. I’ve learned that my husband continues to be and will always be my best friend in the world. And I’ve learned that blogging is therapeutic for my soul.

Happy Blogiversary to me!!

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Up In Smoke

I wish I could write something a little more profound and exciting. But the fact is, I can’t. After two days of being in the stepdown unit, Dad’s back in the ICU and on the respirator.

Kids, this is a great reason why smoking a pack per day for over 25 40 50 years is never a good thing.

I finally broke down and cried this morning. I think it’s been building up for the past week now. Pure exhaustion, plus frustration with feeling like no one (especially me) is doing enough to make my Dad better finally got the best of me. That, and once again seeing my Dad looking so small in his bed, attached to all sorts of IV’s and tubes.

I wish I could make all this go away.

And poof! That dream just went up in smoke.

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Mended Hearts

Whew. It’s been a pretty tiring couple of days. Thank you for all your well-wishes and prayers … I really do appreciate all your support and I know for certain that my parents and the rest of my family do, too.

So what happened after the cardiac cath? Well, my Dad finally realized the extent of his smoking and fatty diet. The short end of it is that he was diagnosed with quadruple-vessel heart disease. Unfortunately because of his history of smoking and high cholesterol, along with diabetes and kidney disease, they weren’t able to do angioplasty or any other sort of “interventional” procedures. So the only other option was to have open-heart bypass surgery. For those in the medical profession, it’s known as CABG with LIMA. (On a funny note, my mom kept saying, “What’s this food surgery? Sounds like ‘cabbage with lima beans?'”)

Well, today at 3:15 pm was his surgery. And after what seemed like an eternity of sitting in the waiting room (in reality, it was approximately 6 hours), the surgeon came out to tell us that his surgery went well. And in about an hour, we were able to go in to visit him in the surgical ICU (SICU). He was still asleep from the anesthesia, but I was overall surprised that his color looked good. His blood pressure was a little low, but within 5 minutes of us being there, it seemed to have stabilized. We were told by his nurse that if anything were to happen, they would typically happen within the next 6 to 8 hours.

As he sat in the hospital bed, I couldn’t help but suddenly realize how small he looked. This is the guy that used to pick me up and throw me over his shoulders. This is the man who used to let me climb up his legs to let me do flips. The same person who, on my wedding day, walked me down the aisle alongside my Mom. I think I flashed through every single memory I had of him during that first moment of seeing him in the SICU. And finally, the weight of his surgery, hit me. The task of just getting through the surgery was so ginormous, that I believe I tucked away all those emotions. And now they’re just surfacing. When we got home tonite, I couldn’t help but hug Hubby a little tighter and (finally) let a couple of tears loose. But I know that by morning, I’ll tuck those emotions all away and be as strong and steady as the bull-headed person I can be. At least in front of my Dad.

For my Mom’s sake, I asked whether family could spend the night. As I expected, we were told that we certainly can but would have to sleep in the waiting room. Since I literally live about 4 blocks from the hospital, I offered to let her stay at our house, but she wouldn’t hear of it. She also insisted we go home, as Hubby was still a bit sick and well … unfortunately, I seemed to have gotten his nasty cold. So instead, without much more for us to do, we went home. But not without making sure my Dad’s nurse had my phone number on hand to call us if anything should happen. Hubby & I finally got home around 10:30 tonite and I know I’ll definitely be back first thing tomorrow morning at 10 am when visiting hours start.

And before I wrap this up (because believe me, I’m mentally and physically exhausted here) I have to say this … My family has been totally blessed with any of the staff that we’ve encountered at this hospital. When my Dad was in the cardiac cath post-procedure area, my brother and I ran into a brother/sister team that we both knew since GRADE SCHOOL. They are both RN’s in that area, and the sister was in my brother’s class, while the brother was in mine. What are the chances of THAT happening? The best part was that the sister was a Clinical Nurse Specialist, who was able to explain things in greater detail (while using less medical terms) to my Mom. And this morning, while in the pre-op area, I ran into a high school friend of mine that was also an RN in that area; while my brother ran into an OR tech that knew our family since my brother and I were in grade school. I believe they were the reason that our whole family and extended family got to be around Dad in the pre-op area, as typically they don’t allow more than two people at a time back there. And finally, I think God blessed us with providing my Dad with great Filipino RN’s both in the CPCU (stepdown unit) and the SICU; both of which I know is a great source of comfort for my parents.

So with all this said (or typed), I think I better sleep now before I get any more loopy. Again, thank you Thank You THANK YOU for all your blove (blog-love) sent this way. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate it. Big HUGS to you ALL!

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Caring for the Heart

So it’s a go. Cardiac cath is scheduled at noon for my Dad today. I’m just hoping that everything will go smoothly and all the docs and nurses and anyone that takes care of him today do the best job that they can.

Ugh. I’m feeling so frustrated right now. Mostly because there is only so much I can do for my Dad at this moment other than just be there for him. The nurse in me wants to do more to help him but yet I don’t want to overstep my boundaries. Because believe me, when working the floors I absolutely HATED when visiting family members pulled out the “I’m a doctor”- or “I’m a nurse”- card, thinking that was going to scare me into making “triple”-sure I was doing the absolute correct thing.

But other than unrealistically flying Dad out to the best cardiology center in the US, I do have faith and confidence that he is getting the best treatment possible at this hospital at this exact time. The best I can do as a nurse is be there to explain to my Dad and Mom exactly what is going on and what to expect … basically be there to translate medical jargon into plain old-fashion English. That, and advocate for them exactly what their fears and concerns and needs are as a patient and his wife.

At the same time, poor Hubby has also been sick with a nasty cold. Which, if there was only more hours in the day, I would be babying him like he does for me when I’m sick. Unfortunately with yesterday being spent at the hospital, I’ve had no time to make him soup or hot tea and just generally be there for him. And I feel like such a horrible wife for that.

I bet y’all are saying … “WTF, Em? You advocate and care for your parents and Hubby, but you don’t advocate for yourself.” The past week (and previous posts) being prime example of not thinking of what’s the best thing for my own health.

Well, I have to tell you … and if you don’t know this by now … Nurses are notorious for not taking care of their own health. I think it’s in any person who chooses Nursing as a profession to care for others before caring for themselves. For me it’s not meant to be a self-sacrifice type of thing; it’s more that I feel that others needs appear to be more important and more urgent than my own. Then throw in the whole Catholic and Asian-American thing and it’s a golden opportunity for feeling the guilt.

Yes, I know it’s not always healthy. And I know that I do need to take care for myself before I can take care of anyone else. Every nurse gives that same schpiel to any of their co-workers (how’s that for the pot calling the kettle black?). But we’re a stubborn lot. We’re definitely a “Do as I say, not as I do” group.

I’m working on it though. This past year has been an exercise of learning to take care of myself. And think of my needs as a priority to others. I’m learning to say NO when I can’t take on anymore than I physically or emotional can. And I’m trying my darndest NOT to feel so damn guilty for doing so.

Right now? All my energy is focused on taking care of my Dad. Because that takes priority. Thanks for all your warm thoughts and prayers.

And if you can, say a quick one for Hubby, too. Because, he too, deserves the best.