Category: Family

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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.

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Winks Wanted

This will probably a relatively short post as I am absolutely bone tired. That would be from the total of two hours sleep I had since Wednesday morning.

Last night, around 10 pm I got a phone call from my Mom telling me she was taking my Dad to the local ER. Apparently he has been having chest pain on and off for the past two weeks, mostly when doing strenuous exercise like shoveling or jogging on his treadmill or even while bowling. But when his chest pain simply started while he was lying down at rest, he finally (?!) decided it was time to call his doctor who, of course, directed him to come to the ER.

So I met them at the hospital, which is literally blocks away from my house, and sat with Mom & Dad as he got his blood drawn and and EKG and chest x-ray done. My Dad kept on insisting it was heartburn until one of his lab tests came up elevated and his EKG showed some non-descript changes … all of which was indicating that something bad was going on with his heart. The plan was to admit him to a bed on the “Cardiac Stepdown Unit” (CPCU) and do a heart catheterization (a.k.a. “cardiac cath) to look at the arteries that supply blood and oxygen to his heart. But not before seeing the cardiologist supposedly first thing in the morning.

That was at about 1:30 this morning. And because my poor Mom was exhausted, I sent her home to sleep. I planned to stay with my Dad until he got settled in the CPCU and then come early in the morning to catch the cardiologist. But it wasn’t until 8(frickin’):15 am that he was finally in a bed, rather than the uncomfortable stretcher he was on all night in the ER. I ended up staying until we found out they weren’t going to be able to do the cardiac cath until tomorrow (due to more abnormal non-heart related bloodwork). It was at that time that I went home to catch 20 winks in two hours, only to come back and sit with Dad while my Mom was at her own doctor’s appointment.

And now … I’m finally home. I still don’t know what time his cardiac cath is tomorrow, but I know I’ll be up early at the hospital just to make sure I catch the cardiologist again. Ugh. I just hope and pray that everything goes well tomorrow.

Okay, time for hopefully more than 20 winks …

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Our (Mutt of a) Family

My coworker’s dog (JJ) has cancer. She and her husband had been treating him holistically through supplements and a special diet. JJ was doing so well on it that during his last check-up, his cancer all but disappeared. Unfortunately, he recently went in to the vet for a random visit and it was found that his cancer is back.

This is our “baby,” Yami

Naturally, my coworker and her husband were very upset. This was their child, their first dog together. They, too, weren’t able to have any children of their own and therefore treated all their pets as if they were their kids. So they took JJ to a “doggie oncologist” to determine what their next course of action would be. The options this specialist presented to them were three-fold; give JJ chemotherapy, do surgery to remove the tumors, or do a combination of both. All those options would be expensive, as one would expect. While their final decision has yet to be made, (based on success rate and life expectancy) they are leaning towards solely doing surgery.

While my coworker and I were discussing the different options, it brought me back to a similar situation I had about four years ago. Hubby had called me at work one afternoon and sounded panicked. He told me that he thought something was wrong with our cat, Rain. She kept meowing and wouldn’t get off the couch. When he went to pick her up, she would howl whenever he touched her hind leg.

And this is our “teenager,” Rain

To give you an idea of how much Rain means to me … she, is the oldest of our three pets (two cats, one dog) that we currently have at home. If she was human, this November she would be able to vote in the presidential election (while she wasn’t eligible to vote in the MI primary this past January), that’s how old she is. She is older than my husband and I have been married. She is my first cat. Ever. She moved in with ME when I got my first apartment. And Hubby moved in with US in that apartment after we got married. And just like my co-worker, Rain is by all means, one of the three pets that Hubby & I call our “kids.”

So when I got that phone call, I rushed home to look at her and promptly called our vet who directed us to the “Pet ER.” As we sat in the waiting room, all I could think of how much pain my kitty was in. And how every time she looked at me, it was as if she was telling me to make it better. Eventually we were taken back and x-rays were taken. She had somehow shattered her femur. At that time we were given three options: have surgery to correct her fractures, amputate her leg (cheaper than fixing the fracture), or put her to sleep. Thank goodness the vet had enough sense to give Hubby & I a moment alone to discuss these options. I remember looking over at my husband at that time and just feeling completely overwhelmed. He smartly said at that moment, “We will do what needs to be done.” And that meant having the surgery.

Oh, did I fail to mention that during this exact time Hubby & I were in the midst of our one and only IVF treatment? Uh … yeah. So not only were we spending massive amounts of money in drugs and tests, etc (again, no insurance coverage in MI. Grr …) but we were going to drop another couple grand just to have our cat’s leg fixed.

And here’s is our 10 year old “puppy,” Kozzy

Were we nuts to do that? To spend that much more money on a cat that wasn’t “technically” our child? Especially since I was (at that time) by all means, pregnant with two embies inside of me?

While I still wonder to this day if the stress that I was under during that period of time was what caused me to lose our babies, I do NOT regret having made the decision to have the surgery to correct Rain’s leg. She is, by all means part of this (mutt of a) family and I wasn’t going to amputate her leg or put her to sleep over something that was easily correctable. And, honestly, if we had made any other decision, I think that even if our IVF attempt WAS successful I would have felt complete and utter sadness for Rain.

As it stands right now at this very moment … just like me coworker, our pets … our Yami, Kozzy & Rain … ARE our children. The miracles of life that we weren’t able to produce on our own.

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"Exit Game or Continue?"

The news of my SIL’s latest pregnancy had got me thinking about second chances. Not that becoming pregnant four months after Liam passed away is anything but a “second chance.” I mean, I know that no one or nothing is ever going to replace the love that she has for Liam. But I do have to say, she is very lucky to be able to have another child. And she is truly blessed to be given an opportunity to “reset” her course in life. I truly hope and pray that this pregnancy is much more smoother than her pregnancy with Liam.

I just wish that with infertility, there was also a way to have some sort of “second chance.” Sure, there is always the ability to go through more procedures and take more medications in order to assist with procreation. But that isn’t my point. I wish there was a way that I could clear out my tubes, fluff up my uterus, and pump up my ovaries … all at the touch of a button. Kinda like a reset button on any game system like the Nintendo Wii or Playstation.

But it doesn’t work like that, does it? It’s not that simple. With going through any ART (assisted reproductive therapy), it’s a matter of deliberation & discussion, finances and timing. What’s the best procedure out there for you? Can you afford to do any of these procedures (as many states still do not mandate insurance companies to pay for certain ART procedures)? Where are you at during this time in your life … in other words, can you afford to take the time off from work to follow the strict regimen and timing of your cycles?

And let’s not even get into the discussion of adoption … okay, well yeah … I guess I will because that, too, requires a lot of deliberation, discussion and finances.

I can tell you from my current emotional status of taking baby steps towards adoption that it’s overwhelming. International vs. Domestic? Both of them are very different types of programs with different set of rules. International programs include so many different countries with so many different government regulations. Domestic adoptions have their own separate nuances: open vs. semi-open? Or basically, how involved do you want the birth family to be with your child? Then of course, there’s always the thought that maybe the birth parents might change their minds. Either way, it’s incredibly terrifying to me to think of how much scrutiny that Hubby & I will be under with whichever program we decide on.

Really, I guess with the whole adoption thing (since I know that this is my next step), I wish there was a way to NOT go through the whole Home Study portion of it. My cultural background as as Asian-American has always leaned towards being more of a private person. We’re not apt to open up so quickly in front of complete strangers. (Now, on line or blogging … different story, for me anyway.) I know the logical reason WHY this needs to be done; it’s obviously for the protection of the prospective child that we might adopt. But then the one thought that keeps running in my mind is that if I was pregnant with my OWN biological child, I wouldn’t be under such scrutiny. That’s when I REALLY wish I could hit that reset button.

So given all that’s involved and all that I have been through with ART, I have to say I am actually pretty amazed I chose to “Continue” on this crazy infertility game rather than choosing to “Exit” or quit. I just hope I continue to have the energy to keep moving forward.