I received a text from my youngest daughter late last night. We text almost every day and I always light up when I see that it’s her.
She told me that she has an English assignment to write a 20 sentence essay about a powerful moment in her life, and would I mind if she wrote about my last hospitalization. I joked with her, which one? It was a caustic joke, making reference to the many crises I’ve been through in the last couple of years. It wasn’t funny of course, my battles have had a real impact on my kids, one that I wish they never had to deal with. The last one, I’ve heard, was particularly bad. I have to rely on what I’ve heard because I was unconscious for 2 days.
I told her I was fine with it and asked her to email it to me. Here is what I opened.
As I pulled up to the hospital, I did not know what to expect when I walked into his room. My mom and I made it into the hospital, to the elevator, and into the ICU. The nurse led us into the room and my heart dropped to my stomach as I saw my dad. I have never seen someone look so helpless, while he laid there with a tube down his throat and a machine breathing for him. The nurse was talking, but I couldn’t listen. All I could hear was my heart pounding, the machines beeping, and the sound of oxygen being shot into his lungs. The first time I saw his chest rise then fall, tears came to my eyes, but they did not stop. Tears kept pooling in my eyes and falling down my face. I could not breathe. I felt like I needed to have oxygen sent to my lungs, too, because I couldn’t seem to breathe on my own. They told me to talk to him, but what do I say? Would he be able to hear me? All I could do was hold his hand and hope he could hold mine back, but he didn’t. Even if he wanted to, he had gloves on preventing him from ripping the tubes from his mouth, which he had tried to do during the many attempts to wake him up. So I did the best I could and I held his hand and spoke soothing words to him. I told him I loved him. I told him he couldn’t leave me, and he didn’t. He stayed strong for me, for my family, and for himself, like the fighter I know and love. “He’ll be okay,” they told me. He’ll be okay.
She will be reading that in front of her class.
I was floored. I cried. I was so sad for her that she had to go through that, so proud of her ability to express herself so boldly and honestly, and so taken back by her account. Above all, I was blown away by the love this child has for me.
I told her how proud I was, how well-written it was and that I was moved by her words.
“Well, it’s all true”, she matter of factly replied.
I continue to struggle with that episode of my life. I’ve had a couple of medical close calls in my life and I sincerely remember traveling towards a tunnel of some sort before being revived. I know what I experienced and no skeptic will ever talk me out of it. But the last one was the worst. I was inches from the dirt farm, to the point where the Doctors were discussing my DNR.
Through Doctor and family accounts, I’ve been given details of the ordeal. The 2 ambulance rides, the first to a hospital that was ill-equipped to treat me. The 104.9 fever. The medically induced coma. The breathing tube and the bedside dialysis. I don’t remember any of it of course, and there lies the frustration.
The one thing I have never wrapped my head around is what my family went through during that time. The guy who always tried to act strong, through a carefully orchestrated design of denial and lying about my health was, in my daughter’s words, helpless. Helpless is not a word often associated with me.
My mother, my ex-wife (who was amazingly supportive and present throughout the ordeal), and my older children were all deeply concerned. But my youngest, she was beyond herself. We have a special bond.
As all of these thoughts ran through my sleepless mind last night, I texted her:
“That was a scary time.”
“I was more scared that I wouldn’t be able to say goodbye.”
Is there anything that would make a guy want to keep plugging on stronger than that? God, I love that kid.
That only works for so long
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I can’t even begin to convey what I’d be feeling if I was the subject of your daughter’s wonderful piece. Pride, overwhelming love, but most of all, guilt. Guilt for putting her through that, guilt for having her have to worry about me, guilt for not being whole and “normal.”
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Guilt indeed. That’s why I always tried to hide the extent of my illness from my children
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An amazing daughter with and amazing Dad! This is both heart breaking and incredibly beautiful. Thank you for sharing this, Billy!
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Thanks for reading. It was a powerful moment indeed
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I couldn’t help but think of my relationship with my Dad. We have become very close and our bond is so precious. It is so very clear that you and your daughter feel the same. It s a powerful and beautiful thing.
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Yes it is
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Incredible. I have chills. What an amazing young lady you have in your child. Yes, they also are affected. You can’t protect her from that. Allowing her to write how she feels and praising her for it… that’s a super dad. Now if I can stop crying…
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It was a powerful experience that I had to share
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So glad you did.
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She has inherited your aptitude for powerful writing. Good dad. I teared as I read her tears. Stick around; we need more of that from both of you in this world.
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I’m working on it Tom. Thank you
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What a wonderful daughter you have! She’s smart, talented, a beautiful heart! You are so blessed!
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I am. Thanks for reading
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The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.
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I can see why you adore her!
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Difficult and rewarding to read. that’s a good kid!
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I try not to be a downer. But try living it!
And yes she is a wonderful kid
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I can only imagine.
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you’ve got a great daughter. So have I. We plug on for our children. I’m so grateful for that. I’m also grateful that when I had my operation I had no memory of that awful breathing tube
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Apparently the breathing tube is quite a sight for the ones in the room
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yes, it is. I watched my brother struggling with it when he was waking from his op; I wrote about it; perhaps I’ll put it up later
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I’d like to read it
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putting my breathing tube post up this afternoon which your post inspired, thanks Billy
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That’s what we’re here for
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No there isn’t. I’m glad you survived and also that she shared her end of the experience with you. I have one question. Could you hear her voice while in the coma? Some people say they do. I am curious.
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I remember nothing
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Not a dry eye in this house. The best things we do in life, and it comes out in our children because it is our children who are the legacy of our love.
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one thing in my life that I got right
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What an amazing young woman! I cried all of the way through it. She is going to do big things in her life I presume. She has an amazing role model. I would expect nothing less.
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she really is. And thank you
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