I have never been a parent, watching their child take his first steps. I wonder, though, if the feelings I have watching my Dad walking might be similar. I hold my breath as he reaches out to grip the walker, carefully positioning his feet in the unique way that works for him. Upon reaching that standing position without groans of pain or wobbles, he slowly proceeds to follow that frame of support as he heads to his destination.
His surgery, straightening his back, seemed almost too simple before we went in last Wednesday. Simple it was not. Removal of the wedge was just the beginning. In order to position the back in a more straight line, Dr. Simmons then broke the remaining part of his spine to align him. If Dad was writing this he would probably say, Yep, they took a wedge out and then broke my back.
Unashamedly, when he stands and walks, I cheer and encourage, take pictures, gape with my mouth wide open, and sometimes still tear up. He looks straighter, taller, and with a gaze that looks out, not down. I try to tell anyone that will listen that he has been curved my whole life, and that this is not some routine moment. Looking at my Dad, standing taller, is monumental and a dream come true!
Recovery, which really is learning how to work those degenerating hips to support this new straight back, is going to be a journey. It might be a long one. His next steps from the hospital room door are uncertain. Would a rehab facility be the best? Can Mom and I take care of things for him at home? We are certain that our trust in God to lead Dad through surgery is going to be the same trust in the same God who will lead him out of the hospital and down the road with his new perspective on life.
Wednesday, February 22, 2012
Thursday, February 16, 2012
One Day at a Time
My first glimpse of Dad after his surgery will be forever impressed in my mind and heart. From his head to his feet, he lay almost level. His gaze is now directed at the ceiling, so much so that he could not see the tv hanging from his wall. They had the equivalent of one and a half pillows under his head. Before, Dad had to build a mini mountain of pillows to prop him up in bed while he slept.
Extraordinary. Living miracle. An unimaginable vision. These are only a few words that I can use to attempt to describe him. He looks so long to us. I still cry each time I see him again. I just cannot get over how straight he looks.
A nurse came into the ICU room shortly after we were allowed into see him for the first time. She asked us how tall he was in a routine, mundane voice. We all stared at her. We had no idea the answer to her question. As our minds tried to answer that question, we stated what we knew.
He was 5' 10&1/2", forty years ago. He was barely 5' tall yesterday. We don't know how tall he is now.
We don't know today, but tomorrow we will see what height God has restored to him. We are pretty sure he will be taller than Mom, but shorter than Chad! :)
His breathing tube did not come out after surgery, so instead of sending him to recovery as was scheduled, he was put in surgical ICU. Breathing tubes, restricted visiting hours, staff that was still working to piece together his story made for a very unsettling evening and night. We knew they were taking care of him, but we could not witness it for ourselves.
Thankfully, Dr. Simmons checked in on him this morning and was able to relay his progress. His breathing tube had been removed, he was talking, and he had even made a joke.
When we got to see him, and talk with him the first time, he cracked us up repetitively with his commentary on the goings on around him. We had our Dad back!
It took most of the day for them to get him moved from ICU to his regular room. When they finally released him, we were able to scurry up ahead and welcome him in. The Lord blessed us with an evening of visiting, laughter, and a new buddy for Dad. His roommate turned out to be a real character, and the two of them together are like a little comedy routine.
We know the Lord has been answering all of the prayers that have been offered up for Dad and for us. We know because we are privileged to watch the miracle that is our Dad unfold moment by moment.
Extraordinary. Living miracle. An unimaginable vision. These are only a few words that I can use to attempt to describe him. He looks so long to us. I still cry each time I see him again. I just cannot get over how straight he looks.
A nurse came into the ICU room shortly after we were allowed into see him for the first time. She asked us how tall he was in a routine, mundane voice. We all stared at her. We had no idea the answer to her question. As our minds tried to answer that question, we stated what we knew.
He was 5' 10&1/2", forty years ago. He was barely 5' tall yesterday. We don't know how tall he is now.
We don't know today, but tomorrow we will see what height God has restored to him. We are pretty sure he will be taller than Mom, but shorter than Chad! :)
His breathing tube did not come out after surgery, so instead of sending him to recovery as was scheduled, he was put in surgical ICU. Breathing tubes, restricted visiting hours, staff that was still working to piece together his story made for a very unsettling evening and night. We knew they were taking care of him, but we could not witness it for ourselves.
Thankfully, Dr. Simmons checked in on him this morning and was able to relay his progress. His breathing tube had been removed, he was talking, and he had even made a joke.
When we got to see him, and talk with him the first time, he cracked us up repetitively with his commentary on the goings on around him. We had our Dad back!
It took most of the day for them to get him moved from ICU to his regular room. When they finally released him, we were able to scurry up ahead and welcome him in. The Lord blessed us with an evening of visiting, laughter, and a new buddy for Dad. His roommate turned out to be a real character, and the two of them together are like a little comedy routine.
We know the Lord has been answering all of the prayers that have been offered up for Dad and for us. We know because we are privileged to watch the miracle that is our Dad unfold moment by moment.
Wednesday, February 15, 2012
This Morning
At 4:30 am, with bleary vision, I caught a glimpse of the hospital through our windows. Feelings of intense excitement and incredible anxiousness, collided with the calm of the Lord's presence in my heart.
Dad's surgery is today. So many people are praying. We all made it. Dad is so brave.
I walked across the hall to check on Mom and Dad and found them ready to go. Mom was smiling, and Dad was very thoughtfully packing his pockets with his necessities. The moments flew by and I was soon dropping them off at the entrance to the hospital. Pulling away from the curb, watching some of Dad's last steps before he becomes straight, was indescribable. With Mom tight by his side, they were entering to his miracle.
After parking the van back at our "home", Kevin and I walked the short way back up the street to the hospital. We found Dad and Mom being cheerfully escorted down the hall by a fuzzy haired, happy fellow they all call Father Richard. Just minutes before, he had announced to a the whole reception area, "Who wants to go to surgery? Follow me!"
A really nice and thorough nurse went through all the necessary medical questions/history, and then described to us what would be happening with Dad while he was away from us.
A quick call to Chad brought Dad's third hug walked through the door and we were all together as a family. Dad waited up as long as he could last night, giving directions intermittently, but had to go to sleep before Chad made it. Reunited in the surgery preparation room, we were about to send Dad to a miracle that merely six weeks ago had been a thought.
If we find the Dr. that helped this man in the newspaper, Dad, will you go see him? It wouldn't hurt to just visit with him in his office.
They came to collect him, loaded him into the chair, let us have our last hugs, and wheeled him away. We immediately held hands and prayed him into the hands of the Dr.
His status on the monitor in our waiting room has read In OR/Procedure since 8:20. Our next update will be a visit from Dr. Simmons. We expect him around 2:00.
I know people are praying. I know God is watching over every step of this process. Our hearts are encouraged, uplifted, sometimes scared, and entirely full of anticipation.
Dad's surgery is today. So many people are praying. We all made it. Dad is so brave.
I walked across the hall to check on Mom and Dad and found them ready to go. Mom was smiling, and Dad was very thoughtfully packing his pockets with his necessities. The moments flew by and I was soon dropping them off at the entrance to the hospital. Pulling away from the curb, watching some of Dad's last steps before he becomes straight, was indescribable. With Mom tight by his side, they were entering to his miracle.
After parking the van back at our "home", Kevin and I walked the short way back up the street to the hospital. We found Dad and Mom being cheerfully escorted down the hall by a fuzzy haired, happy fellow they all call Father Richard. Just minutes before, he had announced to a the whole reception area, "Who wants to go to surgery? Follow me!"
A really nice and thorough nurse went through all the necessary medical questions/history, and then described to us what would be happening with Dad while he was away from us.
A quick call to Chad brought Dad's third hug walked through the door and we were all together as a family. Dad waited up as long as he could last night, giving directions intermittently, but had to go to sleep before Chad made it. Reunited in the surgery preparation room, we were about to send Dad to a miracle that merely six weeks ago had been a thought.
If we find the Dr. that helped this man in the newspaper, Dad, will you go see him? It wouldn't hurt to just visit with him in his office.
They came to collect him, loaded him into the chair, let us have our last hugs, and wheeled him away. We immediately held hands and prayed him into the hands of the Dr.
His status on the monitor in our waiting room has read In OR/Procedure since 8:20. Our next update will be a visit from Dr. Simmons. We expect him around 2:00.
I know people are praying. I know God is watching over every step of this process. Our hearts are encouraged, uplifted, sometimes scared, and entirely full of anticipation.
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