early this morning, as we were sleeping, the phone rang.
it’s a sound we’ve heard all our lives, but over the past month or so it’s tone has changed. the feelings of joy and eager anticipation it once stirred have been replaced with anxiety and worry, especially when the ring comes at a time when most people are safely, soundly, asleep in their beds.
early this morning, as we were sleeping, the phone rang.
for all the years i’ve known him, pops has gotten up at 0-dark-thirty every morning, drank a cup of some black tar-like substance that he calls coffee, and ridden his bike around miramar lake a few times. from day one of april’s tryouts to rain’s last game of winterball, he has been out on the field at every practice and every softball game that april and rain have. pops has always been very active and generally healthy.
early this morning, as we were sleeping, the phone rang.
just as we feared, the news was not good. it was kim’s mom telling us dad was having trouble breathing and they were taking him to the hospital, again.
in the past 60 days he has taken more “bus” rides than anyone should in their entire lifetime.
i am scared for him. we all are. his body has already gone through trials that have taken the life right out of others.
when he was young, hollywood made smoking look cool. movie stars, celebrities, and all the “in” people were doing it. wanting to be one of the cool kids, he started smoking, at age 15. for decades he smoked the strongest cigarette available, camel brand unfiltered. when she was a little girl, kim would sneak into his room and throw packs of his cigarettes away. he would just buy more. incredibly, his 3 pack a day habit ended the day april was born. he just quit, cold turkey, and never touched another cigarette. good thing kim was so young when she had april :)
he is one of the 1-2 people out of every 100,000 that have contracted guillain–barré syndrome. it knocked him down, but not out.
he has previously survived 2 heart attacks, and now lives with an implanted cardiac defibrillator (ICD).
all of this, and he was still leading a pretty normal life. resiliency is his middle name.
life has changed drastically for pops in the past 60 days.
as 2009 wound down so did his health. in all the years i had known him i never once saw him in pain. he is one tough hombre. his threshold for pain exceeds that of anyone else i know, which is why i began to worry when i noticed him staying at home almost every day and having difficulty walking. i’m not sure if it was our pleas, the memory of his mom whose own stubbornness prevented her from doing it and ultimately was the reason she had a fatal fall, or maybe it was simply the immense pain he was in, but he put his pride up on the shelf and began using a walker to help him get around. there’s no shame in accepting help, only in sinful pride.
that was november.
in mid december he received a diagnosis that would test the strongest of spirits, stage 4 prostate cancer.
those words came off the doctor’s tongue like a garrote.
pops said very little.
we visited him at his home later. tiny orange plastic bottles filled with life-sustaining chemical coctail littered his nightstand. they were a vibrant vision into a baneful future many of us will share.
2009 could not end fast enough, but as we waited for the ball to drop on new year’s eve our phone rang. on the other end of the line was kim’s mom. her frantic scattered thoughts barely permitted her to speak. a broken sentence advised us that dad was having another heart attack.
his third.
we rushed to their home and arrived just as the ambulance was preparing to take dad to the hospital. we followed, and waited.
our family rang in the new year together, near dad, in the icu lobby at ucsd medical center.
God allowed him to make it through that night. nearly a week would pass before the doctors allowed me to bring him home.
minutes after i dropped him off my phone rang. it was dad asking me to take him back to the hospital.
he had an echocardiogram done just before he was released that morning. a doctor read the results after we left the hospital and immediately called to request he come right back. we hurried back to the hospital, a blood clot in dad’s heart and the fear of God in mine. again they kept him a couple days.
the reasons are many, why i woke this morning fearful to answer my ringing phone.
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we just returned home tonight, sunday, to hear that dad needs surgery tomorrow.
it’s a catch 22 roll of the dice. if he doesn’t have it, he may not survive much longer.
however, if he has the surgery, his weakened heart and body may give up under the strain.
he’s fought through so much already, but i know there is plenty more fight left in him.
i wish his heart could just be as strong as it once was.
i wish he could leave the hospital.
i wish this was all just a bad dream.
i wish.
we pray that he is still strong enough to make it through this.
we are all not ready to lose him.
we never will be.
get well and come home soon pops.
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tomorrow and, God willing, the days that follow, we will be by dad’s side. it is the least we can do for him. during this trying time our blog may be silent for a while. we appreciate the support you have all given us. i know many of you will be praying for pops with us, so i will try to keep you posted.
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due to the h1n1 virus the hospital is not allowing anyone under 14 to go in. that means rain is unable to see grandpa. she wrote this note to him:
dear grandpa, you should know that i loved when you would play war with me and you would always win. mostly. it was fun when i would sit with you on your bed and watch ncis and csi new york and cover my eyes in your shoulder when it was scary. i liked especially when you would watch me play softball and i would tell you about when i hit the ball really good. now you have to sit and look out a hospital window. i wish i could see you. curse the stupid h1n1! i should be able to see my favorite grandpa. get well soon grandpa. i love you! – rain
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april is away right now and may not be able to come home, so she wrote this:
Steadfast, hardworking, ridiculously intelligent, and one of the funniest people I know, my grandpa has always been someone that I greatly admire and strive to be like. I have always been in awe of him. Many a day in my childhood I would sit with him in his squeaky old pink rocking recliner playing with his earlobe as he would rock back and forth. The small grandfather clock above the television would tick tock in the backround along with the gentle squeak of the rocker and my grandpa would answer the question on Jeopardy before Alex even finished the question. He was always right too. I knew I wanted to learn everything I could just so I could be half as smart, or even smarter, (Still not smarter. Slowly working on it.) He had a large collection of animal encyclopedias, huge binders with slick fold out pages on snow leopards, lizards, bears, you name it animal, fish or insect it was probably in there. I would sit and thumb through them reading all animal facts and oogling all the amazing pictures. He would read them with me sometimes and throw in his own two cents on what he heard about the animals. My grandpa also had a set of dinosaur books which I loved. I read and memorized all the scientific names for the dinosaurs, drew pictures of them, and played in the backyard digging up dinosaur bones. I wanted very much to become a paleontologist and he fed my interests in the sweetest ways. My grandpa would take me to the museums in balboa park when they had dinosaur exhibits and he would always take me to the Wild Animal Park when they had dino mountain, which was a trail where they placed animatronics of all the different dinosaurs, they moved, roared, and hatched baby eggs. He would read the signs to me and talk to me about the dinosaurs as we walked hand in hand around the park. He always supports me and my interests no matter what they are, driving me to school and practice for soccer and softball. Both of which I hardly ever missed, my track record good, though not nearly as amazing as my grandpas who has never taken a sick day, and has never missed a day of work in his entire life. Though he never finished High School, (Joining the Navy after the first semester of his senior year) He still got his GED passing the test with flying colors without study and went about his Navy business fixing planes and radios. He was always handy with anything mechanical. He would work on cars and garage doors and just about anything that needed fixing, his large hands were always covered in some form of grease or another when he was in the garage. I was always with him, playing with my action figures or trying to be like him by building something with wood, or rather not so much building as hammering a nail into a scrap of pine and calling it a successful display of carpentry. I distinctly remember the creamy orange smelling goo that he would squirt out of an industrial sized tub which did an amazing job at cleaning the gunk from his hands. Though really the thing I loved most and most treasured moments of my childhood is just sitting on his lap in that squishy rocking chair while grandma quietly flitted about the kitchen. It was always warm and toasty in my grandpas house, the clock monotonously ticking and the television a soft buzz in the backround. Sometimes he even had a large popcorn tin and we ate carmelized and cheesy popcorn the crumbs getting all over us. Then he would put me to bed, tucking me in and playing a mix cd he made of slow ballads of his favorite old country songs. While I don’t necessarily enjoy country whenever I hear a song from that cd it strangely brings me right back to my childhood and my grandpa’s warm house and even warmer hands as he tucked me in with a “Goodnight Sweetheart” and I smile and feel at home.
i love you papa.
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kim is having difficulty finding words right now. she quietly said “i love you dad. you are my hero.”
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oh my, you guys, as soon as i read your title "pops" my eyes began to water–that's what we call my dad at times. my prayers continue to be with your family. reading rain's note–the tears began to roll, then starting april's–the tears welled up too much that i couldn't finish, i need to go back and finish it. i used to dread the day i would be without my parents from a young age, i don't know why. reading this reminds me to be thankful for all the time we have together and to make the most of it–thank you for sharing.