The Nurse

came running out of Mom and Dads room
as I came down the hall.
I was scared.
Bad.
"Get her out of there" she yelled at me as she ran by,
"I've already called the ambulance!"
"What's going on?" I ask.
No one responds to me.

She runs past me and as I get to M & D's room,
Mom is sitting in her chair, braced, stoic and pale, shaking and scared.
Dad is having some kind of spell, in some kind of seizure,
 he is still concise,
 but whaling violently
 back and forth and
 Round and round in his chair.
 Throwing up, his eyes rolling back in his head, he is gasping for breath, he is pale, he is making wild sounds.
He can't breathe.
  It's awful.

They have matching Lazy-Boys
sitting side by side with a rectangle table
 between them.

There were 3 nurses trying to keep him off the floor and help him thru this.
Dad is big and strong, they had their hands full.
Mom was so pitiful and scared.
My heart breaks.
It hurts.

I found out later
SHE kept Dad in his chair by herself
until the nurses got there,
which she called for them.
She also had called me earlier to tell me Dad wasn't feeling very well.
I am, once again, so proud of her.
I feel like one of those parents that go on TV with their little 2 year old
 that called 911 by her
 big girl self
 and saved their loved ones life.
 It is pretty amazing, given her frail condition.
 She truly is the toughest little woman I've ever known.
She has always remained calm
no matter the
 horrible realities  we've lived through as a family.
Mom has never been a drama queen,
she is a
Real Queen-of our Family.
A Real Lady.
A Real Good Wife.
A Real Good Mom.

I quickly got Moms wheelchair out and tried to get her in it.
We got out in the hall and I tried to find somewhere to park her
that she wouldn't get in the way.  Things were in motion all around us.
Mom was crying, I was crying too.
I had to go back into the room with Dad.
I told Mom to stay put, and I went back in.


I always call Dad, Dad.
I haven't called him "Daddy" in years and years.
I don't know why I stopped calling him "Daddy",
because that is all I called him as a child.
  Maybe I just grew up.
I didn't make a conscious choice to not  call him Daddy,
it was just kinda an evolution.
When I saw Dad trying so hard to breathe,
violently thrashing back and forth,
pale, throwing up,
the word
"Daddy!"
came flying out of my mouth like an arrow
straight to him.
For an instant,
 I felt like a scared little girl
 screaming out for her Daddy in danger.
Dad heard me and  he looked up and kinda took a weird kinda breath and said "Well what are you doing?  Well good, good"
Then he reared back again.
"Lets try to get him to the bed!" the nurse said forcefully.
I grabbed the back of his jeans/belt and held on and lifted.
We got him in bed.
He was still throwing up, and kinda choking all at the same time.
Gasping and spewing.
As  bad as it was,
 it was somehow better
after Dad responded to me.
I wanted to tell Mom he was better
so I went  back out into the hall.
Mom and I sat together and watched the ambulance pull up.
Somehow things slowed down a little.
It seemed as if the ambulance attendants were in the room
a very long time.
I had taken Dads watch off of him.
He scratched his hands up with all the thrashing around he was doing.
They started an IV, gave him nitro and I don't know what all.
Dad settled down, but was still making crazy sounds.
He became more and more coherent but still not well at all.
They loaded him in the ambulance,
took of and  pulled up about 20 feet
 and then stopped.
Huh?
 What are they doing?
We were getting concerned,
 and about the time I go out to check on whats up,
they take off.
Mom wants to go to the hospital,
but the nurses try to talk her out of it.
She is having no part of it,
she is polite, and says,
"Yes, I know there is nothing I can do, but at least I can do that closer to him than from here."
 " I want to be close to him" she said.
I stepped outside to call my brother.
I started crying pretty hard when I got alone.
I get so mad at myself when I do that.
Crying all the damn time.
Everyone knows what a bawl bag I am.
My brother said he would be there asap.
I called my other brother.
I know he lives too far to come right away, but he needs to know what is going on.
We get done and I get Mom loaded up and we head over to the hospital.

Its cloudy outside, but not too cold.
The hospital is not far, just a short drive across town.
We get inside the ER, and Angela,
a childhood friend of my nieces from E-Town is the nurse attending the window.  She is awesome.
Her Dad,
Joey,
taught me how to play a walking country bass line on the electric bass.
 The rest (as they say) is history.

She gives us her love and concern and goes back to see what she can find out about Dad.
We wait.
Angela returns and tells us that they are still doing some tests, but the initial heart test show his heart is fine.
 What relief, but what the hell is wrong?
She tells us we can go back and set with him as soon as they are thru.  She is about to leave, as it is her quitting time.  She is going home.

Here comes the jealous bone again.

Going home......I want to too.

My mind wanders easily to all the chores at home to do......

"Yall can go on back now" says the new nurse at the window.
She gets up and opens the door for us.
 It has a debt card type key swipe on it.

We find Dad in trauma room #1
hooked up to the BP/heart monitor.
He looks so much better,
he knows us.

 We are both immediately relieved.

A nurse comes in with warm blankets for him and tell us his blood sugar level was 34, and then dropped to 0.  He has a urinary tract infection, and his heart and other vital signs are all normal. They are still waiting on some more results, so we can sit and relax and talk for a while.
Good.

My brother and L show up.
They see classmates of theirs from E-town in the ER
waiting for news on their mom.

world so small.......

I let them go in to stay with Dad.
Mom stays and I go out.
I call W and tell him what is happening.
I send M a text.
I try and communicate with all those on the
"List".
My crazy family,
 we do kinda have a system of who calls who
when events are happening
and  need to be spread around.
Some how we make it work.
(I have however decided we will never again try and draw names for Christmas with the Opt/out if don't want to gift clause. It doesn't work.)

In a little while,
brother P and wife L come out and say Dad is being released to go home.
???
Are they sure?
I still haven't talked to a Dr.
A Nurse Practitioner, as wonderful as they are, is not a Dr.
Dad has HIS Dr., and  he needs to see HIM.
I have learned to take your healthcare into your own hands.
bla bla bla bla bla
They say just what you want to hear.
OK.
I will find him.
Well, he is gone for the day so try tomorrow.
            Come on.
arggggggg

In the mean time, Dad is ready to go.
HA
We get out to the car  and the nurse realizes they didn't take his IV out.
Lord.
She runs back in the hospital and comes back out to the parking lot and takes the IV out with Dad still in the wheelchair.
You gotta love small towns.
Brother P and L took Dad,
I had Mom in the truck with me.
We head back.
Everyone is so glad to see us when we return.
It makes you feel good.
You can tell when people are genuine.
The people that care for M & D,
are  good people
they are real genuine.
They are full of love.
I thank God for them everyday.

Dad was hungry and ready to get some real clothes on.
Mom was exhausted and wanting me to spend the night.
They decided to eat in the room, so we got their meals ordered.
P & L left.
I didn't get out of there until about 9-9:30 pm.
It was a long,
 unrushed,
 quiet,
 dark,
 drive
home.
I didn't turn on the radio
I just couldn't process any more of any thing.


I'm really trying to live in the moment.