I got a call from my older sister on Wednesday morning informing me that Daddy was in the hospital, had actually been admitted Tuesday night. He had not been feeling well from Saturday, but being who he is, (and being a man...) he decided to wait until Monday to visit the doctor.
At first I was mad because of the unnecessary risk he had taken, then I was madder because my sister found out from a stranger, not the family members who knew what was going on. Then I panicked.
My mind latched on to the words 'admitted' and 'hospital' and almost immediately jumped to the worst possible scenario. And I started to bawl and heave and hyperventilate. Because as much as he rides my last nerve into the dirt, he is still my father and I still love him and I don't want to contemplate losing either of my parents.
Remember in my first Daddy blog I'd said something about not being sure how I'd feel if I lost him? Turns out that feels kinda like being body slammed by a sumo wrestler and then having a sequoia fall on my chest. I totally lost it for a good, long while.
Anyway, long story short, I got today off and went to the (gross, nasty, yucky, icky) St. Ann's Bay Hospital to visit him. And I was not prepared for the sight of my father wheeling one of those IV bag contraptions. I was not prepared for how weak he looked. I mean, I know he's pushing 60 and he's no longer in the prime of his life, but I was not prepared to see him like this at all and I don't know how I didn't start wailing down the place.
I don't know what exactly the problem is, but I know it had something to do with his blood pressure skyrocketing and high cholesterol. Naturally, he wouldn't say more than, "I'm alright." And no amount of prodding or nagging would get any more information out of him. It wasn't visiting hours, so I didn't get to question his doctor. He's hoping to be discharged tomorrow, but he can't even stand for 10 minutes, so I think that's a no-go.
My mind is in a tailspin right now. I don't know how to handle this situation. The not knowing what's wrong. Seeing him not well. I didn't even know he had hypertension! The worst part was seeing him lying in that hospital bed. My father, in a hospital bed! I'm still trying to process that, while my mind simultaneously tries to block out that image.
I'm glad I wasn't there when my baby sister (12 going on 30) came by, because I'm told she started bawling and God knows, I'd have surely flooded the property then.
I will continue to pray that whatever this illness is, it can be managed with medication and diet modifications. I'm really hoping that he's ok, but my mind (or the Devil) keeps causing me to overthink and over-analyse.
I hope we all come out of this experience closer, even though I know he won't suddenly turn into Mr. Share My Thoughts and Feelings. I hope it's a turning point for us all.
And I hope I never have to visit St. Ann's Bay Hospital for any reason ever again. Still trying to get the scent of the place out of my olfactory nerves. Ugh!
Please, say a prayer for him as you read this. I'll greatly appreciate it.
PS: Thanks also to Keresa who found her inner human being and reined in my panic session. Cheryl, your tutorial worked! :)