My dad and I are super close. We talk on the phone at least once a day (if not 5 times), text, see each other, etc. He is one of my best friends. We have the same sense of humor and agree more often than not. In fact, I can remember only one time my dad and I argued. It was a doozy of a fight, and it ended up with me crying on his shoulder. I think I was 17. Anywho....I digress.
My dad and I also have another bond. When I had my cardiac arrest episode when I was 12, he was the one who did CPR and kept me alive. He always likes to hold it over my head that he "kept me here!" :) Well, back in October my dad was diagnosed with Hypertrophic Cardiomyopathy, the same disease that Noah and I both have. Turns out it came from him. Unfortunately he not only carried the gene that was passed down, but he also had the disease as well. A few weeks ago, he had some testing done and found out that he needed to have a defibrillator implanted. The news threw me for a loop. This was my DAD. My best friend. The tough guy. The guy who's never been hospitalized. The college quarterback. I just couldn't believe it. It hurt me so much to think of the pain he was going to go through. I know that pain intimately, and let me just tell you, it's not a fun surgery.
After I got over the shock of the news, it hit me. Of course. I always knew he wanted to be JUST LIKE ME! :) I am his favorite daughter. (And only...)
His surgery was this past Monday. Grant and I dropped the kids off to some of my fantastic mommy friends and headed down to Children's hospital. Oh--did I not mention that? Jeffrey got to have his surgery there. Since Children's Cardiology opened up an adult clinic, we're both seen there. The jokes that we made about him having his surgery there were fantastic. But in all seriousness, it was the best place for him to be. We went up to the 6th floor and into his room. As soon as we walked into the East wing, I knew. This was the exact wing were I was taken in 1994 after my cardiac arrest. Back then, it was the ICU. My dad was in the room right next door from where I spent my 11 days in ICU. The cute-sy wallpaper border was the same. The glass doors were the same. It was eerie. Who would've thought during all of that trauma almost 18 years ago, that we'd be back in the exact same place for my dad to have the exact same surgery??? Crazy.
My dad was surrounded by love all day. His brother and sister came to support him. His wife. His daughter (me!) and son-in-law. His son (who drove in all the way from New Hampshire). Friends. Church friends (including a new church friend who we just met. She actually transported me on the day of my cardiac arrest and just realized it after seeing the mailing from Children's Hospital featuring our story. She still works there!). As I drove home after everything was said and done, I got teary just thinking about how proud my grandma would be to see my Aunt Bonnie and Uncle Scott being there for my dad all day. Holding his hand and loving on him. Hoping and praying that when Alex and Noah are in their 60s that they'll be there for each other in that way. What a blessing.
His surgery went very well. His recovery time was hilarious. He was on a roll. If you've never met my dad, he can be very funny. It ALL came out while he was doped up on drugs. At one point, when we asked him if he was hurting, he said "yes." We asked where, and he responded "My feelings." Ha! At another point he said "This perfect specimen of a body is ruined. There goes my photo shoot for Muscle and Body Magazine." The nurse comes back with, "I thought it was for Playgirl?" And he says "No, that was next week!" He then proceeds to flex his good arm and say "I can't believe they let me into the hospital with these guns." Oh Jeffrey. You were hilarious. (He also has no memory of this and doesn't quite believe me...)
I came back later that night and sat with my dad while he slept. He yelled at me the next day for not waking him up. Ummm. Hello. You had just had surgery and were resting peacefully. Plus, I got to sit in a dark room and watch TV. It was a nice break for this Mama! I wrote him a note, took his glasses off for him and left. I came back the next morning (after more fantastic friends/family took my boys for me!) and hung out with him at the hospital, then brought him home and got him settled.
My dad, of course, has a newer, smaller, better defibrillator than I do, and isn't hesitating to rub it in. He also is already off of pain meds (weeks sooner than I was!) and couldn't feel the nurses pacing his device--which I hate. I'm thrilled he is doing so well. And, also, as awful as this sounds, glad to have a confidante that can actually understand how it feels to have a device. I do NOT want him to have one. But since he has to, and has one now, it's nice to know that he understands. It's just one of those things that you can't understand or appreciate until it has happened to you. I don't wish it on anybody--but I am grateful that I can be here for my dad to help him walk this path, and that we can commiserate together, compare notes, lead impedences, pacing thresholds, etc.
My mom always says that my dad and I are like two peas in a pod. Well, now we have one more thing to bond us together. Love you Fro!
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