This is where I showcase all the cool things my friends are doing! Our current feature is Ali Sabin! Feel free to visit her site: AliSabin Designs
In the News
Remembering: Hospital visits
Monday, January 25, 2010
I was driving to the hospital to see Dad about every other night during late January and early Febuary. Highway 316 became the bane of my existence, filled with drivers that were apparently hoping to try out for Nascar soon. Luckily, Gwinnett Medical Center was right off 316 so I didn't have to drive into Atlanta. I wonder sometimes if Dad didn't go to GMC (and buy his house nearby) knowing how much I hated to drive in Altanta. He always laughed when I explained the fear I felt the minute my tires hit I-85.
Dad had always been a fast driver. I remember when I was 8 or 9 and Dad had an hour and fifteen minutes to get me from Warner Robins to the airport(a 2 hour drive with no traffic). We made it with 5 mintues to spare! I don't remember much from beyond the first minute when I looked at the speedometer and saw it well over 100mph. But that was Dad, living the fast life! Sometimes, when I'm speeding in his Durango, I think maybe he is there egging me on.
When I arrived at the hopsital, it was never somber. I approached it more like a secretary, asking the doctors and nurses for read out numbers and lists of who which tests would be done that day. I know Dad appreaciated it because he always smiled when I began my sentances with: Question....
Sometimes it was a little sad, when the news wasn't good. I remember one moment in particular, when I realized that even if Dad got out of the hospital, he wasn't going to be ok. After several specialists came and went, spouting off their concerns and explaining how we had to wait and see, I decided to corner a doctor outside of Dad's room. I was prepared to force answers out of him, but he was more than willing to answer my questions. Too scared to ask if my Dad was in fact dying, I asked they only question I really wanted the answer to: When can he go home? As the doctor looked through the chart to get a better idea, I saw 3 words that instantly brought tears to my eyes:
Prognosis is Poor
I don't really remember what the doctor said after that. I went to the hallway and collected myself before going in Dad's room. I was not going to burden him with my sadness, they would be time later for tears. Plenty of time...
Dad kept his spirits up though, and that made it easier. He loved to make himself laugh, usually at my expense. If he wasn't making fun of my granny Ga, he was giggling at my "hippie" shoes (they were mocasins!). I was always amazed how strong my Dad could be. So here is a picture of Dad, smiling!
Post a Comment