Sep 13, 2010

Ignoring Something Won't Make It Go Away!

 Am I referring to problems that arise in life?  Most definitely!

Am I referring to my blog?  Only a little.

Within the week of my last post, life took a turn I wasn't expecting.  Something that had me feeling a wave of different emotions that I couldn't sort out.  I was feeling stressed, angry, depressed, anxious, overwhelmed.  It was like holding you breath for years waiting for the other shoe to drop and, despite knowing it's coming, it catches you off guard.

I didn't want to talk about it here.  I couldn't not talk about it here.  So, I avoided my blog (and most of yours in the process) so I could avoid my thoughts.

It's time to get them out.

August 19th, I was busy at work, likely ordering parts for an upcoming job, when I get a call from my cousin.  My dad was staying with my Nana for a few days and had fallen and had a seizure.  She was waiting to hear back from the doctor to see if he needed to go to the hospital. 

After that phone call, there were several back and forth to determine if he was going to the hospital; that he had another seizure and was being transported by ambulance; that he was in the emergency room but not yet being admitted.

Clint and I made arrangements for his mom to watch the kids and headed out for the hour drive across Houston.  I cannot even explain to you the shock I encountered when I walked into the ER.  His head was bloodied as well as his arms and parts of his legs.  His graying hair looked pink where the blood had been hastily rinsed.  He was so very thin that he appeared to have not eaten much in months.

I got the overview of what was going on from my Nana.  They were going to check him in, but were waiting on a room to be ready.  She had picked him up 2 days earlier to come stay with her because he sounded lonely.  He hadn't had an alcoholic beverage in those 2 days and started having alcohol withdrawal seizures while out on the concrete porch smoking.

I stayed several hours that night, waiting on his room.  The transport.  Getting him checked into the hospital.  Biting my tongue when he answered the question of "Are you addicted to anything?" with a negative.  They knew better.  I didn't have to say it.

I spent the next several days going back and forth to the hospital every other day and to my Nana's home to try to figure out how to pay my father's bills that were coming due from his online accounts.  None of my visits left me with a positive feeling.  One of my visits, my younger brother (19) met me at the hospital.  My dad spent the hour we were there trying to convince him to go buy him cigarettes, to take him to buy his own cigarettes, to take him home, and calling his son Tim (his name is Stuart).  The next time I saw him (2 days later) he had been moved into ICU where they could monitor him more closely since he was continually pulling out his IV (his potassium was dangerously low and he was given up to 3 bags a day) and they found him once at the elevator - no where near his room.  Apparently the ICU nurses had trouble keeping him under control as well and he ended up restrained to his bed.  I saw him in that condition and completely out of it.

I found out this past Saturday that he had been released from the hospital on Wednesday.  The only reason I found out was my husband went to help other members of my family move my dads things out of his house and he showed up.  Which very obviously meant that he was also not in rehab and the doctors had been very clear is where his first stop should be. 

He left me a message on Sunday about not having let me know he had been released.  It really lacked any sincerity and basically laid the blame on someone else my Nana had told and figured the information would have gotten to me.  I was absolutely defeated.  How can this person, who I love very much, not think it necessary to call me himself.

It took me until Wednesday to call him back.  Let me tell you the power of prayer is very evident in my life at the moment.  I have spent quite a bit of time asking God to work in my father's heart to open his eyes to the fact that he has a problem and let him want to improve and get better for himself.  During the conversation on Wednesday, I asked him what his plans were.  His response was that he was doing some research into and trying to find a rehab facility.  Slight weight lifted off my shoulders, but not completely.  We have been here before.  He entered rehab 6 years ago because the family finally wore him down enough.  "That's good", I tell him, "but only if you are doing it for your self".  He told me he is only doing this for himself and not for Nana or me or even his estranged wife Cassie.  He know knows that if this happens again, it will kill him.  And the majority of the bolder on my shoulder is gone.

I have a bad habit of looking at the "but" side of things.  As in, that sounds good, but...  I am really striving to focus on the positive and have faith in my dad on this.  I know he can kick the booze, but it will be a long, hard road to haul.  He is really going to need all of the family to stay encouraging for him.  I will be continuing to pray that this is it.  The last time I will hear my dad say he is quitting.