Previous Challenge Entry (Level 3 - Advanced)
Topic: FINISHED (04/09/20)
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TITLE: See You Later Daddy | Previous Challenge Entry
By Tammy Ortung
04/16/20 -
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“Happy Birthday, Dad,” I said a few minutes later as I strolled into his room.
I leaned in over, kissed him on the cheek and placed the blue, Mylar “Happy Birthday” and other latex balloons in the corner of his stark, white room. I opened his cards and placed them on the window sill to his left, and then squeezed into the empty chair next to the bed.
“Happy birthday to you … Happy birthday dear dad …,” I sang softly. Could he hear me? I’d heard that unconscious patients could hear what was happening around them, but I didn’t know for sure. Just the fact that he might be able to hear me was enough to make the effort.
A nurse came in about an hour later for routine checks. She scanned the room, saw the balloons and cards, and smiled.
“For when he wakes up,” I said. Her understanding eyes held a hint of sadness. “Will they wake him today?”
“I haven’t spoken to the doctor this morning,” she said. “But he can give you an update when he stops by later.” She changed the catheter bag, checked vitals, and shifted dad’s position to minimize bed sores. Then she reached up to replace the empty bottle attached to his IV with another vile of milky white liquid—dad would not be waking up today.
I thought back to the days before tragedy had bulldozed over our family.
“Your dad’s surgery went well,” mom had said on the phone. “They did a triple bi-pass.” The doctor’s hadn’t been sure if he’d need a triple or quadruple bypass surgery. “You wanna talk to him?”
“If he’s up to it,” I said, not wanting to wear him out. “Hey dad,” I said after mom handed him the receiver. “How you feeling?” I asked.
“Not too good,” he said with a gravelly voice. “But the doctors said everything went well.”
“That’s to be expected,” I said. “You’ll probably feel a little better each day. Just take care of yourself, rest and do whatever the doctors tell you to do, so you can be strong enough to come and visit in six weeks.” They had booked a flight to Washington, but during his last check up, and subsequent referral, the Cardiologist insisted Dad needed surgery right away.
“I don’t know if we’ll be able to come for that visit,” he said.
“Let’s just wait and see how it goes,” I said, always the optimist. “One of the guys on my softball team had a triple bi-pass last year and he was playing ball again within four months. These surgeries have become almost routine.”
“We’ll see,” he said. “Here’s your mother.” Mom and I chatted a while longer and then hung up.
“Your dad had a stroke,” mom half-cried, half-shouted into the phone three days later. “He’s completely paralyzed on his left side. There was a blood clot. They warned us this could happen.”
“They dropped him today!” mom said the following day. “Two nurses were supposed to assist him to the bathroom, but when only one tried, they both crashed to the floor.”
Three days later, dad went septic. An x-ray showed a one-inch gap from where the staples in his chest had cut through the soft bone. They opened him back up and left him sedated in CCU with a wound vac in his chest for several months until they eventually moved him to hospice. As mom and I sat listening to dad’s labored breathing, I recoiled when the sounds evolved into that horrific rattle. Twenty seconds passed, a shallow breath, then thirty seconds, a shuddering breath, until he breathed no more. It was the first time I’d ever watched someone die. I’ll ever forget it.
Prior to Dad’s passing, I’d always had difficulty imagining what Jesus must have suffered on the cross—not even the “The Passion” could encapsulate the magnitude of it. Yet now, I can imagine Jesus’ labored breath as right before He died, He raised his face toward heaven and said, “It is finished.” And while dad’s battle on earth is finished, thanks to Jesus’ sacrifice, I know I’ll rejoice with him one day in Eternity.
Nonfiction
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