This week is passing by fast and I'm panicking a little bit because Dad still hasn't woken up and I have to go back to work on Monday.
No changes for Dad today. He's capable of breathing on his own, heart rate is steady, had to have dialysis today. I held his hand today and said, "Dad, I'm holding your left hand. Can you feel that? Can you move your fingers?" At first I thought I felt something, but then realized that it was just his pulse going faster in his fingers. I didn't think this was anything but Grannie said it actually was. A faster pulse in response to something I did is a good sign. He may not be capable of moving right now, but a faster pulse shows he's at least trying. I'm going to test this out tomorrow.
I was exhausted today. I think we all are. You wouldn't think that sitting in a hospital all day would wear you out, but it does. It emotionally sucks the life out of you. You're surrounded by sick and dying people - especially in the ICU floor. And you see their family members go through the same thing you're going through and it. just. sucks.
I think we go through cycles. I felt hopeless this morning. But as I stared at Dad and thought about everything that's been going on, I felt better. It is still hard to see him in that bed, but sometimes it gets easier. I keep myself busy by massaging his swollen hands, arms, and feet. I talk to him, I cry to him, I pray. I read and hold his hand, watch tv with him. I just... exist with him. Because I don't know how much longer I'll have him around.
When I first married Chris, I wrote my dad a letter talking about how much he means to me. I'd like to find that letter and read it to him again.
We keep hearing stories of people surviving a coma like Dad. We have to hope that can happen to Dad as well. It just might take awhile...
Thursday, May 28, 2009
Wednesday, May 27, 2009
12.24 am
The high I receive from cutting is... wonderful. Crippling. Sometimes necessary.
Mom doesn't understand what I'm saying when I try to voice how I'm feeling right now. She gets mad at me for getting frustrated. This makes me feel guilty because... I'm making my mom sad during this very stressful time. I try to explain... it doesn't go through.
I swear its amazing... the feeling I get from cutting... just seeing those little beads of blood develop on the right arm... in the nook that won't show with a t-shirt on... pain diminishes even though I know I'll cry tonight. But cutting makes me feel like I can handle tonight's upcoming cry fest.
I take my knife and make the first cut. Mistake because I do it on the forearm where it can't be hidden. That won't work - people might see. so i make the next cut near the crook of the elbow. swipe the blade fast and watch the cut appear. beautiful. that red line begins to calm me. its a good location so i make my next cut near that one. very nice. one more cut is sufficient. i put the blade away. no one caught me in the act so this was successful. i lay back against the pillows and let the feeling wash over me. eyelids droop. thoughts become impaired. i feel... numb. i feel heavy. thinking becomes ... unnecessary. i've had too many bad thoughts today - i need a break.
the sting of my little cuts as i bend my elbow soothe my tortured soul. yes, my little ones, i feel your comfort. i don't want to cry tonight. i don't want to sob and deal with the possible loss. i can't even imagine what it would be like to only have a mother.
dad can't leave us.
and i can't think of how i'll cope without a blade.
she says i'll break her heart if i cut. what about my aching heart that's already broken?
Mom doesn't understand what I'm saying when I try to voice how I'm feeling right now. She gets mad at me for getting frustrated. This makes me feel guilty because... I'm making my mom sad during this very stressful time. I try to explain... it doesn't go through.
I swear its amazing... the feeling I get from cutting... just seeing those little beads of blood develop on the right arm... in the nook that won't show with a t-shirt on... pain diminishes even though I know I'll cry tonight. But cutting makes me feel like I can handle tonight's upcoming cry fest.
I take my knife and make the first cut. Mistake because I do it on the forearm where it can't be hidden. That won't work - people might see. so i make the next cut near the crook of the elbow. swipe the blade fast and watch the cut appear. beautiful. that red line begins to calm me. its a good location so i make my next cut near that one. very nice. one more cut is sufficient. i put the blade away. no one caught me in the act so this was successful. i lay back against the pillows and let the feeling wash over me. eyelids droop. thoughts become impaired. i feel... numb. i feel heavy. thinking becomes ... unnecessary. i've had too many bad thoughts today - i need a break.
the sting of my little cuts as i bend my elbow soothe my tortured soul. yes, my little ones, i feel your comfort. i don't want to cry tonight. i don't want to sob and deal with the possible loss. i can't even imagine what it would be like to only have a mother.
dad can't leave us.
and i can't think of how i'll cope without a blade.
she says i'll break her heart if i cut. what about my aching heart that's already broken?
I'm hopeful today. I think I have to be. It's too tiring to be sad. I woke up with new hope, which is something I haven't had in a long time.
Last night one of Mom's friends shared a story of her daughter who was in a coma. Doctors told them that her daughter wouldn't live again. She is now a normal, healthy person. I have to believe that and think it might happen to Dad too. He couldnt have been brought back just to be a vegetable. Anyway, tons of people have called Mom and told her similar stories of people in Dad's position that are now healthy, happy, normal people. I HAVE to believe he'll be healthy and normal soon. I'm tired of thinking otherwise.
And Mom said that we will keep trying and keep him alive as long as he has brain activity. We won't give up until doctors say he doesn't have any brain activity. That may take days or months but we're not going to give up on him until he's braindead. We owe that to him.
I left work yesterday and told them I wouldn't be back until Monday. They are completely supportive of me and are making sure I am taken care of financially during this time. I am extremely grateful for them. I came back to San Antonio to be with Mom, Dad, and my brother. When I left on Monday afternoon, I felt like I was abandoning them. So I'm here now to be there for them.
I cried on the way to San Antonio. I prayed. I remembered things about Dad that I love. Mom asked me to stop by their house and pick up his iPod - we were going to play music for him to see if that helps. When I got to the house, I started going through Dad's stuff. Just touching things that are his. Smelling his cologne. Laughing at how none of his socks are unmatched - he hated missing socks. As I looked through his things, I found his gun. I really struggled with that. I later told Mom to hide the gun - I don't want to be tempted like that.
I brought his iPod to the hospital but it wouldn't work. So I pulled out mine and selected Janis Joplin. When I was a kid, Dad shared her music with me, so I felt it was right to share it again with him. He got the left earbud, I got the right. I laid my head next to his, held his hand, and we listened to Joplin for about 2 hours. I cried, I prayed, I talked to him. But sharing the music with him was a very beautiful experience. I want to sit with him and listen to her again - only with him awake and healthy. I want him to tell me that he remembered when I played music for him and how he enjoyed the experience.
Today Mom and I spent time with Dad. We gave him a small washcloth bath, then Mom read all the get-well cards that he received and I massaged his hands and feet. I was able to get more circulation to his hands so the swelling went down and they were warmer. I was able to uncurl the fingers and warm them up. Mom said they looked much better.
I have to stay positive.
That is how I feel today.
Last night one of Mom's friends shared a story of her daughter who was in a coma. Doctors told them that her daughter wouldn't live again. She is now a normal, healthy person. I have to believe that and think it might happen to Dad too. He couldnt have been brought back just to be a vegetable. Anyway, tons of people have called Mom and told her similar stories of people in Dad's position that are now healthy, happy, normal people. I HAVE to believe he'll be healthy and normal soon. I'm tired of thinking otherwise.
And Mom said that we will keep trying and keep him alive as long as he has brain activity. We won't give up until doctors say he doesn't have any brain activity. That may take days or months but we're not going to give up on him until he's braindead. We owe that to him.
I left work yesterday and told them I wouldn't be back until Monday. They are completely supportive of me and are making sure I am taken care of financially during this time. I am extremely grateful for them. I came back to San Antonio to be with Mom, Dad, and my brother. When I left on Monday afternoon, I felt like I was abandoning them. So I'm here now to be there for them.
I cried on the way to San Antonio. I prayed. I remembered things about Dad that I love. Mom asked me to stop by their house and pick up his iPod - we were going to play music for him to see if that helps. When I got to the house, I started going through Dad's stuff. Just touching things that are his. Smelling his cologne. Laughing at how none of his socks are unmatched - he hated missing socks. As I looked through his things, I found his gun. I really struggled with that. I later told Mom to hide the gun - I don't want to be tempted like that.
I brought his iPod to the hospital but it wouldn't work. So I pulled out mine and selected Janis Joplin. When I was a kid, Dad shared her music with me, so I felt it was right to share it again with him. He got the left earbud, I got the right. I laid my head next to his, held his hand, and we listened to Joplin for about 2 hours. I cried, I prayed, I talked to him. But sharing the music with him was a very beautiful experience. I want to sit with him and listen to her again - only with him awake and healthy. I want him to tell me that he remembered when I played music for him and how he enjoyed the experience.
Today Mom and I spent time with Dad. We gave him a small washcloth bath, then Mom read all the get-well cards that he received and I massaged his hands and feet. I was able to get more circulation to his hands so the swelling went down and they were warmer. I was able to uncurl the fingers and warm them up. Mom said they looked much better.
I have to stay positive.
That is how I feel today.
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