Conversations with Dad

I wanted to title this 'conversations with the Mad Hatter' but Landon forbade it. My Dad had such a great day yesterday and must have really worn himself out because today he was very tired and lethargic. In fact this afternoon he slipped back into a very deep sleep and resumed his all too familiar shaking. We haven't seen him do this for weeks and it was concerning for us to watch as we are constantly afraid he may suffer from a rebleed due to the high administration of blood thinners. The medical director came to the room and while he was also not able to rouse Dad, he reassured us that he is still recovering and still has blood in the part of his brain that controls consciousness. While He was in his coma like state the speech therapist came to practice speaking with him by placing a speaking valve on his Trach. For days now my Dad has been mouthing words and becoming more frustrated that he is not able to effectively communicate so I was super anxious for him to wake up and participate.

The therapist left her pager number and said if we could wake him within the hour she would come back. I know my Dad was probably so annoyed with all of my tactics, but he eventually opened his eyes to my pleading.

When the valve was in place and he was able to speak with us he was extremely confused. He could not remember any of his kid's names and said my mom's name was 'Mary'. He did remember though that Cade is his brother and told my Mom repeatedly that he wanted to go home tonight or tomorrow. He asked me when we got on the ship, counted to four in Spanish instead of English and couldn't believe he had been married for thirty years. We smiled and laughed while he talked, not because we were making fun of him but because it was such a relief that he was able communicate and clearly still has language skills. I think he would have been much more lucid if we had not done the speaking trial right after a deep sleep, but at this point it's really difficult to tell exactly what he understands right now.

I know this blog sometimes comes across as sad, or as if I highlight the bad instead of the good, but this blog is perhaps the most true, raw and honest thing I have ever written. No one can dictate what emotions you should have when going trough an experience like this and I certainly cannot apologize for any feeling I have had throughout this process. My dad has made amazing strides in three weeks, he has done things countless professionals said he may never do and literally grows stronger everyday. That being said, this process continues to be one of uncertainty and grieving for my siblings, mother and I. We are each coming to terms with the reality of our situation and dealing with these difficult emotions in our own way. This blog has been therapeutic for me. I have sat by my Dad in the darkness of his room and written thoughts straight from my crying heart. Its literally as if i am opening my diary to thousands of strangers and it makes me extremely vulnerable. Please understand that in a hemorrhagic stroke as severe as my Dad's, patients do not wake up and return to their daily lives right away. Some days are good. And some days are bad. I am certainly not trying to give more credit to one than the other. Someday I like to think I will read this with him and I know that he will appreciate every emotion that we felt: the joys AND the heartaches.