“What’s his date of birth?”
I snapped back to reality and tried to focus on the lady peeping at me from behind the computer screen. I can barely remember my own birthday but this was important and I was drawing a blank. “God, you know I can’t do mental m…”
“ xx/xx/1939”, ”Thank you Lord!”
“What’s your relationship?”
“I’m his daughter”
…and on it went. I overheard the EMT’s asking my dad a few questions too and also him lying about his smoking habit #facepalm. Thinking back, they probably had all of that information already. After all, it wasn’t our first rodeo. I signed as my dad’s guardian and went to the waiting room. They would not let my mom come back where my dad and I were because she did not ride in the ambulance so I knew she was anxious. We waited, and waited, and waited some more. Someone came and explained that my dad’s condition had stabilized but every time the nurses tried to get a scope down his throat to see the source of the bleeding, which they thought was in his stomach, brought his heart rate up to dangerous levels until he finally had a heart attack in the ER, which I ascribe to their efforts but I digress. Since he was not in pain and no longer spewing blood I figured he would be released in a few days but he would not be able to go with my mom and I to the airport. Maybe mom knew what I was thinking; sometimes she is intuitive like that. “I think you should still go on your trip.” I thought so too. In fact, it had never occurred to me not to go. Satan used this situation to get to me but I just was not having it. We made sure dad was situated and left for home. I am not sure what time we got home, around 4:00 am maybe, but I had been up for over 24 hours so I crashed into a dreamless sleep. We went back to the hospital later in the day to see my dad putting on a brave front. He wasn’t in any pain but he was ready to go. If we had not taken his clothes with us he might have escaped.
We went back to the hospital later on that day and dad put up a brave front. Of course, he didn’t want to be there but when he asked about his chances of getting out of there by Sunday and was told that it was unlikely, I think I actually saw him deflate a little. Well, sometime Sunday before I went to see my dad, I got a phone call from a doctor at the hospital.
“Hello? Ms. X?
“Yes, this is she”. My heart was racing; I thought something was wrong.
She said that as his guardian, I could sign some sort of temporary release waiver where my dad could get out of the hospital for a while and be checked in again later. I don’t know what possessed her to tell him about that but he was pretty surprised when she relayed my, “not happenin’ partnah.” His response was, “WHAT?!” and the doctor’s was, “See, I told you Mr. X”. His intention was to be released so he could drive me to Reagan National Airport, about a three-hour round trip, in the wee hours of the morning, then plop himself back down in a hospital bed. There was no way I was going to allow it. If anything happened on the way there or back, I would have to get on the plane knowing my dad was in bad shape. Mom and I explained that to him when we went to see him later. He finally accepted that our goodbyes would have to be said at the hospital and wished me well. We prayed, then mom and I went home to rest. My flight was at 6:00 am Monday, December 15, 2014 so by 2:00 am we were on the road to Reagan.