This is my dad. Or as I like to call him, Pop Pop. Pop Pop and the rest of us have had one wild ride through life recently thanks to him needing a quintuple bypass and a heart valve replacement. It started in late June when I received a call, while on vacation, from my brother that Pop Pop was in the ER. Damn! I was 2.5 hours away! How could I get there fast enough? And how could I manage the anxiety I was feeling at 60 mph? Thoughts of worry raced through my mind. I held my breath, waiting to exhale. I decided calling a friend might be an option. (Thank goodness for modern technology.) I asked my friend to just talk with me. About anything! I just needed to know that I wasn't alone and that I wouldn't drive like a maniac. I arrived safely to the hospital where Pop Pop was just admitted. He spent 4 days in the hospital. But that was not the end of it.
"Florence, we need you to take your dad to UCDMC to have some tests run," his cardiologist told me. He would need an echocardiogram and an angiogram. And so we made our trek, at 5 am, to UCDMC about 2 weeks later. I was annoyed for having to wake up early while feeling stressed and worried over Pop Pop's health and my finances. (Paid days off are not in the self-employed's benefit package.) We arrived at UCDMC around 6:30 am and Pop Pop was prepped for his first procedure. I remember Mom and I walking alongside the gurney as they wheeled him in. Worry overcame me yet again. I held my breath, waiting to exhale. I was able to breath when the cardiologist informed us the procedure was a success and they needed to prep him for his angiogram. Lots of waiting, lots of pacing. Finally, they took him in. This time we had to wait in the waiting area. Worry overcame me. I held my breath, waiting to exhale. Two hours later, the cardiologist met with us and said, "He's going to need surgery." And so began all of the consults, the going back-and-forth to UCDMC, the planning of dog-sitting, house-sitting, rearranging clients, researching FMLA, etc, etc. And then the big day arrived.
July 16th. 5:30 am. Admitted and prepped. 6:30 am. Wheeled off into surgery. I kissed Pop Pop good-bye and immediately burst out into tears. My brother took me in his arms as I sobbed. And then, worry overcame me. I held my breath, waiting to exhale. Seven hours later, the surgeon came out to tell us it was a success. Whew! But that wasn't the end. Five days in ICU, filled with waiting-to-exhale moments, driving back and forth to UCDMC, calling relatives and friends about Pop Pop's progress. Our support system was incredible, though. Relatives and friends bringing us food, inviting us over, hugging us, texting, calling, emailing just to ask how we were. Letting us know we were not alone. And then finally, Pop Pop was transferred to the Cardiac Care Unit. But wait! One more complication. Worry overcame me. I held my breath, waiting to exhale. Relatives rushed to the hospital just to take visiting shifts since I was so tired from driving, worrying, talking with medical staff, etc.
But then the day of discharge finally came. And there was still worry. Worry now about Pop Pop's recovery. That first night home, he was like a newborn baby, waking up every 2 hours needing something. Worry, no sleep, I held my breath, waiting to exhale.
It's now been a month and Pop Pop is doing quite well. He begins cardiac rehab soon and continues to receive excellent health care from home health nurses and his cardiologist. He still has about another 2-3 months of recovery but he is doing great!
I finally had a chance to exhale the other day. And when I did, the flood gates opened. I cried. Cried from being tired, from being worried, from enjoying the exhilaration of the journey. And from being able to take care of my Pop Pop in a way I didn't know I was capable. And in this moment, I am no longer filled with worry. I am breathing. I have exhaled.
