A Beautiful Death - Part 4

My Daddy died at 5:00am on Thursday, September 20, 2012.

Daddy, my brother Bobby, & I
Our last picture together - 2009

Continued from Part 1, Part 2, & Part 3

September 9, 2012 - 6:30am

Surgery day. The struggle to stay hopeful is nearly impossible with the fear that is crushing my insides. I can see in my Moms' eyes that she feels the same way. When we got into the car at the hotel to go to the hospital, I asked her what she would like to listen to. "Something soothing." 

Sarah McLaughlin it is. I will never listen to "Mirrorball" again without the sounds bringing me back to those many drives between the hotel and the hospital. The deep breaths to ward off the palpable anxiety, the smell of coffee, the quiet, except for SM's haunting voice....until we reached the parking garage. Pushed the button, took the ticket, parked the car.

Walked straight into the building from the garage, took the first elevator on the left to the Plaza level. Turn left, then right, through double glass doors into a courtyard. Tower straight ahead. Two more sets of double glass doors, stop at the security desk. "Sapperstein Critical Care Tower Floor?" asked the officer. 4th floor, CICU, name, Daddy's name, ID check. Visitor badge issued. "Thank you Mrs.(Tiara), have a nice day."

This became the routine, several times a day. It was just as scary the last time as the first. Those two sets of double glass doors were my only escape. Once I reached the 4th floor, I had to put one foot in front of the other. Deal with whatever reality would be. My knees felt weak that day, as if any moment I would collapse. As we stepped out of the elevator, I silently prayed for strength.

We had an hour with him before he was taken for surgery. They would be performing a balloon valvoplasty. Recurrence of symptoms, restenosis (the formation of new blockages), and death occur in 50% of patients. Very risky surgery reserved for critically ill patients with absolutely no options left. We had decided to do this to him. There was a huge risk of stroke or brain damage. It was very likely that microscopic particles could travel up and cause brain damage, as the balloon breaks apart the calcification. The surgeon assured us that he has had great success with this and truly thought it was his best chance at living. We believed in him and Daddy's strength. I hugged the surgeon as my Mom signed the final consent. I asked him to promise to do his best for my Daddy. He kissed my cheek, squeezed my hand, and promised. 

The procession from my Daddy's room to the operating room was ominous. They had 5 nurses, one bagging him as he was unhooked from the respirator. He was surrounded and barely visible to me. The vast almost all glass corridor seemed miles long. I ran to keep up and tried to get just a glance of his face. 

I will never forget the fourth hallway from the bottom

They stopped just outside of the surgical suite and told us we had 30 seconds. I stepped back to give my Mom her 15 seconds of privacy. As she stepped away, I whispered in his ear. "Fight Daddy. Please keep fighting. I know you can do this. I am so proud of you. I love you so much. Please come through this, I know you are strong enough. I love you Daddy." As the nurses unlocked the wheels and took him away, the tears started to fall and didn't stop. I was afraid that would be the last time I would see my Daddy. 

All I could do is pray he made it through surgery.

Part 5 coming soon.....