I Love My Daddy

I've been wanting to write about this for a while, but I haven't really gotten a chance to yet.  Over the weekend I decided that since it's been exactly a month since it happened, it's as good a time as any.

On Valentine's Day last month Will, Nelsa, Brian, and I hopped off of Toy Story Mania in California Adventure and headed to a churro stand to get a snack.  While Brian was ordering, my phone rang.  I answered it and stepped to the side of the churro stand, to be out of the way.  It was my sister.  She began by saying that they were in the hospital, but every time she said, "because..." a roller coaster would go by, making it impossible for me to hear.  I honestly thought that one of her kids had broken an arm or a leg or something, and she was just calling me as an FYI sort of thing.  I covered my free ear with my hand, and tried to get away from the noise.

"Dad had a stroke this morning," I finally heard, and immediately I started crying.  Christina kept telling me not to cry, that everything was okay, and that he was doing well.  She didn't have much else that she could tell me, so we hung up, and I waited until we got back to our hotel to call my mom.

He had the stroke that Monday morning, a little while after getting to work.  It manifested itself by making him dizzy, lightheaded, and nauseated.  He later said that the room was spinning and he felt so sick, so he just lay down on the floor.  One of his co-workers walked by his room, asked if he was okay, and he said, "No," so they called an ambulance.  At first they thought it was just an extremely severe attack of the flu, but once he got to the hospital, they found out if was a stroke.

While I talked with my mom that night, we thought of all the things that we were thankful for: that it didn't happen while he was driving to work, that someone walked by his door at just the right moment to get him help, that my mom wasn't staying with my kids (which was the original plan) and she was able to head to the hospital right away without figuring out what to do with them.  I felt bad that I wasn't home with everyone, but Mom said that Dad was doing okay, and that Brian and I should finish out our vacation.  I also realized that all six of us kids couldn't be hanging around the hospital at the same time, and that even if I was in the Tri-Cities, most of my time would be spent at home, waiting for news anyway.  So Brian and I sent some flowers to Dad's room, called multiple times a day to see how things were going, then we visited him in the hospital as soon as we arrived home.

Dad's recovery has been great.  He has full use of his mind - he remembers everything, and has even gone back to work part time, because he's the only one who knows how to do his job correctly.  He's been using a cane to steady him when he walks, and he goes to physical therapy a few times a week.  The stroke has been a huge wake up call for him to get his life in order health-wise, and I've heard he's lost thirty pounds since the end of January.

We are all so glad that Dad is still with us, both physically and mentally.  When I first heard the news, I was so scared of losing him, and I'm so happy he's still here.  I can't imagine what life would be like without my Dad.