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April 1996 my dad went in for a double by-pass that turned into a triple. He came through the surgery with flying colors, amazing even his surgeons from Northwestern. In the fall of 1996, they "ballooned" a blockage in his leg. Truthfully, he wasn't the same after that. Winter of that same year, he told me he was going to be fine. He would walk me down the aisle and dance with me at my wedding. January 11, 1997 at approximately 8:15 am, my mother wakes me up panicked. My dad had half fallen out of bed and couldn't get him up. Approximately 8:20 am, I help her get him up to find him cold, blue with blood around his nose. I run to call 911. Oddly, I'm remotely calm which for some reason I recall finding a bit humorous. Why? I really don't know. I run downstairs and stand in the cold on that bright, sunny Saturday morning waiting for the paramedics to arrive. It seems like they took forever but I know it was only a matter of minutes. You hear sirens everyday and really don't think anything of it. Believe me, it's creepily disturbing when you know they're coming for you. The paramedics arrive. I relay the facts - Diabetic, 51 year old male, not responsive. They go up to the second floor. I follow after locking the door. I remember waking into the kitchen wondering why everyone was just standing there. Why wasn't someone doing something? "We're sorry miss. There's nothing we can do. He has been gone for some time now. We're sorry for your loss." My loss? What did I lose? I remember my mother crying. My legs going out from under me as my chest tightened. I remember hearing the wheezing in my head. My mother screaming, "She's asthmatic." Firemen grabbing for me, holding me up asking me if I was okay, can I breathe, do I have an inhaler? I remember looking around dazed. In a matter of 15 minutes time, my life changed forever. And here it is 14 years later and I can remember every detail of that morning. How he looked. How freakin' sunny it was. All of it. And as I sit here typing this with the snow falling behind me, the tears are falling and I feel that pain all over again.
RIP Dad. I know you're in a better place. I know you're not suffering anymore, but damn it if all of that just doesn't suck.
