Today is November 13. Today marks exactly one year since my father was admitted to the hospital for what we would later find out was septic shock.
At 10:24am, as I was attempting to walk my dad down the stairs to take him to the ER because he did not seem well, my dad stopped breathing. I laid him down on the stairs as he gasped for air with eyes wide open while I yelled and cried to the 911 operator to get an ambulance to the house because my dad was dying. The paramedics arrived soon after and picked up what looked to be my lifeless father, and took him to the hospital. COVID was controlling our lives then and no vaccine was available so they told me I could not go to the hospital. I called my brother in shock, panic and fear and we drove to the hospital where we waited outside of the ER for 2 hours not knowing if our dad was alive or dead. All we got was “it seems like they’re still working on him so he’s probably alive”. 2 hours later, we are finally allowed inside to speak to a doctor who tells us our dad is extremely sick and we may need to make some big decisions in the next few hours. All of our dad’s organs were failing. He was on a vent. He couldn’t even try to breathe on his own. What happened? He only had a stomachache! Our dad couldn’t be dying. But he was.
The next 2 months were full of ups and downs. He couldn’t get off that vent. He needed a trach. He didn’t tolerate a reduction in sedation. His liver was failing. His kidney levels were worsening. I needed to speak with palliative care. I couldn’t tell my mom and brother the truth. They couldn’t handle it. I needed to do it all. And I needed to do it alone. They allowed me to visit with my comatose father. I broke down and begged him to come back. He couldn’t leave us. We wouldn’t survive.
The next day, he tolerated a reduction in his sedation. They reduced the settings on his ventilator. So far so good. Two days later…the sedation was off. Ventilator was only assisting. Will he wake up? Hours later…I get a FaceTime call from the hospital. My father is awake. He cannot speak. Thank you, trach. But he can mouth a few words! “Hey mama. Have you eaten yet?” Is what he first says to me. My dad is awake!! My dad is ALIVE!
He eventually leaves the hospital on January 20. He cannot walk but he can now speak. He is weak but he’s okay. Nurses, physical therapists all visit our home and become family for the next several weeks until one day, all of a sudden, dad is back. It took months but it also seemed so fast.
Today, I’d say dad is back to 90% of his old self. He’s a little slower. A little quieter. A little needier. But he’s dad. And he’s alive. I’m a little controlling. A little demanding. A little tough on him and his medical team. But he’s alive. And doing extremely well!
I cannot thank this community enough for providing me with support and HOPE when my family and I needed it the most.
I write this post to not only thank you all but to also provide some of the hope that I was so desperately google searching for one year ago. Believe in modern medicine. Believe in a higher power. Believe in your loved one. Never give up. Never give up hope. Science and God together…they work miracles.
Prayers for everyone going through a difficult time. I hold you all in my heart.
Husband beat covid - home after 123 days. 
My dad graduated from ICU today!
First time experience of Loved one in ICU
My dad is being discharged home today!
