On December 12th 2019, mom had called and said that you went to the doctor because you weren't looking well.
A week before that, you and I had a conversation about how I was worried about your health since you decided to go off your blood pressure medication cold turkey without consulting a doctor. You had told me you would talk to a medical professional about my concerns and knew I was coming from a loving and caring place. Though I was shocked and somewhat angry that you could do something so reckless and dangerous without knowing the consequences, I was at least happy you listened to me and understood why I could be so worried; after all, you are my daddy.
When December 12th came, it was more than a mere doctors visit. Your doctor, who has known you for at least 15 years, told you to go straight to the hospital. He wanted some tests done and you were definitely showing signs of jaundice. You were admitted to the hospital right away and signed all the papers you needed to in case things went south and medical measures had to be taken. You wanted to live. You wanted to be resuscitated. You were 100% lucid and awake, talking and complaining about being in the hospital which was so you daddy.
Of course I was busy with work so I went by my mom's word of mouth. I was busy planning our all company holiday party for the 13th and I wouldn't be able to see my dad until the 14th. I wish I dropped everything and went to the hospital that day because my mom made it sound like this was going to be in and out testing and nothing more, but little did I know, that would be the last day my dad could have ever talked to me or even hugged me.
December 13th came and mom told me that his blood pressure was actually good but he was retaining fluid in his abdomen now and would need to run tests on his liver and kidneys. When my husband got home, I just about broke down in the strongest way I could and we talked. I do not have a medical degree but I do have a Masters in Social Work so I am aware of some diseases brought on by addiction or other environmental factors. I told my husband, with my dad's symptoms there could be no way we weren't looking at the worst case scenario - cirrhosis. That would mean complete liver disease and failure so much so that there are only two ways to cure it - transplant or die.
December 14th came and I was finally able to see my daddy. He was knocked out from pain medication since they needed to drain fluid and attach more IVs, etc. He could talk if he wanted to, but he was so out of it, I am sure he wouldn't even know how to work his vocal chords or his mouth for that matter. Daddy was trying to pull every chord out of his body, so my husband, mom, and I felt like we were wrangling a cat in some ways. (I know he would appreciate that analogy.) Nothing could prepare me for just how yellow his skin was because I have never seen someone with jaundice and here I was looking at my daddy who could match a Crayola crayon. Then a doctor walks in and says that they have applied for a transfer to UIC hospital in case they had discovered his tests proved he would need a transplant, UIC would be the best place to get one.
So later on it was confirmed that my dad did have cirrhosis and we were looking at the worst case scenario. In the middle of the night on December 15th, daddy was transferred to UIC hospital's MICU where he was placed on medication that kept him asleep to not feel pain. By the time he arrived at UIC hospital, he was even more jaundice and yellow than before.
My husband had to work the week of the 16th-20th so his stomach was in knots since he would have to hear about my day and what was going on with my dad's condition. Every day that week we had to deal with more and more difficult circumstances. The first was talking with the Liver Team having them as both mom and I questions about his previous health, habits, and conditions if he were to get a transplant. We asked that they contact his primary care physician to get the liver information because even if there was something wrong he would have never told us. We did say he was an alcoholic; alcohol was a coping mechanism for the abuse and hardships he endured as a child, young adult, and even adult. Lastly they asked about conditions for getting the transplant. They had asked if he would comply to rehab and psychotherapy. My mom said yes and I said no. At the time I truly believed it and I explained why. I told the Liver Team that going through rehab alone and therapy alone would be so harmful for him and hurt him that I don't think he could be successful. He would need someone with him who has empathy and could hold his hand. Now I did admit I was conflicted because I wanted my daddy to get a second chance and live, but I knew he was facing some very harsh demons which got him here in the first place. So the Liver Team left and mom and I stayed until visiting hours were over.
I sat in the car silent. I didn't know what to say. And then the tears poured out and I couldn't hide my guilt any longer. I looked at my mom and balling my eyes out said that I was so sorry for what I said to the Liver Team and I really want to take it all back. I told her I felt like I alone condemned daddy to death because I wasn't as optimistic as she was. Of course mom reassured me (as well as my sister on the phone that night) that my opinion wouldn't be the only thing considered when it came to a transplant. But I still felt guilty and I really did feel like I condemned an innocent man to death.
The next day, tests were showing no improvement on the liver and now his kidneys were failing. He was getting put on dialysis and intubated for life support. I pulled my mom aside and told her I would never want to overbear her with decisions, but I feel like we should call my sister (who lives in Florida) and have her take FMLA for a few weeks and fly her in because she should be here. My mom said that's what I was here for to make those tough calls. So I went into the hallway, while mom stayed with my dad, and I placed a call that I was scared to make but knew I had to. So I called her and told her to tell her boss to get that paperwork ready that day because I was going to get her on a flight the following morning. Mom and I got her on a flight on United and had her returning on January 6th, which we could always change if need be.
So my sister comes in and I told her that I was not prepared for the sight that I saw so I would walk in with her and if she felt uncomfortable, we could walk out of the room for a while and then come back. My sister was fine but I could tell it was difficult especially seeing him hooked up to so many machines.
Then the Transplant Social Worker comes in and I am actually happy to see him figuring a) we could probably do some really good social work communication together and b) maybe I could rectify my guilt. So he really got a lot of information but definitely hurt my mom's feelings making her thing she had done something wrong by not throwing daddy out of the house for his drinking or other consequences. My mom couldn't do that to my daddy. He had been given up on and abandoned by everyone that was supposed to love him and my mom was not going to fall into that pattern. So I told him that and all he did was reiterate that if he were to get a transplant, if he were to start drinking again, there would have to be consequences. I assured both he and mom that I would help make this happen in different and unconventional ways. Then the time came about the rehab and psychotherapy question. My sister and mom agreed he would comply and then he turned to ask my opinion. I said, "When the Liver Team was here, at first I said no because going through rehab and psychotherapy by yourself to face these unthinkable demons would be really difficult for anyone, but especially him because he is so sensitive and has no real coping mechanisms. But after thinking about it, and feeling like I was in a sense sentencing my dad to death by saying no, I learned more information that changed my mind. He had signed every medical/legal paper saying he wanted to be kept alive. You wouldn't want that to waste away and suffer, you want a chance to change and make things better and he was making strides until this unfortunate event." Then the Social Worker asked me, and me alone to diagnose my father. I replied, PTSD and depression. It is that simple.
I went home sobbing to my husband telling him that for once I think I did something right. I think I was able to rectify my wrong, cure my guilt, and give my daddy a fair shot at a liver transplant for a second chance.
So after meeting with the Social Worker we had to wait on the medical investigation from daddy's primary care physician, because if he was told to stop drinking your liver numbers are bad, transplant would be out of the question. So we waited another day and then the Liver Team came back and I introduced my sister to them and grabbed my mom from the waiting room who was taking a call. The Liver Team told us his liver numbers were never bad enough for his doctor to have a conversation with him about his drinking and after collecting the data from the Social Worker they would just need Daddy to become more lucid to consent to rehab and psychotherapy and he would be #1 on the list for a transplant. There was a definite air of relief in the room knowing he never lied to us and this was just an acute and horrible random occurrence.
So the nurses took him off any medication that would knock him out so we could try and get him to wake up and consent.
Now we are at the week of Christmas. My husband has now joined us and is relieved that he can be with daddy. It took days for those sleepy pain medications to make their way out of his system, but we were there every day talking and trying to get him to open his eyes.
Christmas Eve rolled around and I insisted that my husband spend it with his family. Cuban Christmas Eve is such a big celebration I would have hated him to miss out on it, and so would daddy because he loved it too. So my sister, mom, and I went back to UIC Hospital and dad's eyes were open. His brain however was clouded with the toxins from his kidneys and liver but it was a step in the right direction. Just to see him with his eyes open gave us such good hope.
Christmas Day rolls around and there's my daddy. He is shaking his head yes and no to questions we ask him. He still couldn't talk because of the breathing tube but he was responding. It was one of those great days where you felt like we are going to make it and get out of this on top. My mom and sister wanted to leave and make the preparations for Christmas Dinner at my mom's house but I could not leave my daddy. I told them I am staying as long as I can with him and my husband and I will meet you at the house. They agreed because they all knew how painful and stressful this whole ordeal was.
We had a private moment just him and me where I said everything I needed to say. First I told him I forgive him for everything he ever thought he did wrong by us but most importantly I wanted him to forgive himself. He nodded yes. Then I said that I still need my daddy more than anything and that I love him and that I hope he felt the same. He nodded yes. Lastly, I told him that I loved him unconditionally, which meant no matter what I will always love you. Unconditionally love you. I asked if he understood and with tears in his eyes, he nodded yes.
My husband wanted to lighten the air in the room and told him that soon he would be out of this place and would be giving peanut butter to our Lucy baby (our Doberman). Dad shook his head no. It's as if he knew he wouldn't. I wouldn't let him end on a no nod so I kept saying how much I loved him unconditionally, which he would nod yes to. His nurse came in and called daddy the hospital's Christmas Miracle, if only she knew that he was an every day miracle to us. Right before we left for the night, we wished him a Merry Christmas and he nodded yes and then we said how much we love him unconditionally, and he nodded yes. Little did I know, this was the last genuine "conversation" I would ever have with my dad.
The next day, things had gone from Christmas Miracle, to worse. every vital number was going down and not showing any improvement and on top of it his blood pressure was low. The toxins were over taking his body. The nurses tried draining fluid from his abdomen again and dialysis but he was still in bad shape.
December 27th, a day that feels like everything moved in slow motion and sped up at the same time. My sister and mom were already at the hospital when my husband and I arrived. There was a Pathologist and the main doctor we had been working with and my sister and mom were already in tears. The time had come and the decision had to be made to take daddy off of life support and put him in comfort care until he passes. I was floored and questioned everyone how we could save him and they said they have tried everything but his body is just not strong enough. My mom looked at me and told me she had to make this decision once before and that I needed to trust her no matter how hard it was. I didn't want to give up on daddy and there is still a part of me that wishes we didn't. My mom called her two brothers and my daddy's best friend to say their good-byes before anything was done to make sure they had their moment with daddy.
One thing was for sure, daddy was surrounded by the people who loved and cared for him the most before he was taken off of life support.
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