I've Never Been More Proud

8:00 am:

Me: Good Morning, can I speak to the nurse taking care of William Yau?

Receptionist: Please hold......(holding....holding....holding....aww come on, report's over..what's going on??)....hold on please.

Jason: CICU, this is Jason.

Me: Hi, this is William's daughter, are you the nurse taking care of him today?

Jason: Yes, I am.

Me: How did he do last night? Is he alright?

Jason: Oh, he's doing great! I actually have him up sitting in a chair, and he's eating breakfast.

Me: WHAT??? Oh my GOD!!!! (Scott wonders WTF is going on) You mean, he's extubated? He's sitting up? He's EATING???

Jason: Yes, yes! Your father's actually doing really well. He finally woke up this morning around 5:30, and we extubated him at around 6:30. His blood gases have been really good since then!

I am elated. I haven't been this excited and happy in a long time. I jump out of bed, run into the shower, and I'm out the door by nine. I absolutely can not wait to see him.

I get to the hospital and find parking, and by 9:30, I'm walking briskly past the atrium where my husband, my mom, and I waited all day yesterday. I see new families camped out there today, some wrapped in blankets, sleeping- some on the computer, some reading, some staring off into space. I think to myself that I'm happy that I'm not there anymore, and then I think that its CRAZY that I was just there yesterday, and today my Dad is sitting up and eating.

I get to his room, and there he was. Sitting up in his chair. He was sleeping, and the breakfast tray sitting in front of him was empty. I walked in quietly, with a huge smile on my face, and just as I put my bag full of books and magazines down, he looked up, smiled, and said, "hi tilly! ohhhh good daughter"! I give him the biggest hug ever, and I have never been more proud.

He's doing exceptionally well. And I'm in awe of medicine today, where aggressive recovery is actually supposed to work better than slow rest. Through the course of today, they've taken out his swan (a catheter threaded into his heart chambers to monitor cardiac function and output), one of his art lines, and two JP drains. The PICU nurse in me was like, "are you SURE you need to take all of that out now?" Back in my day, that stuff stayed in just in case. Back in my day, I think, things were different. God, I'm old. I talked to Dad's nurse practitioner, and she agreed. Protocols have changed recently in the last 5 years. When she was just a mere bedside cardiac nurse, the post op patients remained tubed, paralyzed and sedated for at least the evening, and into mid morning the next day. This is all just crazy.

He had lunch, took another nap, and then went for a walk. That's right, you heard me, a WALK. The physical therapist, nurse, mom and I all rolled up our sleeves and got him presentable, packed up his remaining chest tubes and lines, hooked him up to the portable monitor, and went on our merry way. He took off down the hallway, prompting the physical therapist to tell him to slow down. I kept asking mom to ask Dad if he was dizzy, if he hurt anywhere....all Dad would say was, "yeah...sure...no problem." He'd walked past others in the hall and smile, and do the "thumbs up" sign. Its all unbelievable.

We got him tucked back into bed....and he got a percocet. He went to sleep immediately, with a very very happy look on his face, like he had climbed a mountain. And he has. He definitely has. There were no other concerns today, except for minor fluctuations in his blood pressure. They have a target goal for him, to keep his pressures lower than 110 systolic- for his new aorta. But, they also don't want it to be lower than 80 systolic. And it's dipped that low a few times today, scaring me, of course- but just another day in the office for these nurses. Its also been high as well today- but apparently that's been a good indication of pain for him (because he consistently denies any pain verbally), and he'd get percocet, and his blood pressure would come back down.

I'm home now, and I miss him. I can't wait to see him again tomorrow. He'll be transferred to the step-down, or telemetry unit tomorrow- if all goes well this evening. And it will.

And I've never EVER been more proud of my Dad.