Round Eight: Heartbreak pt 1

It's taken me longer to write this post. Writing these memories means that I am reliving them in my head. My mind is back in the moment and this chapter is hard to relive. My head was in a tornado that night. Even now as I prepare to delve back into the darkness of that night... my heart is racing. With a deep breath and tissue at hand... my mind travels back.

It's close to midnight on June 18, 2005. Momma and I are watering our newly planted flowers and the hanging baskets on the porch. I squeal because a frog jumped at me. Momma laughs and turns the sprayer towards the frog. She tumbles it off the porch with a burst of water. We laugh harder and harder at each frog as she sends them off the porch with a watery send off.

In mid laugh,  Momma sharply inhaled.  Again... and again. I spin around to face her. She drops the hose and grabs the rail,  her face ashen and devoid of color. She is making a God awful noise I'll never forget and words cannot describe.  Between the weezy gasps, she tells me to get the orange juice,  she thought her blood sugar had bottomed out.  The past week she had been getting used to a diabetic life style. She was just diagnosed a week ago.

I fling open the front door and sprint into the kitchen. My hands shaking I grab the orange juice and a cup. I pour the orange juice while running back into the living room. Orange juice is splashing everywhere as I round the corner of the dinning room. I look up and see Momma lowering herself to the floor beside the door. She is loosing consciousness.  I kneel down in front of her and grab her chin. I put the glass to her lips and tip it back. Orange juice runs down her face. "Momma! DRINK! " I pleaded. She is going in and out. I tip her head with the glass this time. She gurgles. "I'm calling 911, Momma! " she barely nods.

I call and the operator walks me through CPR. I follow her instructions,  but everytime I blew air in it came straight back out sounding like a wet balloon deflating. My guess was her airway had completely shut. After what seemed to be an eternity,  the paramedics arrived. I felt physically sick watching them work on her. The worst feeling was when they put the automated defibrillator on her and it kept saying,  "no pulse." My mouth instantly felt like the Sahara desert and my knees betrayed me.

They loaded her on the stretcher and continued working as they loaded her. They asked if I was going to ride or follow. Ride or follow? ! What about Daddy? !?! Oh,  God!  It was then I could hear him sobbing and calling my name. "Whats going on? !" He cried. I turned to the EMS worker,  "my dad is sick,  I can't leave him... can you pleeeeeease take him with us? " He said he was sorry but he couldn't.

My mind raced... I did the only thing I could think to do. I told the EMS to hold on and ran next door. I scared my neighbor,  but when she came to the door I begged her to come sit with daddy while I went with Momma.  I'm sure about 90 percent of what I said was unintelligible, but she agreed. I ran in and told daddy I loved him and I had to go with Momma. He asked if she was okay... I tried to keep a straight face as I said "I don't know. I love you! " and I ran out.

We arrived at the hospital and I walked around to the ER entrance. Me and my teddy bear, I grabbed him at the last second, were escorted to the quiet room. FYI... quiet rooms are never good.   

Round Seven: The Monster vs My Hero

June begins and its all a proceedure. Sun up, sun down... days blur together.  June 12, 2005- Momma and Daddy's 29th wedding anniversary.  I don't remember much,  there was a palpable feeling of saddness in the air. I do remember Momma leaning over to tell Daddy happy anniversary,  kissing him on the cheek. She left the room afterwords... my guess was she went to cry.

The week before Father's day was filled with dread for me. I couldn't stomach it being his last. He was also very emotional. It was one thing to be able to put on a happy face and be the cheerleader everyday under our new reality, but I could NOT handle my Daddy crying. It cut me to the core. As a Daddy's girl,  it boggles your mind to see your hero weep like a lost child. I had got my acceptance letter from Georgia College and State University. I went in to show Daddy... and watched as his lip quivered and he let loose a heart wrenching sob. I hugged him as the hot tears from my own eyes stung my cheeks. I held him as his sobs calmed,  but I did not allow my breathing to change. I didn't let him know I was crying. I couldn't.

Saturday, June 18, 2005.
I was piddling around the house,  doing much of nothing. I walk down stairs and see Momma on the couch. She's wipeing her eyes in a way trying not to be noticable. I notice the movie on the TV. The Notebook, the end of it. "Yeah... THAT movie..." I said to her pointing at the TV. "YEAH..." I continued "I'm gonna water the flowers." I stepped out on the porch.

Little did I know, that was the beginning of the end of the life I had known for 18 years.

http://m.youtube.com/#/watch?v=vTnWFT3DvVA&desktop_uri=%2Fwatch%3Fv%3DvTnWFT3DvVA

Mid-Fight Report: ALS News

http://www.alsa.org/news/archive/new-findings-rna-role.html

Exciting find about the cause of ALS. With more discoveries like this,  the closer they are to a cure!

Round Six: The Monster is Real

May was the big month. Graduation. At school I felt half present, my morning routine kept getting longer as the Monster drained more and more strength from Daddy. I was getting up at 530 and getting to school with barely enough time to go to homeroom. I'm sure I looked like a rag-a-muffin,  no make up and sopping wet hair everyday. I was over high school. I guess I could blame the Monster for that,  too.

People starting bringing Daddy equiptment. I didn't know til later,  but it was the wonderful ALS association. They brought him a lift chair that he could get in and out of easier. My first blow of reality came when I was in the wrong place at the wrong time. The ALSA lady was talking with Momma and Daddy in the bedroom. The door was almost shut all the way,  but open just enough so as I passed by the door I heard her say,  "A trach will only prolong your life... its not a permanent solution." My heart dropped. It is real. He isn't going to get better.

Oh,  and I believe I have failed to mention- I didn't know the monster's name. Not yet... I did not know Daddy had been diagnosed. Its not as if I was unaware that Daddy was not going to get better, no... I was aware. It just had never been confirmed to me. I just think Momma couldn't tell me, because she needed me to be the cheerleader. She needed my optimism to get her through.

The big day came. Honestly,  its still a blur.  I know that if it hadn't have been for my awesome family,  my Daddy would have missed the whole thing. It was a true blessing he was able to make it. It was the second to last time he left the house.

My graduation party is a blur too. Honestly,  trying to remember it, visualize it in my mind is difficult. If I could project my memory of it on a screen it would consist of voices and blurred faces spinning in a haze. There are only a few moments of clarity. I remember walking barefoot on the driveway. Taking pictures with my friend. Taking pictures with my cake. Most of all,  I remember the feeling that everyone felt sorry for me. Not in a mean,  intentional way... but rather,  sad knowing what was going on and what was inevitably around the bend.

After the party,  Momma started showing signs of severe fatigue.  I would get Daddy in the bed and go into the living room only to find her passed out on the couch. I would then wake her and see that she got to bed.

The Monster was siphoning strength from Daddy, but it was also breaking Mommas heart.

Round Five: The Move into The Corner

So,  April came and so did the move to the new house. I never knew how exhausting it could be... but I sure found out. I also found out the difficulty of making choices. I was supposed to go to my senior prom that next weekend. I didn't go. I felt terrible,  my best friend had bought my ticket and dress... but the move and adjusting to a new routine was all I could handle.

One of the last times Daddy came outside the bedroom was two days after we moved in. I was on Spring Break. I felt like we were two kids... it was hilarious. Momma was gone and we were up to no good. I put daddy in the rollie computer chair and wheeled him into the kitchen. We decided we would have pizza rolls for a snack. Well... pizza rolls must cook and we got bored. I looked at daddy,  smiled and said,  "Ya know... this floor plan looks an awful lot like a racetrack! " He chuckled, "Yeah..." and  and then grinned. I jumped up and got behind him in the rollie chair. "Hold on to yer britches, Bub! " and we were off!  I ran him around the downstairs "racetrack". We laughed til our bellies hurt,  then ate some pizza rolls. We got busted by Momma when she got home. She yelled at us cause the chair left a few scuff marks on the new hardwood floor. Opps.

The monster was continuing the fight. Daddy had only enough strength in his legs to hold his weight, he couldn't move them on his own. So when I went back to school that next week,  I had a new routine. I had to wake up at six and hop in the shower. Get dressed. Get daddy out of bed, which involved a procedure of pulling him up to a sitting position, pick his legs up and swing him around to the side of the bed. Then,  I would pretty much bear hug him and help him shimmy over to a chair and sit him down. I would then make him breakfast,  feed him,  fill up his water mug,  make sure he could reach his straw and program the shows he wanted to watch to automatically switch. I would throw myself two biscuits in the microwave,  throw them in a ziplock, and sprint out the door by 7. Momma would come home on her lunch break to feed him and let him go potty. Then I would come home right after school.

The monster had all of us in the corner,  but the fight was not over yet.

Commercial Break: Song for Daddy

This song nails it. It kills me that verse 2 never happened for me,  though. I wish more than anything the Monster could have waited til Daddy walked me down the aisle...

You Can Let Go-  Crystal Shawanda

"Wind blowin' on my face
Sidewalk flyin' beneath my bike
A five year-old's first taste
Of what freedom's really like
He was runnin' right beside me
His hand holdin' on the seat
I took a deep breath and hollered
As I headed for the street

You can let go now,
DaddyYou can let go
Oh, I think I'm ready
To do this on my own
It's still a little bit scary
But I want you to know
I'll be ok now, Daddy
You can let go

I was standin' at the altar
Between the two loves of my life
To one I've been a daughter
To one I soon would be a wife
When the preacher asked,
‘Who gives this woman?'
Daddy's eyes filled up with tears
He kept holdin' tightly to my arm
‘Till I whispered in his ear
You can let go now, Daddy
You can let go
Oh, I think I'm ready
To do this on my own
It still feels a little bit scary
But I want you to know
I'll be ok now, Daddy
You can let go

It was killin' me to see
The strongest man I ever knew
Wastin' away to nothin'
In that hospital room
‘You know he's only hangin' on for you'
That's what the night nurse said
My voice and heart were breakin'
As I crawled up in his bed,
and said

You can let go now, Daddy
You can let go
Your little girl is ready
To do this on my own
It's gonna be a little bit scary
But I want you to know
I'll be ok now, Daddy
You can let go
You can let go

Round Four: Sucker Punched

Chaos incarnate is packing a home of 28 years with a pack rat... on top of caring for Daddy,  going to school,  and trying to keep up a social life. The social life had to go. Not to mention the stress of it all was making me reclusive anyway.

By February, I was taking my lunch break at home. I was blessed to be in the teacher cadet program and my wonderful teacher (love her to pieces still to this day! ) allowed me to go home after I completed my alloted time at the Elementary School. I would go home and fix my and daddy's lunch. We invented and modified utensils for him to eat with. Daddy was very smart at designing things and he would tell me how to make it. His fork was a plastic fork from Wendy's with napkins balled up and covered with duck tape to make it easy to hold with his limited grip. I enjoyed those times as well. Just being with him.

We had gotten used to the new ways of doing things. I thought that we had things figured out. The Monster was determined to prove me wrong. It was probally March at this point. I'm lying in bed,  almost asleep and I hear a loud thud. I sit up and listen intently. "KRISTEN! " momma yells.
I run in their room, hurdle the bed and stop in the doorway to their bathroom. Momma was helping Daddy back to the bedroom when his legs gave way.

Anyone who knew my Daddy, knew he wasn't one to ask for help. He was of the upbringing that a man didn't ask for help... he just did what needed to be done. So, seeing him lying on the floor,  completely helpless was something I could barely stomach. The Monster had delivered a sucker punch. I shook my feelings aside and tried to help. Momma was no bigger than a noodle at this point and Daddy was still a good 300+ pounds. So I told Momma to move and I went at it. I tried every point of leverage I could. I rolled him, tried putting my legs under him... it was useless. My 160 pound, 5'3" frame was no match to his 300 pound 6' frame of dead weight. I felt like crying because I couldn't help and the longer he was lying there... the more he hurt. He didn't like it,  but we finally had to call the paramedics.

The monster let us know that night that he was still there and he wasn't finished.