Its a new day, and guess what..we're all still alive and kicking. Alas new developments...I'm on my way back home from a potential client lunch in orange county when my mom calls me. "Your dads appointment is at 3:00 instead of 3:30, can you bring him to me or take him?" My response "Sure I'll take him..." I get home, the TV is still on, I cut it off, and attempt to do some work before we have to head out, as I'm working from home today (no Halloween traffic for me!)! As my phone buzzes letting me know it's about 15 minutes until we need to leave, I open the door to wake up who I thought was sleeping father. HE'S NOT THERE!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I yell dad, I look in the backyard, I look in the bathroom, check my moms room one more time...to no avail. (not again) He is lost!!!!! My parents have been here for about a month now and my dad has now gone missing for the 3rd time. 1st time my mom found him and my dog about .8 miles away, 2nd time the police found him about 3.5 miles away...this time I call my mom, let her know the scoop. She's headed home from work, I hop in my car and begin the search. No MRI today :/ He likes to be around people, so I stick to the main streets, up and down and around I go. I go to the spots he was found, I head to the park and places he's talked about from his walks alone and with my mom. Nothing. I drive by an ambulance and as I pass I do slowly to see if he might be inside, I don't see anyone so I hit a U turn at the next intersection to get a glimpse from another angle of the paramedic...still no one. I head home, call my mom, tell her I haven't found him, ask her to call the police...then I wait.
NUMB
That's the only way I can feel...I don't cry, I don't get mad, I just sit numb in my thoughts. I sit outside to wait for the cops and bring my laptop out with me to try to do a little work. I do get a bit of research done for the project, but as soon as I get in the groove of that, my mom pulls up. The police still haven't made it. "Guess they'll get here when they get here...they're taking their sweet time this time," she says. My mom goes in the house to change from her work clothes and comes back to the front, and just as I head inside, the police pull up. A sweet woman comes to the door, as Xabi tries to greet our guests, the male cop loves him. They ask for my mom, she comes right out. They begin conversing and my phone rings. I don't recognize the number, I answer, "Emily?" she asks. I said "I'm sorry, you have the wrong number." She says "Is your father Matthew?" I said "Yes! Who is this?" (she must have said Amber Reed...can sound like Emily if you say it really fast) Turns out he's in the hospital in Huntington Park. The lady cop takes down the address and phone number and replies that they will head there as well to make sure there's been no trauma. The nurse on the phone asks me his medical issues, and explains he seems to be confused. I still feel numb, in a zombieesque state, I'm not overly excited in the tone of my voice that they found him, or better yet that he remembered my phone number, but inside I definitely feel a deep sense of relief...Thank God! Source! Thank you Jesus! Whoever I should be thanking thank you! My mom gathers his information, medication etc. and we head out. "You're driving." She says. That's fine with me...let's just go make sure he's okay.
Somehow I knew in my heart that he was in a paramedic or ambulance...something pulled me to turn back around to look in that paramedic...I wonder if that was the paramed that did pick him up?! Hmmm
Nevertheless 20 minutes later we get to the hospital. A small quaint place with parking in the back. We see the police car, but no one inside. My mom and I head to the entrance. We wait patiently in the queue...he's in bed #3, "Thank you" I said. We go to the guard to sign in..."Only one at a time" he says. This is crazy! My father, Lord knows what happened to him is sick and was brought in by an ambulance, but I can't even go see him, what if he needs me, what if he dies in the next 10 minutes, I won't even get to talk to him, touch his still warm and lively body...all this flashes through my thoughts in a matter of seconds, before I even attempt to sit down in a chair and the waiting room and as my mom is escorted past the "security" door to the back. I jump on my phone to distract myself. She comes out fairly quickly and asks me to go back and talk to the nurse as I was the last one to see him and talk through this story he is recalling from his ordeal.
I get to the back see him and she immediately escorts me out of the room to chat. (I still can't talk to him to see if he's okay) She pulls me in another room and begins whispering...(why are we whispering?) He says you walked the dog this morning and he took some vitamins and he followed you to walk the dog and you got lost and he was trying to find you. Is this her story or his? I explain that I did walk my dog and he might have taken his vitamins and/or meds, but I don't know. I mean...IS MY DAD OKAY?!?! I walk away from her to find him being hauled off to get a cat-scan as the doctor wants to make sure he hasn't hit his head or anything too serious.
I head back out to the waiting room to meet my mom. She goes back in. Comes back out. We wait...Maury is playing in the waiting room "you are not the father!" Maury exclaims!!! The crowd cheers, the lucky not the father runs through the crowd gathering high fives. I can't believe this show is still on, I think to myself. We wait some more. My mom is hungry...she goes back inside, and now they want to do a chest x-ray. Ultimately my dad is going to be transported to Kaiser to be observed for three days, but this place is doing their due diligence before the transport...or are they?! My mom and I question their need for testing vs their need for money as they will be billing the insurance company...he's on Medi-Cal..thanks tax payers (ahem...myself included).
We eat next store at Jack in the Crack. Getting out of the hospital lightens the mood a bit. Shes exhausted from a full days work, I'm tired from driving, and cleaning, and searching, and waiting and waiting. My tacos are cold...I can't have cold tacos and be stressed out...somethings got to give. I give the cashier my two tacos back, and he brings me out 4 fresh ones...not cold, but not hot...I love my food hot...I'm hungry, so I eat.
We head back to the small hospital to wait some more. My phone is dead...my mom is dead tired as she nods off. "Was I snoring?" She wakes up. She wasn't...it's time to go home. My dad was going to be transported to a Kaiser hospital and my mom didn't want to drive to the hospital just to sit around some more. I mean I get it, he is okay, and it would give the caregiver(s) a bit of a break. She goes in to break the news to him. (I keep doing the double/twin wording in this post lol) She comes out..."he's mad, can you go talk to him and say goodbye."
I head to the back to talk to my dad..finally first time to get a real chat alone, and we're leaving. He's in his little bed...the small hospital is packed..there are 2 others in his room, at least there's a curtain separating them. "Hey dad!" He begins telling me the story of how he got lost. He also tells me how my mom brought him a 7UP when he wanted juice or water. (She said he said he wanted a 7UP, and he downed it when she brought it and said it was good. I believe her.) I told him that I needed to go home and take care of Xabi. He says I already did...I told him that was in the morning and now it's 7pm. He says okay go take care of him. "Are you okay?" I asked. He said he was, just a bit cold because of the one sheet he had. We talked a minute or two more about how they were treating him at the hospital. "I love you Amber" "I love you too dad" I grab his hand and head out.
We get home exhausted...I still have to walk Xabi. No Halloween party for me tonight...although my neighbor is still texting me to come over right now for his gathering. Needless to say I'm not going.
My chest still feels as though there are a ton of bricks on it. I somehow manage to get my continuing education requirement complete as this was the last day to finish it before I started typing this.
::exhale::
I feel a bit of a weight lifted as I finish this. There was a bit of time while I was waiting in the hospital where I reminisced about the dad that picked me up from the airport after basketball camp, my number one cheerleader, he was always excited and energetic about life. I think back and think about how I can't even access a lot of our good memories right now, although their are tons. Theres a smile on my face...water builds in my eyes. I can't cry, not now. He's alive...I have to be strong for mom, for me.
My mom is passed out, Xabi's passed out...I'm ready to do the same..
TTFN
Friday, October 31, 2014
Thursday, October 30, 2014
The weak moments
So I've thought about writing about this numerous times...but out of sight, kinda out of mind a little bit right. Aside from the random calls from mom asking for help taking to the doctor or even calls from him (when his phone isn't broke).
I come home to a full house. My brother is home and in his room sleep, my dad greets me when I walk in the door asking if I've had a blessed day, pretty much making an assumption that's its been great because this is the day that God has made. My mom and my sister are in my moms room chatting.
My parents just moved in 3 weeks ago...
I wanted to write a post maybe a week ago, but somehow got distracted with other things that 30 somethings get distracted in from the daily happenings of life and responsibilities.
So I walk in the house from a full day of a 3.5 hour interview in downtown then heading to my freelance gig in Beverly hills after, to heading back to downtown for a friends birthday gathering; to overhear the conversation..."maybe he can move in with grandpa, there's plenty of grown men living there" for me to interject "you know he'll definitely be neglected there"!
Flashback to last Friday...I get a text from mom as I'm in class in Thousand Oaks "Dad is missing". Now this isn't the first time this is happened since they moved in. The week before he was lost again maybe found .8 miles away with my dog Xabi (Zah-Bee) looking like he is about to fall backward from walking for 3 hours. Only this time dad has been missing for 5 hours and the police has been called. There is a slight debate in my mind about whether I should leave class and drive home...mom sounds calm and in her natural demeanor as if this is a natural occurrence. Even if it's only for a split second, I kind of regret the thought, but my thought is, we'll find him...we always do, he'll be okay. (Once we thought we lost him in the city of New York when my family came to visit for my graduation from graduate school at NYU, only to find dad in the same movie theater but different movie that we were already in.). Nevertheless I leave after a minute of thought to head out to help mom and my bro look for dad. I get home an hour later, ask where they've looked, go in and change out of my business attire and get ready to head out to search when the police tell me they believe they've found someone who fits the description of my dad....HUGE sigh of relief! (I knew they'd find him, I could feel it in my soul)
Why has it become so natural to say the things that we say? Why is it so easy to think "we'll find him" and not panic?
My dad has Multiple Sclerosis.
He's had the ailment for the past 15 years or so.
After my sister left my house, as my mom and dad had a slight tiff about him placing his urine soaked (and I don't know what other smells permeate the fabric) outside...I felt a sense of despair. Not only for my mom, or my dad, but our family in general. How much longer can we keep this up? How can we keep going through this?
Now I am not writing this for sympathy or people to cry out poor you. I am writing this to aid myself as a sense of relief from the day to day.
I work on remaining as positive as possible, looking on the bright side of things. We could definitely be worse off, we could be living in the streets, I couldn't have a father, he could be confined to a wheelchair, or even gone by now...alas, he is still alive, can still walk on his own two feet (even if it's only for a certain amount of time), and can remember almost everything, for the most part. Sometimes though, it's tough...the tears well up in my eyes as I get to this point in the post. I sit and wonder at times...how did he get to this point? Is there a better way to "cure" himself? How does anyone get to this point in life? How does he continue to sit here day in and day out watching TV, walking the blocks, and laying around all day? I mean sometimes I can answer these questions, but EVERY SINGLE DAY?!?! It pains me to look in his eyes and see the pain, the regret, the lost hope, the sickness. To see my mom who was once so full of life, stressed, strained, unexcited about life, the energy and soulfulness continually being sucked out of her. Again, how do you get to this point in life? Like what has to occur, what has he done, what path has he taken, what path has she taken, what path am I taking to wind up in this, this world, this realm of being?!?!
So I work on myself daily...I work on being strong for me, for my family. They say you are what you think about most, and your thoughts manifest reality, so I work on my thoughts, and project as much of the positive and success and abundance and so many other things as possible...and then I get to points like this and I can't help but slump over and drop my head and think sorrowful thoughts, and I can't help but wonder if I'm contributing to the ailment and to the perpetual cycle of the world that we are all currently living in. And is it okay for me to feel this way, or is it wrong, and then it's like why can't I feel down sometimes, I can't always be up (or can I), because what is this creating for myself and my life? Is it really this complicated or am I over thinking things? My words are also powerful, so by writing this am I again contributing to the condition that we are in. Ugh...>!!>!>!
My head in my palms...I can't do much more than exhale. Not knowing what to do next...
show me the way...I'm listening
I come home to a full house. My brother is home and in his room sleep, my dad greets me when I walk in the door asking if I've had a blessed day, pretty much making an assumption that's its been great because this is the day that God has made. My mom and my sister are in my moms room chatting.
My parents just moved in 3 weeks ago...
I wanted to write a post maybe a week ago, but somehow got distracted with other things that 30 somethings get distracted in from the daily happenings of life and responsibilities.
So I walk in the house from a full day of a 3.5 hour interview in downtown then heading to my freelance gig in Beverly hills after, to heading back to downtown for a friends birthday gathering; to overhear the conversation..."maybe he can move in with grandpa, there's plenty of grown men living there" for me to interject "you know he'll definitely be neglected there"!
Flashback to last Friday...I get a text from mom as I'm in class in Thousand Oaks "Dad is missing". Now this isn't the first time this is happened since they moved in. The week before he was lost again maybe found .8 miles away with my dog Xabi (Zah-Bee) looking like he is about to fall backward from walking for 3 hours. Only this time dad has been missing for 5 hours and the police has been called. There is a slight debate in my mind about whether I should leave class and drive home...mom sounds calm and in her natural demeanor as if this is a natural occurrence. Even if it's only for a split second, I kind of regret the thought, but my thought is, we'll find him...we always do, he'll be okay. (Once we thought we lost him in the city of New York when my family came to visit for my graduation from graduate school at NYU, only to find dad in the same movie theater but different movie that we were already in.). Nevertheless I leave after a minute of thought to head out to help mom and my bro look for dad. I get home an hour later, ask where they've looked, go in and change out of my business attire and get ready to head out to search when the police tell me they believe they've found someone who fits the description of my dad....HUGE sigh of relief! (I knew they'd find him, I could feel it in my soul)
Why has it become so natural to say the things that we say? Why is it so easy to think "we'll find him" and not panic?
My dad has Multiple Sclerosis.
He's had the ailment for the past 15 years or so.
After my sister left my house, as my mom and dad had a slight tiff about him placing his urine soaked (and I don't know what other smells permeate the fabric) outside...I felt a sense of despair. Not only for my mom, or my dad, but our family in general. How much longer can we keep this up? How can we keep going through this?
Now I am not writing this for sympathy or people to cry out poor you. I am writing this to aid myself as a sense of relief from the day to day.
I work on remaining as positive as possible, looking on the bright side of things. We could definitely be worse off, we could be living in the streets, I couldn't have a father, he could be confined to a wheelchair, or even gone by now...alas, he is still alive, can still walk on his own two feet (even if it's only for a certain amount of time), and can remember almost everything, for the most part. Sometimes though, it's tough...the tears well up in my eyes as I get to this point in the post. I sit and wonder at times...how did he get to this point? Is there a better way to "cure" himself? How does anyone get to this point in life? How does he continue to sit here day in and day out watching TV, walking the blocks, and laying around all day? I mean sometimes I can answer these questions, but EVERY SINGLE DAY?!?! It pains me to look in his eyes and see the pain, the regret, the lost hope, the sickness. To see my mom who was once so full of life, stressed, strained, unexcited about life, the energy and soulfulness continually being sucked out of her. Again, how do you get to this point in life? Like what has to occur, what has he done, what path has he taken, what path has she taken, what path am I taking to wind up in this, this world, this realm of being?!?!
So I work on myself daily...I work on being strong for me, for my family. They say you are what you think about most, and your thoughts manifest reality, so I work on my thoughts, and project as much of the positive and success and abundance and so many other things as possible...and then I get to points like this and I can't help but slump over and drop my head and think sorrowful thoughts, and I can't help but wonder if I'm contributing to the ailment and to the perpetual cycle of the world that we are all currently living in. And is it okay for me to feel this way, or is it wrong, and then it's like why can't I feel down sometimes, I can't always be up (or can I), because what is this creating for myself and my life? Is it really this complicated or am I over thinking things? My words are also powerful, so by writing this am I again contributing to the condition that we are in. Ugh...>!!>!>!
My head in my palms...I can't do much more than exhale. Not knowing what to do next...
show me the way...I'm listening
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