Unwanted options

Microblog_MondaysSince the accident, I’ve been working under the assumption that we have two options:

1.My father is stabilized, eventually gets out of the ICU and the hospital, and we do whatever we can to find him the resources he needs so that he can live a meaningful life.

2.My father decides he cannot live a meaningful life in this new reality and opts to refuse care and die.

I’ve been back in town for a couple of days now. In the last week, my father just has not been able to catch a break. He developed pneumonia. The halo they fitted him with failed to stabilize his neck, so now he will need a relatively risky surgery instead (which will in turn delay the tracheostomy, continuing his frustration at his inability to communicate). He had a raging fever, probably from the pneumonia, although we weren’t entirely sure at first, which meant the surgery had to be delayed indefinitely.

Watching him go through this, I belatedly realized that there was a third option:

3. My father wants to live, and we do everything we can to get him stabilized and recovered, but too many other factors intervene, and he dies anyway.

His fever, as of today, is in retreat, and I feel like he’s dodged another bullet. But I just don’t know how many more we’re facing.

This post is part of #MicroblogMondays. To read the inaugural post and find out how you can participate, click here.





Filed under Family, Microblog Mondays

7 responses to “Unwanted options

  1. Life in intensive care is inevitably filled with lots of two steps forward, one step back moments. He’s a strong, fit man, so I suspect he has a great deal more reserve than someone who contracts pneumonia with a whole list of comorbidities. So he’ll get through this, but you’re right- there will be more to come. Hang in there. You know where I am if you need to chat. xoxo

  2. This must be such a heart wrenching situation. Love to your family and prayers for your father to be able to receive his trach soon, I think the ability to communicate is so important for his mental health.

  3. Oh my heart is breaking for you. I am so so sorry you are dealing with this. I know from following you here that you are an incredibly strong individual and I know that will sustain you, whatever the outcome. Hoping for the best!!!

  4. Mel

    What a fucking awful situation that keeps circling through different and equally awful permutations. I wish that words were enough, though I know they’re not. I wish I could hug you through the computer. You are right — there is no rhyme, no reasons. Life just feels really really fragile.

  5. I am so sorry that you are all having to walk this road.

  6. Here through the RoundUp. So, so sorry to hear this news. Holding your entire family in my thoughts.

  7. Abiding with you and sending hugs. This is hard, so hard. Take care of yourself.

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