Stroke of Luck

All Rainbows and Unicorns

2011-12-03T00:20:00.001-07:00

My Superheroes story was written in Fall of 2007. It has now been four and half years since my dad's stroke. I wish I could tell you that life is all rainbows and unicorns but that simply isn't true. There are bad days and good days. I would like to be all inspiring and tell you that we have found a way to rise above it all but that fact is we are human. We haven't risen above it. We may put on a happy face but it just masks the pain.

I am constantly asked how my dad is and how my family is handling it. While I truly appreciate those who genuinely care, I have to tell you that I hate that question. How am I supposed to answer that question? He isn't dying but he isn't great either. How do you explain to someone that my dad had to learn to walk again, and learn to live with the use of only one hand while the other just hangs from the shoulder, and his ability for driving has been limited? He can no longer play the guitar, go backpacking by himself, or have normal cognitive reasoning like the rest of us have. The things he once loved to do, have now become challenges. He is no longer the person he wishes he was. I can see it in his eyes how badly he wishes he could go back five years.

Sometimes when people have asked me that question I have actually answered "he's alive." I know how lucky I am that he is alive when he could have died. I try to tell myself each day that I should appreciate what I have while others have lost or are losing their loved ones. I know that there are people out there who are in worse situations than the one I am in. However, this does not console me. I really try and then when I get upset or down on myself, I just feel guilty about how ungrateful I am being. But frankly, I am just so angry.

My father's stroke has affected me on so many levels that I can't begin to delve into the specifics. I ask myself and "God" why this happened all the time. Is there some important lesson that I am supposed to learn? If there is, I haven't found it yet. Someone recently told that God doesn't let things happen to people who can't handle them. I think that is some one's way of making them feel better about what comes their way. Honestly, I don't know how much more I can bend before I break. But if what this person says is true, God has a lot more faith in me than I do in myself and in him.

Despite all the anger and sadness, I keep on keeping on. I wake up each morning and take on the day. I love my family so much and I am so thankful for having them. I try to look at the positive and appreciate the improvements and the accomplishments that my dad makes. And although today may not be all rainbows and unicorns, I try to remind myself that tomorrow will be.

Conclusion to only the Beginning

2011-10-12T01:01:00.002-06:00

I wrote this story for a class in fall of 2007. I thought after a year of not posting, that I should finish the story. It has been 4 years since my dad's stroke so I thought now would be a good time to move forward and tell you what has been happening since this story ended.

Stay Tuned...

Now back to the story

My dad had finally progressed to a point where he could go up and down the stairs. In the beginning, he always had to have someone watching him. When he would go down the stairs, he would have to go down facing backwards. Since my dad was still paralyzed in the left arm, we had to put a railing on the right wall also, since the railing we had was on his left side.

One day my boyfriend(now my husband) and I were hanging out at my house. My dad was upstairs hanging out and my mom was cleaning. My dad decided that he wanted to go downstairs. My mom was busy and had asked us to help him down the stairs. I asked my boyfriend to watch from behind and I would watch from the front. I figured that if I were to watch from the back and he were to fall, I would go down with him. It was image that I didn’t find appealing. I watched my dad has he gripped the railing firmly with his right hand. He would slowly swing his left leg out and backward and then would lower his left leg down onto the next step. His right leg was obviously moving more smoothly than the left leg. My eyes became filled with tears. I was happy that my dad was getting his life back, but I assumed the first time I was helping someone walk up the stairs for the first time, that someone would be my child. I couldn’t get the image of my dad in his hiking boots, wearing his cowboy hat with his backpack strapped on out of my mind. This man could hike for miles, and now he is struggling to go down the stairs. It was a slap in the face. Last year my dad made a comment that he wanted to get all the backpacking in he could because he thought it might be his last year to go. I thought that he was silly for making that comment. How could someone with his determination and physical stamina not go up in the mountains for at least five more years to come? Maybe in the back of his mind he knew there would be a reason why he wouldn’t go this year.

I considered my dad’s stroke to be a cruel joke that someone was playing. He couldn’t go hiking, fishing, bowling, or even play the guitar. All of which are his favorite things. If his family were to be taken away, he would be completely stripped of the things he loved. Despite the outcome, I have yet to hear him complain or put himself down. He has never told me that he would never be able to do something. We already have plans to go camping next summer. He even speaks about when he will be able to play the guitar again.

Although his determination has been beneficial in his recovery, it has also been a hazard. One day my mom caught my dad trying to climb a ladder by himself. Another time when I was over at my parents, my dad had tried to turn on the gas fire place. My mom was cooking breakfast so we were all upstairs eating. When my dad was done eating he went downstairs. When he made it down the stairs he told us he could smell gas. Within taking two steps down the stairs, I was overwhelmed with the smell of gas. My mom ran downstairs and turned off the gas. I opened every window and door in the house to air the gas out. It was so bad they were afraid to turn on a light in fear that it would cause a spark and blow up. To make matters worse, it was cold and raining. So while we were trying to air out the house, we were freezing our asses off. Luckily since then, he has been making better decisions.

My dad’s condition is slowly improving but at least it is improving. The next obstacle we are all facing is a financial one. Since we have been home, the medical transport company has been trying to charge us sixteen-thousand dollars. That is double the amount they told us we would have to pay. If we didn’t have eight-thousand dollars then, how in the hell would we come with eight-thousand more. Then another company threatened to send us to collections because we didn’t pay the bill. My mom explained to them that we never received the bill. When she asked where they were sending the bill, it turned out they had mailed the check to our insurance company. Why the insurance company didn’t forward the bill to us, I have no idea. Since we had not paid the bill they wanted to charge us seventeen-hundred dollars. My mom was so frustrated with what she was hearing that she yelled at the company for how they were handling the situation. As a result, they arranged for her to only pay the original five-hundred dollars. With my dad out of work and my mom having retired in March, money was tight. Both my brother and I ended up having to get additional loans for school. I even had to get more financial aid from school to help out with the rest of my tuition.

Seven months have past since my dad has had his stroke. It feels like a year has gone by. Where we will be in year is unpredictable and it feels like it will be a lifetime before life is back to normal.

The truth of the matter is there are no superheroes, just people. And villains can come in any form-- even a stroke. No one lives forever and everyone can feel pain. People can sense it, people can feel it. We want to believe nothing bad will happen to our parents and that they will live forever. But even though parents aren’t superheroes, they are still heroes. They show us who we want to be and who we don’t want to be. They help us overcome our weaknesses to find our strengths. They may not live forever, but my “super” heroes will live on in me.

Adjusting

2010-10-05T15:13:00.000-06:00

For as long as I can remember my dad was strong and could do anything. I always felt that nothing would ever happen to him, and he would live forever. Now that he was home, it was like he had regressed to a child. This is a perception that children rarely see of their parents.

He needed help with all the basics like changing and eating etc.. I am not so used to seeing him so vulnerable. For safety reasons, my mom bought baby monitors to put in the family room just in case he needed us in the middle of the night.

For the first few weeks we always had to make sure someone was home with him because it was too risky leaving him by himself. However, one day we made an exception. My mom and I had to drop off the car at the mechanic. My brother was at work so he wasn’t available to stay home. We told my dad that we would be back in fifteen minutes since the mechanic was located nearby. My mom specifically told him not to get out of the chair and to wait until we got home.

Fifteen minutes later we were back home. We walked into the house and my dog greeted us with his usual hyper self. I can’t remember who walked into the room first, but I remember seeing my dad on the floor in front of the laundry room. I could feel the anxiety immediately. My mom and I quickly picked him up and off of the floor. My mom scolded my dad. I couldn’t help but wonder if this is how it would be forever. Thankfully that was his last fall. However, he scared himself enough that he would walk around with a helmet wherever he would go. Half the time he would not even buckle it on so I would not even see the point of him wearing it. My mom would tell me that he would use it for confidence so I shouldn’t make fun of him. I figured I wouldn’t say anything because I wasn’t the one going out in public with him.

Rehabilitation

2010-09-15T15:48:00.000-06:00

By the time he had arrived at Health South, he had begun to regain movement and feeling in his left leg. With this improvement they were going to work on teaching him to walk again. Even with the new movement in his legs, he was still going to have to rely on a wheel chair for awhile.

Every so often they were going to allow home visits. We had made changes to our house so that he could stay in the basement, which was accessible by our garage, so he would not have to rely on going upstairs. By the end of May and the beginning of June we had finished remodeling our upstairs. My dad wanted to see the finished upstairs but he still could not go up the stairs. My spilt-level home was located on a hill. If a person were to enter the house from the front, there would be two sets of stairs; one going up and one going down. However, if a person were to enter from the backyard, they would upstairs. So to get my dad upstairs, we had to wheel him into our backyard and take him through the back door. To take him through the back door we had to lift him up two steep stairs. We did not have a board sturdy enough to make a ramp. Once he was done looking at our new living room, we took him out the same way we brought him in.

It was the first time in my life where we all had to take care of my dad. When I was little, he would carry me to bed. When we were in the mountains, and I would think we were lost, he would lead the way. I had to do everything to keep myself from crying. This was not my dad and this is not who he wanted to be.

A couple weeks went by and my dad’s walking improved. He moved on from a walker to a cane that he still uses today. Health South was ready to release my dad home. My dad would still have therapy but it would all be done from our house.

I was relieved to have him in the house again. Due to his physical condition he would still not be able to go up and down the stairs for awhile. My dad normally would spend most of his time downstairs watching TV or working in his office anyway. Since we knew this would be where he would be most comfortable, we made a place in the family room for a twin size bed for him. We set a lamp at the top of his bed and hooked it up to a push button hanging on the wall. That way he could turn on and off the light without having to find his way in the dark. Any type of fall could seriously agitate his condition.

Back in Utah

2010-03-12T21:49:00.001-07:00

We were looking forward to taking my dad to the University of Utah hospital because we felt that it was a more reputable hospital. However, my dad’s arrival was disappointing. When my dad had arrived to the hospital, they did not even hook him up to medical devices for three hours. My mom was irate. He still needed be monitored because of the blood that was still in his brain. He was still within the period where he could have another stroke. The clot in his brain still needed to be shrunk and the other part of the clot was still in his neck. In addition to that, a pipe had broke in my dad’s room and the room was flooded. The floors were still damp and the room was humid. My mom requested a room change and they denied her request. My mom finally had to go to the administration office before they would take care of my dad, something they forgot about in their job description. It took her threatening to sue to motivate them toward some sort of positive action.

After three days in the hospital he was being released to Health South Rehabilitation center. The convenience of this was that he would be no more than five minutes away. At this hospital he would have speech therapy, physical therapy and occupational theory.

Preparing to Come Home

2010-03-02T21:00:00.002-07:00

The next couple of days were tough. My mom and I realized we only packed enough clothes for two days and we were going to be in Denver longer than that. My dad was still on another planet. He told me that when we were to go home that week that he was going to go backpacking in the mountains the next weekend. He would also repeatedly refer to my mom as “chuckles.” She finally told him that if he called her as “chuckles” one more time, that she would smack him. He had never called her that before and now he doesn’t even remember calling her by that name. Then when my uncle arrived he ended up sharing a room with us. It was the first time since I was five that I had to share a queen-sized bed with my mom. Not particularly the most comfortable situation. We felt bad for my uncle, so we didn’t feel comfortable telling him he couldn’t share a room with us.

The C.C.U. was not the most comfortable for visitors. In my dad’s room there were only two stiff chairs. The hospital does not want the C.C.U. unit too overwhelmed by visitors, but they should make it comfortable enough for who need to be there. There were only three of us there. Yet only two could be in the room at a time. They were strict about this. No reasoning made sense to me at this time. We were from out-of-state and one of us sitting in the waiting room by ourselves seemed unfair considering the circumstances. They didn’t care of course.

The bleeding finally stopped in my dad’s brain and we were ready to go home. Our goal was to fly my dad to Salt Lake City to the University of Utah hospital. My dad’s doctor in Colorado said they either needed to arrange for my dad to go to Utah, or they would keep him in rehab for about a month before sending him back. My mom looked at the options and felt staying in Denver would be too expensive. We tried to arrange with a social worker to get a medical transport home. It seemed the social worker did everything but help. My mom took it into her own hands. She called a friend in Salt Lake and we began working with a company to fly home. About after a day we were quoted eight thousand dollars for the flight home. When my mom told me the cost I could feel my stomach sink down to my feet. I couldn’t figure out where in hell we would come up with the money. As convenient as is would have been to have the money available in case of emergency, I knew we didn’t have it. I knew this was going to be overwhelming for my mom. I made sure, if need be, that I had money on my credit card for her to use. We had to come up with half down before they would transport him back to Salt Lake City.

Since the social worker was absolutely no help, my mom had contacted a friend who put us in touch with a company that would transport my dad. I think the hospital wanted to keep my dad in the hospital due to the experimental procedure done on him.

We made the final arrangements for my dad. My mom was going to fly with my dad. I had the option to fly back by myself on a commercial flight or drive back with my uncle. By the fifth day of being with him and hearing his two cents on everything, I opted out for the ten-hour drive home with him. That is saying a lot considering I am afraid to fly and this would be the first time I would fly by myself. Thank god for the forty-minute flight.

Super Heroes Continued...

2009-11-15T20:39:00.000-07:00

A couple hours later we received a phone call from my dad’s friend Dave who was at Lake Powell with him at the time of the stroke. The past few days that they had been in Lake Powell they had experienced horrible weather. It was so bad that they had to dock at a beach in a canyon for two days. On the day of my dad’s stroke, my dad’s friend Frank ended up taking a friend to the clinic at Lake Powell. They took the speed boat they had with them and made their way to the marina despite the fact it was dangerous. That morning my dad had woken up and went to use the restroom. It was at this time my dad had his stroke and collapsed. Dave and Lee, another friend, could hear my dad and found him on the bathroom floor. They picked him up and moved him to a near by bed. With the weather being so bad, and the speed boat gone, all they could do was radio for help. In the meantime, Frank was waiting at the clinic. As he was waiting he could hear Lee over the radio that was in the clinic. He heard that my dad had a stroke and that he needed to be flown to a hospital. It was at this time when Frank contacted my mom.

On that same day we received another informative phone; this time from my uncle. He called to tell us that he was on his way to Denver to come see my dad. After he spoke with my mom, he asked to speak with my dad. Due to my dad being hearing impaired, he cannot hear on cell phones. So my mom put the cell on speaker phone. My dad began to talk to my uncle. My uncle told him that he was on his way. My dad, still not understanding the severity of the situation, told my uncle that he would see him soon. My uncle told my dad that he loved him. As he told my dad this he began to cry, followed by my mom, ending with me. At this point I got up and left the room. I didn’t want to cry, least of all in front of people.

On my second full day in Denver, my uncle finally arrived. I was alone with my dad and my uncle in the hospital room, but it was as if it were just me and my uncle. My uncle begins to explain to me he had the week off for a vacation in Oregon. I felt bad because instead of being on his vacation, he was here. But my dad's stroke wasn't really why he didn't go to Oregon. The day before my dad had his stroke, my uncle's wife explained to him that she wanted a divorce. As if I did not have enough on my mind, I had to deal with my uncle's instable life. He also tells me that I am the first person he has told since it has happened. Within twenty four hours of his wife asking for a divorce he finds out his brother has had a stroke. He might as well have walked onto the highway in front of a full speed bus. It became awkward for me, I felt stuck, and I didn’t know what to say. Thankfully my mom and a nurse walked in. This gave me a moment to slide out.

Super Heroes Continued...His condition explained

2009-11-05T20:46:00.001-07:00

“You know where you are, right? You had a stroke.” She explained.
In response he said he knew what had happened. He then kept saying he wanted to back to the ninth floor. We had no idea what the ninth floor was. He went on to explain that on the ninth floor her could walk and didn’t have to wear a catheter.
“Honey,” she would explain, “You have to have the catheter. You had a stroke. You can’t walk.”

He looked at my mom and knew what she was saying, it just wasn’t registering. According to him, his room was on the ninth floor and he was walking. It was one of those experiences where I just wanted to smile and nod. I didn’t want to burst his bubble. I also did not want to think of the idea that he would never walk again either. The rest of our conversation was disconnected. He knew what happened to him and he would repeat it to us. When we finally thought he understood what was going on, he would say something off the wall. For example, he thought the nurses’ station was the loading dock at Lake Powell even though he knew he was flown to Colorado.

Visiting hours ended at midnight and that time was soon approaching. My dad had fallen asleep so there was nothing else we could do. The neurologist would not be in until the morning, so there was nothing new that we could learn about my dad’s condition.

My dad’s nurse had arranged for us to have a cab ride to the Marriot Hotel that has discounted rates through the hospital. The hotel, which is about ten minutes away from the hospital, was seventy dollars a night with the discount. This was seventy dollars that we didn’t have to spend since we were remodeling our living room at the time of my dad’s stroke. The Stratosphere in Vegas was cheaper than the discounted rate we were given.

Once we checked into the hotel we made our way to our room and straight to bed. About six in the morning my mom and I jumped up to her cell phone ringing. You could hear in her voice how startled she was. We had imagined the worse and thought we were going to receive bad news. Instead, it turns out my dad woke up and was bored. He just wanted to know where my mom was and when he was going to see us. I couldn’t believe it. He was bored. He knew he was in the hospital and rather than be concerned with his condition, he was worried about being bored. It struck me as odd.
My mom got off the phone. I don’t think she knew whether to be upset or happy. After that call she couldn’t fall back asleep. We got ready and took a shuttle to the hospital. I swear every time we took the shuttle to hospital, they took a different way each time.

When we arrived at the hospital they arranged for dad’s neurologist to speak with us. She was a spunky woman with curly brown hair with shoes that made her look like she was ready to go mountain climbing. She looked like she did not belong in a hospital.

She began to explain to us that my dad had a clot that was in his carotid artery in his neck. She said that the clot went up into the right side of his brain. This was referred to as an Ischemic stroke, which is the cause eighty-percent of strokes in Americans. She told us that there is a medication that can be applied to a stroke victim that can reverse the affects of a stroke if given in the appropriate amount of time. The first medication needed to be given within the first three hours of a stroke and the second medication needed to given within the first six hours. I kept thinking, “Then why didn’t my dad get that medication?” The doctor continued to say that since was not given the medication in time, the clot remained in his brain. As a result of that a section of his brain had died. Once a part of the brain is dead and depleted of oxygen for more than a few seconds the brain cannot be revived. The right side of the brain controls the left side and that is why he was paralyzed on his left side. Some of this was old news to me; I had learned this in psychology course.

Since my dad was unable to get the medication he needed, he still had the clot in his brain. At that time the only procedure they could do for him was to use blood thinners. The purpose of blood thinners was to keep the blood pumping past the clot and not making it any more severe than it already was. The body actually has to be the one to break down the clot. I didn’t think that was reassuring. Furthermore, we found out that after some tests he had that morning they also found that he was bleeding in the brain and the thinners were making it worse. If they stopped the thinners he could have another stroke. If they continued to use the thinners then he could die if the bleeding didn’t stop. Well this sure was a damned if you do, damned if you don’t situation. At that time they decided that it would best to keep him on the thinners. We decided it was best to trust the doctors.

Super Heroes Continued...

2009-10-24T00:31:00.001-06:00

We finally got up into the air. What was only supposed to be about a forty minute flight turned in an hour-long flight. The airport in Denver is a hub; therefore, it is one of the busiest in Midwest. It was so busy at the airport, our plane could not land, and we had to do circles in the sky for fifteen to twenty minutes. As if we weren’t anxious enough to get to the hospital, both my mother and I had to use the restroom but the fasten seatbelt sign was on. After circling in the sky a few times we finally said “Screw it!” and we unfastened our seatbelts.

Once we landed, it did not feel as though we were any closer to reaching my dad. Due to the cost of cabs, it was recommended that we use a shuttle. Once we found a shuttle to take us to the Swedish Hospital, we had to wait before leaving the airport because the shuttle would not leave until it had enough passengers. When we finally had enough passengers it seemed as though the driver took the longest possible way to the hospital. Before we could even be dropped off, we had to drop the other passenger off at another hospital.

When we finally arrived at the hospital, we had to be dropped off at the emergency room entrance because it was after hours. When we walked in we had to go through a security check with a police officer. Just another delay setting us back. The officer opened the electronic doors, and we made our way back to the Critical Care Unit. The C.C.U. contained four halls which were lettered A through D. Each hallway contained five to ten rooms. The doors were sliding glass like the ones commonly seen on patio doors.

We made our way to the nurses’ station. My mom began to tremble. A nurse greeted us. She could tell by our luggage that we were the family from Salt Lake City. She told us that before we go that she wanted to let us know that he does not look the same. The hospital preformed an experimental procedure on my dad involving lasers on his head. To do the procedure, they had to shave it. My mom began to cry, and I became scared. What was he going to look like? Was I going to recognize him? My dad has had the same hairstyle my entire life. Every month he would dye it a medium brown color leaving gray only at the sides above his ears. I had never seen my dad’s scalp except for a tiny spot on the back of his head that was thinning.

Before we walked into the room, the nurse explained to us that he had a clot go up into his brain on the right side. As a result of the clot, he was paralyzed on the whole left side. The nurse continued on to say that he could communicate; he was just a little disoriented. If he wakes up, the nurse explained that we needed to stay on his left side because he is paralyzed on that side, he would need to compensate for the damage and try to get that side working again.

We walked into the room and found my dad sound asleep. To our surprise my dad looked good with his new shaven head. In fact, he looked younger. Looking better than we thought was reassuring. Lying on the bed he looked helpless. An image I have never seen. He woke up when he heard us walk in. My mom walked up to his bedside to see how he was doing.

Super Heroes Continued...

2009-09-14T19:03:00.002-06:00

We eventually left the house for the airport. Bonnie dropped us off at out terminal where we sky capped our bags. I think that was the first time my mom had ever sky-capped. In a situation like this, I was not about to wait in line to check in our luggage.

Our gate number was B18. Although Salt Lake International Airport is probably one of the smallest international airports, B18 is one the farthest gates there. What was a ten-minute walk seemed like a lifetime. When we finally got to our gate we sat down because we were going to be that last to board according to our boarding pass.

My mom wanted to call and speak to my dad. Earlier when my dad had arrived in Denver he was awake and coherent and able to talk. My mom wanted to tell him we were on our way and wanted me to talk to him. She began speaking to him, and immediately her eyes were filled with tears. She told him that we were coming, but saying that was difficult for her. I looked at her and told her she could go to the bathroom. I took the phone and saw her walk away. I put the phone up to my ear nervously. I did not know what to expect. I did not know what someone with a stroke sounded like. But to my surprise I could understand him, and he understood the situation he was in. I told him we would be there soon and that I loved him. Then I hung up the phone.

My mom still had not come back from the bathroom. I didn’t know how to comfort her. It was the tendency for my family to hide their feelings. Anytime anything was wrong, I would hide in my room so my family couldn’t see me. I think we all did this. Being a shoulder to cry on for my mom seemed out of the ordinary.

Super Heroes Continued...

2009-06-17T21:56:00.002-06:00

My mom could not think straight. I am still amazed that as frazzled as she was, she was still able to figure out how to operate the telephone. So Bonnie had to make the flight arrangements for my mom. Bonnie wasn’t going to fly with her so my mom was going to go by herself. Since she was going by herself, I asked if she needed me to go. Her only answer that she would give me was “if you want.” This went on for a few minutes. I was becoming frustrated. She would not give me a straight answer. I had never been in a situation like this, so I did not know what was expected of me. When she finally called me back with the airfare prices, I told her I would go.

It was three o’clock. The flight was scheduled to leave around five. I rushed home. I was so lost in thought and confusion that by the time I made it home I realized that I did not even remember the drive. But I didn’t have to worry about that because I needed to pack. I grabbed whatever I could find in my closet and didn’t think twice about what it looked like. That was not the best decision, as I would soon find out.

Even though my mom had been getting ready before me, I finished packing before her. In the meantime, I went outside to talk my mom’s friends. My mom had been with Becky and Bonnie for the past two days for a girl’s trip up in Park City. My mom had just arrived home when she received the phone call from my dad’s friend to tell her what had happened. Bonnie’s husband was on the same trip as my dad when he had his stroke. Bonnie’s husband called her and told her what had happened. As soon as she found out she went straight to my house and informed Becky of the situation.

When I walked out into the garage to go outside I noticed thick and heavy grey clouds in the sky. There was a slight breeze, and I should have been wearing a jacket, but at that point I did not care. I don’t how the conservation began, but Becky and Bonnie explained to me how relieved they were that I was going with my mom to Denver. She believed that my mom was too stressed to go on her own.

My other superhero was strong--until now. I have rarely seen her cry. The only time I have seen her cry is when a family member passed away. Even then she has always managed to be discrete about her feelings. She is the one who stays together and I am the emotional one. Now, she was the emotional one and I wasn’t. Anytime I watch the news and hear a sad story I begin to well up with tears. But now when something has happened to me, m eyes remain bone dry.

I had decided in the back of my mind that there was a reason for this. My body was preparing itself. Things could get worse really fast, and my body did not want to exhaust itself yet. I kept telling myself the future was going to be the most difficult part. I didn’t know what hurdles I was going to have to jump, so I needed to stay calm. Plus, what good would that do for my mom?

Super Heroes

2009-06-13T21:51:00.002-06:00

I walked into the customer care department and went straight for Natasha’s phone. My mom explained to me that my dad had a stroke. She continued to say that due to weather, my dad and his friends could not get out of the canyon they were in. As a result, they were going to life flight him to Grand Junction. The plan was that my brother and I would stay put. My mom’s friend Bonnie was going to drive her to Grand Junction. I don’t think anyone trusted my mom to drive four and half hours by herself.

Once I got off the phone I felt my legs shaking. My manager looked over at me and asked if I was OK. I told her that I thought so. She told me if I needed to go home I could. But what good would that do? My dad and mom, from two different directions, were both on their way to Grand Junction. I couldn’t imagine sitting at home thinking the worst. My mom didn’t want me and my brother to go with her, so that idea was out the window. Plus, the information had not sunk in, so I had yet to understand the severity of the situation. I decided it was best to stay at work and keep myself busy.

About forty-five minutes later I received another phone call. I saw my mom’s number appear on the caller ID of my cell phone. I could feel my heart beat quicken, and my hands fumbled as I went to answer the phone. I listened to my mom’s calm voice. A sense of relief came over me. They were going to send my dad to Salt Lake. It was going to be a little past five when they would expect him to arrive. This bit of information made everything seem so much easier. I get off work at five so I had planned to go to the University of Utah Hospital right after. I was unsure of how to get there, but I figured that would be my last concern.

Right when I thought things were going to get easier I was wrong. It was my mom again. The weather was too bad, so they were not going to send my dad to Salt Lake. Instead, they were going to transport him to Denver. My family had never been to Denver, and I never imagined my first time there would be under these circumstances.

Super Heroes

2009-04-25T00:38:00.002-06:00

They fight crime and chase away the boogie man. They have the answers to anything and protect you from everything. When they are needed they can be there in lightening speed. They can read minds and find you when you are lost. They are the land movers and the music makers. They are the world’s superheroes. But even superheroes have bad days.

On May 3, 2007 my superhero just so happened to take a vacation with his friends down in Lake Powell, Utah. That day for me had started out cold and wet, not to mention bad. I was on my way to work, and I was only minutes away when I passed the duck pond at the Metro Business Park. On the left side of the road there was a brown speckled colored duck. A white worker van was approaching the duck. Instead of slowing down like most drivers, the van driver continued on, startling the duck. To avoid getting hit by the white van, the duck flew up into the air. However, the duck made a big mistake. Instead of flying away from the cars, he flew in front of my car. It was too late. I heard a huge thunk. I hit a duck. I could not believe it. I had hit a duck. I pulled over and got out of my car. I looked around. There was no duck in sight. I know I hit the duck. I heard it. Where it went, I had no idea. That was my first sign that the day had no where to go but down hill.

When I arrived at work I was helping out in the warehouse instead of my usual routine of talking to customers on the phones. Shortly before lunch I was getting ready to clean up the project I was working on so that I could go eat. I heard the foot steps coming in my direction but choose not to look up. I assumed it was one of the warehouse workers coming to pull a gown off the shelves.

“Shanene!” yelled Natasha. I looked up. I knew something was wrong the moment she said my name. I could hear the panic in her voice. The first thing that came to mind was my grandfather. He is almost eighty-three. I thought “it must be time.”

But it wasn’t my grandfather. It was my dad. He had a massive stroke. But that couldn’t be right. He is only fifty-seven. That is still young. He is always moving and working hard. This is the man who goes up to the Uintas every weekend in the summer to go backpacking. He is the one who would take just a backpack up in the mountains for a week at a time so he could make it to King’s Peak. He was my dad. This couldn't happen to him. He is invincible.