March 23, 2006 1:09pm

It was exactly two years ago today that my dad died.

I remember every single detail of that day and even the night before.

My dad was in the hospital with another bout of CHF. He was doing better and was about to be released when he had a massive stroke and ended up in ICU on a vent. That lasted for a week before they decided to extubate him. It was clear he wouldn't be able to breathe on his own.

March 22nd was the day they extubated him. It was a Monday. I was sure that he would die within a few hours. My mom was with him most of the night. I kept trying to call her to find out what had happened, but she wasn't home. Midnight. One a.m. Two a.m. I had to go to work in the morning, so I finally fell asleep around 3.

I wasn't comfortable going over to the hospital, and Ryan was still working overnights then. At 6am, I woke up and tried calling my mom. Still no answer at the house. I drove past the house on my way to work and saw that her car wasn't in the driveway.

At that point, I was more worried about my mom. I was sure that I had become an orphan overnight and nobody was telling me.

On my way to work, I drove past the hospital and saw her car in the Dr's lot. Whew! Ok. That's where she is.

Went to work, but didn't want to be there. Got the keys to start the truck up for the day (I was working EMS at the time). Nothing. No lights. No engine. Wonderful. Another thing in my life that's dead today.

Went back inside and gave my keys in, "I need a new truck."

Curled up on a seat in the ready room. Someone who worked with me asked me if I was okay. In one breath I told her the whole story. Dad dying. Don't know what's happening. Can't reach anyone. Scared.

She disappeared into some office and returned a minute later. Gave me a hug and whispered in my ear "It's ok. Go home. Don't worry about the shift. Call me if you need anything."

I got in my car and tried calling the house again. No answer. I called the hospital this time. "Brennan 3, please."
Just one moment.
"Hi. Um.. my dad is..um ...." wait, did he die already? they won't tell me that over the phone. i just need to know if my mom is there. don't ask about dad. just ask for your mother. but what do you call her? you can't ask for mom! ask for dr. p. but what if they don't know her on that floor? what if she's mr. m's wife there? what if they don't know she works at the hospital.
"..... is Dr. P- there?"
No, she just left a little while ago.

I always underestimate how many people know my mother. I assume that because she does pediatric neurology, only pediatricians and other pediatric specialists know her. It never dawns on me that lots of people in the hospital know who she is. And because of that, they treat her (and me) very differently than they do all of the "regular" people. I take for granted how easy it is to get an appointment in a Dr's office just because I say "This is Dr. P's daughter". Was it the same with my dad? Was his care different than every other stroke patient on that floor? Was my mother allowed to see him whenever she wanted because she was his wife, or because she's a doctor at that hospital? I always felt pangs of guilt when I would be ushered past a busy waiting room because I was somehow privileged, or when I would make rounds with my mother at the hospital and the nurses would all give me hugs and say how much I'd grown. Then they would give me graham crackers and milk while my mom saw her patients. What about all the sick kids? Don't they get hugs?

It's almost 8am. She has to be going to work soon. So I called her office, expecting to get a secretary. Instead I got the harried voice of my mother, "'Ello!" She sounded annoyed that the phone rang.

"Mom!" Her voice quickly softened. "Elizabeth!" It was like we had just been reunited. She always sounds surprised to hear my voice on the phone. I imagine that's what it sounded like when Elizabeth Smart called her parents after being missing for a year.

"The situation with your father is terminal." I was just pulling into the driveway of my apartment complex when she said this. "I had them give him a morphine drip last night because...I just couldn't watch it anymore. They've stopped everything. His breathing is very shallow. I was sure it would be over by last night, but this could go on for another 24 hours. I have patients coming in today. Can you come to the hospital?"

Yes. I can.

I ran into my tiny apartment. Ryan was still sound asleep. I woke him to tell him what was happening. He had a test that morning in one of his classes. I changed out of my uniform. What is appropriate clothing to watch someone die? Do you wear something somber? They aren't dead yet, though. But something bright and cheery doesn't seem proper either.

Comfort is key. This could be a long day. Jeans and a purple v-neck sweater.

I tore out of there in a hurry. My mom was going to stop by the hospital one more time and I didn't want to walk into his room alone. My dad and I were so rarely ever alone in a room together and it was always awkward and uncomfortable. This was going to be even worse.

Found a parking spot and went in through the front doors of the hospital. I almost always go in that hospital with my mom, so I'm usually at the Dr's entrance. This was different. Lots of people. Big, friendly lobby. No ID card needed.

I walked past the front desk.

"Oh, excuse me!" Is someone talking to me?
"Excuse me! Where are you going?" Someone is stopping me? Don't they know who I am? I'm Dr. P's daughter. Why would they stop me? I grew up in this place. It's like a second home, except one that's scary and smells like stuffing at every mealtime.

My dad is on Brennan 3.

"What's his name?" Will they not let me up if he already died? What's the turnover rate in the ICU? Do they ship them off to the morgue right away? Is she going to redirect me to the basement? Does she know something I don't. Does this 50+ volunteer with enormous boobs know that my dad died before I get to know? Is she going to talk about this with her other pink coat wearing friends when they go to the cafeteria with their free lunch pass? "This poor girl came in to see her father. I didn't have the heart to tell her he already kicked it."

His name is (was? Should I say was? Did he have a name or does he have a name? Do you still have a name after you die?) Frank M-.

She didn't look anything up on a computer, list, or any memo that would have told her anything more than what I already said.

"Just a minute. Let me give you this." She handed me a large square sticker. Similar to one of those that says "HELLO! MY NAME IS" and you fill in your name with a magic marker so everyone at a conference knows who you are. This was probably invented by someone who had poor social skills and found it easier to just get the introductions out of the way without actually having to speak.

My sticker said VISITOR at the top. In the blank space, she had written BRENNAN 3. That's my name now. Brennan 3. I'm a cyborg with a dying father.
"Brennan 3 escaped the International Cyborg Corporation early this morning. It is believed she is on a mission to find her dying father. She is armed and dangerous. Use extreme caution when approaching Brennan 3. There is an on/off switch just behind her left ear. Should you see Brennan 3, please contact your local police department immediately."

They tagged me.

I got in the elevator and ripped my sticker off. I folded it in half and shoved it in my coat pocket. I'm not a visitor. If he already died, then that means I'm visiting a dead person and that's just creepy.

The elevator doors opened at the 3rd floor and there was my mom on the pay phone.
"Elizabeth!" It was that same relieved tone she always had. Her eyes were red.
"I tried calling you at home. I came back over here after I talked to you and the nurses said he.." She made a weird sweeping motion with her hand. Started high and then flat. That must be her hand signal for "died".
"... about 10 minutes before."

Oh. Ok. Oh? Ok? that's the best you can come up with?

With one hand on the phone, she reached out with her other arm and pulled me toward her. I'm almost 6 inches taller than her, but I felt very tiny at that moment. Tiny like when I was a little kid and I would be upset about something. She would do that one-armed pull in and my face would hit her hip right at the belt line. LEVIS. I would see that written on that useless snap button on the right pocket.

"Ugh, this is pointless." She was frustrated with the pay phone. "Let's go inside. I can call the office from there."

Right. Because she's a doctor. She can use the phone inside the hospital.

We walked through the double doors into the ICU unit. and walked right bahind the nurses' station. I sat down in an available swivel chair and started shuffling my feet just enough to get a good left-right-left-right partial swivel. None of this seemed strange to me. Sitting behind a long table. Sick people all around. Drug cart beside me. I was allowed to be here. I was always allowed to be here. Except, this time there were no graham crackers and no hugs.

Mom finished her phone calls to her office. She was taking the rest of the day off.
"Want to go inside?"
Yes.

I stood up, but that's as far as my legs would go. My mom stopped to take my hand, but I just put my head down.

"That's ok. You don't have to."

I sat back down. Feet still in position to continue the left-right-left-right rotation.

His room was right in front of me. There was a curtain pulled all the way around the bed. I watched my mother slip behind the curtain.

Left-right-left-right-left-right-left-right

A friendly nurse came over to talk to me. One of her children had been a patient of my mother's. I had never met her, but she knew things about me. She asked me about school, where I was working, what kind of doctor I wanted to be.

left-right-left-right-left-right

Mom emerged from the room. I stood up. My legs were working again. She wiped a tear away from one eye and smiled when she saw me.

"Ok, we have a lot of things to do today."

We said our goodbyes and thanks to the nurses. Rode down in the elevator together. At the lobby we split since she was going back out the dr's entrance to her car and I was rejoining the "visitors".

I got almost completely out the revolving door when I saw Ryan. My mom had reached him after I already left for the hospital. He came to the hospital looking for me, but 50+ boob lady wouldn't let him upstairs since he wasn't family. He didn't even rank a VISITOR sticker.

He wrapped his arms around me, and I started laughing. I was happy he was there. I laugh when I'm happy, even if nothing is funny.







Ok, this has gotten way too long ad I need to get back to studying, but I will continue more if I can later.