My Dad is Superman...

April 11, 2010 - Sunday morning...8:04 a.m. I got the most dreaded phone call of my life. My dad was in the hospital, what they thought was a mini stroke, was actually a brain tumor. My dad was scheduled for brain surgery two days later. I left on Monday so I could see him before surgery and be with my family during this difficult time. I arrived at the hospital about eight that night and visited with my parents and some of my siblings until late. My sisters from Bozeman arrived early Tuesday morning. Ten out of the eleven children were there, Stephen was in Mexico, and was missed very much. Surgery wasn't scheduled until about two o'clock Tuesday afternoon. My brother, Mark-David, came in early and shaved his head. Time moved so slow that day as we tried to keep our spirits up and our fears away. We shared some special times as a family before they took him away. After a few hours the doctors came out to talk to my mom. We circled around our angel mother to hear that they believed the tumor to be a Glioblastoma grade 4. The most aggressive of this terminal brain cancer. We were devastated, shocked, and in that little waiting room, our lives came to a stand still. They told us they didn't want to speculate on the diagnosis, treatment, or time frame until they had the lab results back.

After two long hours, we finally were allowed to see our dad in the ICU, only two at a time could go in. He was in extreme pain, I don't think I had ever seen a person suffering that level of pain before. It was heart breaking. I try not to go back and visit that memory of him in my mind, because it is too difficult.

When I woke up Wednesday, I was thinking about my dad and how strong he was. How he had quietly endured his pain in recovery the night before. A nickname for him came to mind...Superman. Wednesday morning when I arrived at the hospital, I asked a nurse for a piece of paper and made him a little poster..."Our Dad is Superman..." I hung it up in his room, but he was still struggling so much. When he came out of surgery, he was paralyzed on the left side of his face. The swelling in the brain and paralysis made it very difficult for him to communicate with us and prevented him from being able to swallow, he couldn't eat or drink. He was very thirsty. He wanted some grape juice. The doctor told him he couldn't drink, they gave him a cup of water to show him that he couldn't drink. He immediately choked on it after he took a sip. They told him he would be in the ICU for many more days, maybe until Monday. Then they said he would go to the regular floor for several days to recover then up to the Re-hab floor for a while. It was very hard for us to see so many obstacles for him to overcome, but, there was a determination in him that said he wasn't going to listen to the doctors.

I left to take my sister to a doctor appointment and we were gone several hours. When we came back, my dad was sitting on the edge of the bed, drinking grape juice from a straw. A plate of meatloaf, mashed potatoes, and green beans (his favorite) was in front of him, he ate it all. They told us that he had walked around the ICU floor with his walker so fast they could hardly keep up with him. He was being transferred in a few hours out of the ICU to a regular floor. At this point...I KNEW my dad was Superman. We were so proud of him. By that night his speech had improved to the point where we could understand what he was saying to us, that was a wonderful blessing.

Thursday morning he was struggling to eat, it took about an hour and a half for him to eat a meal. It was a huge effort to swallow with half of his tongue paralyzed. He didn't complain, not once. He continued to endure. Thursday afternoon he was transferred to the Re-hab floor... no one could believe this..even the health care providers. From brain surgery to the Re-hab floor in three days. I had never seen, in anyone, the determination, patience and strength that I saw in my dad that week. It was remarkable, it was an experience I will never forget.

My dad has a tendency to be on the quiet side, but not anymore. The surgery caused injury to the right brain, we were told this might have something to do with his "chattiness" now. He talks constantly, and we love it. We could not get enough. Every word he said was a treasure and we wrote down pages and pages of stories he told us about when he was younger...words of wisdom about life in general and advice to us and others. As he walked the floors of the hospital, he stopped to admire the paintings on the wall. The tree picture was our favorite. He stopped in front of it and explained to my sister that the tree was strong, it had to withstand the wind and the snow and the weather. He said it was a tired old tree, but that it wouldn't tip over. Very profound and inspiring. I got to spend Thursday and Friday nights at the hospital with him. I loved my time there with my dad taking care of him and listening to him talk. Whether he was in the ICU, on the fourteenth floor, the eighth floor, the Re-hab floor, speech therapy, occupational therapy, physical therapy, or just laying in his bed..he was everyone's favorite patient...there was no question about that. He received the best care, I was so impressed with everyone that helped him. As much as possible, we were at the hospital. We tried to find humor in the little things and enjoyed being together as a family. We had some very dark times but some brighter times too... My dad made us laugh and at times he cried with us. Two of my brothers shaved their heads in honor of my dad's new look. A few of us girls thought about it, but only for a minute. Sunday night my mom's boss, Dr. Hamilton, pulled up the lab results on the computer. We saw that the surgeons suspicions were correct. It was very hard to read those words on the computer screen and try to let it sink in that this was not just a bad dream, but our reality now. The doctors were scheduled to meet with the family on Thursday, April 22, to give the diagnosis and treatment options. My mom didn't want my dad to wait until that meeting to know what the lab results were.

Monday morning, I went to the hospital with my mom, so she could tell him about the lab results. I sat in the corner of the room and watched a very sad but tender exchange between them. When my mom told my dad the type of tumor he had, he put his head down and cried. I felt sad and empty. I felt angry at these tiny little invaders that had come into his brain and would change the rest of their lives and eventually steal him away from us. Life seemed so unfair at that moment. In the midst of all these emotions, I also felt love. Love for my parents for the lives they had lived, for the examples they had set, for the faith and courage they still held onto in spite of this new trial. I felt peace, that the gospel is true and that families are forever. After his initial moments of grief, my dad said he would beat this, that he was stubborn, that he wanted to embarrass the doctors and live longer than they said he would. He wasn't going to give up.

Tuesday, I headed back to Vegas. It was very hard to leave the family under these circumstances. That week had been one of the hardest of my life. We received many blessings, we were strengthened as a family. The lessons learned that week have become "tender mercies" that we will never forget. I have been home for a week now. I have struggled with such sadness, but try to feel more hopeful as the days go by. My dad came home from the hospital April 26. He has to have 24/7 supervision because of the recovery he is still making from the brain surgery. My mom is a huge support, standing by his side. They are about to embark on an aggressive treatment schedule of radiation and chemotherapy. I am so proud of my dad. He is one of my heroes. I continue to be amazed at his determination and what he accomplishes each day. We have a battle ahead of us as a family, my dad has the greatest battle of all...the battle for his life. Ariel said it best when she said, "If anyone can beat this, it will be grandpa.." I believe that too... He is a strong man...he is Superman.

*Out of respect for my dad, I didn't post pictures of him here...but believe me...he looks awesome! Mexican prisoner picture is courtesy of Stephen. Couldn't publish this post without him being with us.