Headed Home

It is unbelievable to me that my Dad pulled out of that downward spiral. He gets better each day. Today, they had him off of the Levophed and his kidneys are working. They have started weaning him off of his ventilator, and are planning to extubate him in the next few days.
I have to get back to the kids. Marek has been running solo all week with the first week of school. I can't imagine the mess I am walking into. It may be a long week. While I've managed to continue fitness training in Florida, I have missed a whole week of MMA training and the test is bearing down on us. Soooo much curriculum, soooo little time. I'm sure KJN Gary will have me ready by September but as I have said before, I don't want to just be ready. I want to be stellar.
It has been a weird week. I have reconciled with my half-sister after 5 years of silence. I appreciate her willingness to put it behind us and I have had to forgive and forget that she threatened to sue me over our Grandfather's trust. Oy. I can't say that I trust her, but she is married with 3 kids under the age of 5 which is "punishment" enough. She has grown up a lot and I think she sees things in a different light. I do too.
My stepmom is still my stepmom. We get along fine. I look at her and think how tragic her life has been. Without even knowing the potential she had, she chose to stay with my Dad long after I told her she should leave him. I left him instead. She stayed. I'm pretty sure I'm better off.
I miss my kids and our life. Marek and I have forged an incredible partnership to raise two amazing kids and have amazing lives. I am grateful for this as I know what my life could have been when I look at my half-sister. Family keeps us humble and grateful.
This has no bearing on my opinion of TSA. I swear it stands for "Terrorist Search Association." I got searched because I had ankle weights in my bag and a half eaten jar of almond butter. "It's a gel," the agent told me. Not feeling humble or grateful. I feel like I want to spinning backfist the dude. Good thing they make us promise to use what we learn in class "constructively and defensively," although I could probably make a pretty good case for the "defensively" caveat. Better just to get on the plane and go home.

Small Miracles

If you had told me this story in nursing school, I would not believe it. My Dad’s white cell count came down from 66,000 to 37,000. They weaned him down to 13 mcg of Levophed (maintaining blood pressure) and increased his fluids. His kidneys still aren’t working, but his lab values show that he has kidneys left that could probably be kickstarted by taking him off of the continuous dialysis. Seriously? He’s still on FULL life support. If somebody turned the hospital power off, that would be it. However, he’s responding. He moved his arms and legs voluntarily today and when I offered to clean out his mouth with suction, he nodded. Whoa.

He did well through the day. His blood pressure came up and they weaned him further down to 8 mcg. They are keeping him sedated but they are now doing tube feedings to strengthen healing. He’s a fluid-shifting nightmare, putting fluid in his tissues in the form of swelling and then having it pulled off by dialysis. However, it’s working, largely because of the strength of his heart. Most heart muscles can’t take that kind of fluid overload especially old abused ones but his is in good shape. My grandfather’s heart was in super shape too. He walked around the golf course until he was 90. I am really hoping I have that kind of cardiac DNA. I spent most of the day watching in awe as he got better, his BP teetering on the minimum parameter and the gutsy nurse who had the stones to wean the Levophed and compensate with fluid and dialysis. Strong nursing work there.

Afterward, I found my energy and outlook slightly more positive, although I now begin to grapple with what will he be like when he comes out of this? Will he still be a grumpy tyrant who demeans women? Will he be the sweet young man I fell in love with when I was 3? Will he find God? I don’t think my patience is strong enough to endure the grumpy tyrant. Our relationship would no longer have a second chance. However, it’s possible that we may find common ground. Certainly, I am optimistic about that possibility. Every little girl needs her Dad, whether she’s 3 or 46. At 46, there are boundaries.

And speaking of grappling, I stopped off at G3 America TKD for a Jiu-Jitsu class. All men of course, except me. All of them were Brazilian and they spoke Brazilian but mustered English for my sake. The instructor, Daniel Roman is a Brown belt. He’s very patient. We did an extensive warm-up. I think he was trying to see what I could tolerate. He then taught a sweep move, followed by a new way to pass guard. It’s a little more brutal, but I liked it. My Brazilian partner was younger than I and clearly not used to women in class from a cultural standpoint. His name was Marcios. I’m thinking he was in his late 20’s. He didn’t like touching me and when I got him in guard, I could tell he was REALLY uncomfortable. HA! Anyway, when he did the technique, he was very slow and gentle. It’s more of a bump and roll kind of move but he didn’t want to throw me. I told him it was okay and that if he didn’t throw me, I would choke him out. LOL! We practiced the move a few times and then Daniel partnered with me for “sparring.” Oh! We are going to spar? Didn’t see that one comin. So for six minutes, which seemed like an eternity, Daniel put me in positions where I had to either do the new move, pass guard, escape side mount, try a move (I tried an arm bar without any luck). There were times when I controlled him but then didn’t know what to do to get him to tap. I think this is pretty common for beginners. Anyway, he was really smooth at how he executed his moves and he made me use my hips to escape a lot.

Back to Marcios for six minutes. Poor Marcios couldn’t seen to get around the fact that I was a girl. He came at me and tried to pin me down with a mount but he gave me too much space. I went for Triangle leg choke. I didn’t get his arm, but I DID get my leg up and around his neck. I locked it off and hung on while he tried to get out of it. I rested for a good minute before I let him go. He wasn’t getting anywhere and I was worried about his neck… and his pride. I didn’t think he’d tap and the last thing I needed to do was choke out one of Daniel’s students. J We worked some more and he got me in mount at the end. I tried a few things. Bump wasn’t working but the bell rang and I was off the hook. Daniel told Marcios, “See? Watch out when you work with girls.”

Then I got to grapple with the owner of the studio. He sort of reminded me of KJN Gary. He’s an Olympic level TKD artist but he is just learning Jiu-jitsu.  Clearly, he had come to class more often than Marcios. Within 3 minutes, he had me arm-barred and I tapped. Damn. I escaped side mount, did the new move and passed guard a couple of times. I guillotined him but didn’t go for the submission because I didn’t know we were really going for the submission. I was just pleased as punch to get the guillotine. Yay! He got out of it and then got mount. He sat so high on my chest that no matter how many times I bumped him he stayed right where he was. He then locked my arm and I knew I was soon in trouble. He went for the arm-bar. I knew there had to be a defense but I couldn’t remember it. I turned my thumb out and he didn’t catch it. He bent my elbow up but I didn’t tap. I tried to roll but I couldn’t. I did get my left hand on my fist and tried to pull free. We worked this for a minute and then the timer went off. I didn’t tap. Ha ha! I’d have lost on points for sure though.

It was a great experience. Nice guys. Very skilled instructor and safe. We talked about lots of stuff and took a photo. It was fun. I realized that my martial arts practice strengthens me on the inside, not simply because I am a woman in a man’s world but because it’s more than brute force and strength. Jiu-Jitsu is a thinking person’s art. It flows and you have to look for hidden opportunities. It’s a lot like fighting a snake. There are times to slither and times to strike. I am looking forward to working with Prof. Elliot.

I ran a couple of miles this morning. It was flat mostly. 

Dad is All Heart

Despite receiving excellent care, today’s numbers are not so good. My Dad’s pressure is still teetering in the 90’s and 100’s and he’s on a hefty dose of Levophed which in the healthcare biz we like to call “Leave ‘em dead.” Sure, it’s great for keep your blood pressure perfusing your brain, but it cuts off circulation to everything else, specifically your kidneys, so if you do wake up, you get the gift of a lifetime of dialysis. Yay you. My Dad is still ventilated and heavily sedated. He knows we are here. Every now and then he will nod his head to a question or blink his eyes.

Christine and Amanda are concerned about his pain. I try to explain they have him on continuous Dilaudid and it’s not enough. They  fail to believe his pain is managed because my Dad is addicted to narcotics. Ever since he broke his back in 1979, he has taken Percodan every day. Percodan, every day, for 35 years. On top of this, he potentiates with alcohol and has smoked 2 packs a day for the same time period. I think it’s safe to say that he does not have a single, healthy coping mechanism. He is afraid and that fear has driven him all his life to make poor choices.

“No one is going to tell ME what I can do with MY life.”

I’ve heard it many times. “No, Dad, no one is going to tell you what to do or how to live your life. They will simply live their lives without you in them.”

Hopefully, this experience will open his eyes to the importance of friends and family. I worry that my presence at his bedside is potentially wasted time. However, I can see in my half-sister’s eyes that she is glad I am here to translate all the tubes, wires, lab values, and machine alarms into a language she can understand. She is frightened and scared to lose her father. It’s okay with her that he controls her life. It’s okay with her that she will not do anything outside of raising a family because this way, she is serving our Dad by providing grandchildren. She is so committed to this endeavor that she will put up with the very minor and subtle abuse of her husband. It is here, that I recognize she has chosen a life partner who is controlling and patriarchial and one who keeps her in check by putting her down.

At 20 years of age, this would infuriate me. I am so against the oppression of women anywhere, especially my own family, after growing up with a grandfather and a father who tried to make me feel inferior and worthless for most of my young life. I have negated this by raising strong-willed, confident girls and have taught them that they can do ANYTHING they set their minds too. Even pee standing up. At 46, I realize that my sister’s choices are her own, that her relationship with her husband is probably comfortable because it mimicks the relationship with my Dad. She perceives herself safe and happy. Who am I to change that perception? It might work better for her than it ever would for me, and conveniently, it keeps her at an arm’s distance, leaving me to raise my own family in dramatically different ways.

The really not-so-good news is that my Dad’s white cell count went up. Yeah, on 3 of the highest-powered antibiotics in the industry, he is not fighting this infection. If he doesn’t liquefy in 24 hours, I will be surprised. His kidneys are shut down, he’s missing a third of his GI Tract, he has necrotizing pneumonia which means his lungs are dead, he’s full of fluid, totally obtunded and is defecating into a bag. It’s hard to think he will come out of this. In 14 years of nursing, I’ve never seen a good outcome. The nurse taking care of him today has 35 years of experience and his outlook is the same.

And the irony in all of this is his heart is stronger than that of most 20 year-olds. His valves are good. His cardiac output is excellent and it continues to beat perfectly. Of all his organs, his heart will survive. Ironic when you consider how many he’s broken.

The “up” side of today is I found an L.A. Fitness and worked out. It totally lifted me up. After a few days off, I went in and killed it. Starting with a warm-up on the treadmill of 20 minutes at 15% incline with ankle weights at walking speed. The gym was full of South Florida body-builder types. Guys that do waaaaay too much bench press and have these skinny little ankles. So what if you’re arms are huge? I’ll kick out your legs and you will topple to the ground. The bigger they are, the harder they fall. Ha ha. They were all puffing out their chests and walking around all tough….As they say, when in Rome….I walked up to the pull-up bar (with my ankle weights) and ripped off ten pull-ups. It was awesome. First, I was pretty excited to rip off ten, but the look on the guy’s face who went next was priceless. From there, I did 3X of Deadlift, 3X Knee Extensions, 3X of Hamstring curls, 2X of glute-strengtheners, all with 4 sets of 25 push-ups and 3 more sets of pull-ups at 8, 7 & 5. Then, when they were done with the lamest kickboxing class I’d ever seen, I went into the Aerobics room (where the boxing bags are). I did 100 wall kicks (RH) each leg, 25 side kicks. 25 front kicks, 25 back kicks, 10 tornado kicks and 25 roundhouse kicks, each leg. Finally, I did my 9 minute abdominal routine followed by 15 minutes of stretching. Yeah, it was a lot, but it felt good. Feeling strong. Still feeling on track for fitness. Obviously a little behind on curriculum but I stopped in to a Tae Kwan Do studio tonight and they invited me to come train Jiu-Jitsu at 645 tomorrow and Friday. Still have to nail that triangle leg choke.  

Florida ICU

My flight arrived at 530am. I got a little sleep on the plane but not much. Travelling is such a dealfest. On very little sleep, I had to pick up the rental car which is always a pain while they try to bend you over for every possible extra dollar they can squeeze out of you.

“Would you like insurance?”

“Can we fill it up for you on your return (to the tune of $8/gallon)?

“Please sign and initial these fourteen paragraphs saying that you refuse extra insurance, roadside assistance and any other meaningless services we pretend to offer. Thank you for using Thrifty!”

Just give me the damn keys. Once I’ve figured out how the seat works and which radio stations I can tolerate, I am thrust upon Tuesday morning, Miami rush hour traffic. Yay me. Not to mention that Florida is all Turnpike to get anywhere which means if you didn’t get change at the airport kiosk, you are basically screwed at the toll booth. Luckily, the story of a dying father and a California driver’s license gets you a pass on the first one and directions to the nearest grocery store where you can load up on quarters because the Turnpike doesn’t take credit cards or cash and expects EXACT change only. Kill me now.

I arrived at the hospital around 7am to find my Dad intubated, on every drip possible, and violated by a tube for every orifice to evacuate his body. His blood pressure was unstable. His heart rate was fast. He was swollen from head to toe. They took out his entire colon and ended his small intestine with a colostomy bag. He is NOT going to like THAT later. He is in respiratory failure, on a ventilator. He is in kidney failure on continuous renal replacement therapy (CRRT) which is like “dialysis light.” His stomach contents are consistently being sucked out by an NG tube. He has an arterial line and multiple venous access lines and he is snowed beyond belief. I walk in, but he cannot hear me. I drill his ICU nurse, Charles, who just so happens to know what the heck he is doing so I back off. They are titrating his fluids and his pressors to keep his blood pressure in range. His White cell count is 66,000. That’s 6-7 times what it should be and indicates a raging infection, and to add insult to injury, he is MRSA positive.

He’s older. His hair is thin and his beard is all white. He looks ancient. He no longer appears to be the menacing tyrant that threw his wife down the stairs, or the psychopath who threatened to sue me and disown me if I did not obey his wishes. So many reasons to hate him and yet, there he lays in a Florida ICU full of the worst possible conditions I could ever wish upon him. It’s hard to hate him and instead, I find compassion. How awful his life has been. He has chosen so poorly for the last 45 years, and he has no one to blame but himself. It’s so sad.

So I choose to take the high road. I choose to be a daughter, but not at my own expense. For the next however many days, I will cling to my principles and my personal choices. I am grounded by Marek and the girls and a supportive community. This is the day I have dreaded most of my life, but I knew it would come and surprisingly, I’m more prepared for it than I thought I would be.

My training regimen is fragmented. I am jet-lagged, tired and dehydrated. My body is not in any condition to train. For now, I need sleep and to monitor my “tank” and keep it full. I stretched today and looked over Life Skills. Ran through the logo memorization a couple of times, and looked over Pages 1 & 2 of the black belt test.

Man Down

This week started with a bang. Stella and Zoe start school on Wednesday and I begin another week of intensive black belt training at West Coast. It’s serious now. We are on Life skills #8, and 6 weeks away from the test. I was excited to start this week and get a lot done. With the girls in school, I can spend most of my days training and getting ready. I saw “was excited” because the excrement hit the fan when I checked the messages.

My half-sister called. My Dad is septic and going in for emergency surgery to clean out a belly full of C. Diff. He’s had pneumonia for the past 3 weeks, on antibiotics and in misery. I’m not exactly sure what the heck is going on because both Amanda and Christine (stepmom) tend to be poor historians. However, it sounds bad. So, Marek got me a flight and within 45 minutes we were on the road to the airport. I am taking the red-eye to Miami out of LAX.

Not sure if I will make it in time. Sepsis is awful and my dad is not a healthy person. He has abused his body all his life, on purpose, despite that which others tell him. He’s completely opposed to any lifestyle changes and chooses poor diet, smoking, alcoholism and general meanness to make his point. We have been estranged for a number of years, so I am not sure what to think about all of this. Not sure if I will buckle when I see him or be filled with anger and resentment. This is unusual territory. I hope he makes it long enough for me to get there. I am skeptical that he will survive the surgery. It’s so surreal after being at my father-in-law’s funeral last Saturday.

And then there are Christine and Amanda. Not sure how that will play out either. My sister accused me of stealing money from her years ago and I excused myself from any involvement with her. She has since had three kids and has kept busy enough to keep out of my life. I have gratefully done the same. Now, we will be thrust together in a stressful environment with big decisions to make. I am not looking forward to this AT ALL. However, it is the right thing to do for me to show up and show respect. It will either be the last chapter of this book or a new chapter. However, no matter what, it will mean change.

Luckily, I ran 2 miles early this morning. I packed in half an hour and readied Marek and the kids for a week of my absence with all kinds of big events planned. I know they will be fine. They are well-grounded, loved and supported by one another, and a loving community. I will be alone in the middle of South Florida in a hostile environment, possibly watching my Dad die. Trying to see the bright side of this one but so far…. I got nothing. 

Heart-shaped Rocks

Just got back from backpacking in Desolation Wilderness. This is the first time I’ve ever taken the girls backpacking. I thought it would be a sufferfest. I thought they would be miserable. I thought it would be a lesson in tolerance and patience. Once again, my children have amazed me. Instead of “my pack is too heavy,” or “how much longer?” my daughters asked, “What mountain is that?” and “Look Mom! Heart-shaped rocks!” After two days of natural wonders, wide-eyes  of amazement, and new revelations about the outdoors, I learned that my daughters were finally ready to receive all that I could throw them. Suddenly, I was overwhelmed that I would not have enough material to fill their heads with wonder and wisdom.

I returned to training today and the things are heating up. KJN is turning it up on some of the kids and threatening cuts. I don’t envy his part. Certainly, there are kids who are not ready and shouldn’t go. It’s far better to make the hard choices now rather than allow them to be embarrassed on a public stage. It’s pretty tough to look into the eyes of some of these ten year-olds who have been training so hard and being on their best behavior. I’ve noticed KJN’s private schedule is nice and full. The kids are getting nervous and training harder. It’s fun to see everyone excited and aiming for greatness. It’s contagious.