When I called the hospital on Friday, the ICU nurse told me they had no patient by my father's name. She redirected me back to the switchboard to see if he'd been moved.
"Sorry, ma'am," the operator said. "There's no one here by that name."
Huh? "Are you sure?" I asked. I didn't see how this was possible. I had intended to contact the social worker anyway so this seemed like as good a time as any. It took three phone calls but I got a quick call back and learned that he had been moved to a floor below. It took five more calls throughout the day to find out that he was able to follow a finger for a few seconds before trailing off. Sounded encouraging.
By Saturday, he began coming out of it. For the first part of the day, he couldn't talk much and once he could, all he would say is no. No to food. No to medicine. No to anything they tried to get him to do. By late afternoon, "he'd done a 180 and was cooperating." He's still very confused but otherwise, doing much better than anticipated. They'd gotten him a priest for his own Easter service.
I'm glad. I hope he will be able to resume the level of life that he knows in the not so distant future. Thanks for all the thoughts, prayers and well wishes during this time. I really appreciate them.
I'm unaccustomed to the drama of it all or I should say, out of practice. As I was growing up and through my young adulthood, it was a way of life; they just weren't always in hospital settings. During the past few decades, I'd forgotten how crazy his infrequent appearances in my life could be. The past several days were a big and not so subtle reminder.
It seems apt that this happened during the Lenten season. It gave me a chance to reexamine a few things. It gave me a chance to check my "forgiveness" level. I may not be all the way there but definitely pretty far along. I'm only human. I'm also not stupid. It's important to note that forgiveness doesn't equate with forgetting. Forgetting would be insanity. (Using the definition that insanity is doing the same thing – and expecting a different result.) Forgiveness then is guided by the heart; forgetting by the brain.
I know that his "friends" (they who set up the password) who, during a call last week, were quick to criticize my lacking forgiveness with Scripture, are probably good people and well-intentioned. So, I can't really fault them. I don't expect them to understand my experiences any more than I might understand theirs. But, I can share a bit of applicable Scripture they obviously overlooked: "Judge not lest ye be judged."