Another Day On the Roller Coaster
By Andrea Tadpole-Broussard
12/26/22
WARNING: This is not a pretty poem. If you cannot handle reality please move on!
My Dad was home last year at this time for a few weeks. Home health was coming in every day. I would work all day from home, then jump in the car after work every day and drive 20+ miles one way to go help my stepmom care for him. I often had to stop at the store on the way and buy a list of things my Dad wanted. I had a tiny glimmer of hope that he was getting better. I clung to it like a life preserver in the middle of a wild storm on the ocean after a shipwreck. I kept thinking if I just make sure he knows I am never going to give up and I am never going to leave him then he will get through this and be okay.
By this time last year he started to show signs of weakening. My stepmom and I begged and pleaded with him for several days to go to ER and get checked out. He finally agreed and we took him by ambulance to the local hospital. That was a waste of time because the idiot ER doctor suddenly decided they did not have the equipment to handle a patient with his heart problems. I know that was a lie. I am sure it was actually because he did not have good enough insurance but I cannot prove it. If I could I would sue their asses.
By New Years Eve last year he was getting much worse. I begged him to go to another ER. He said the only way he would go was if my brother drove him to the Cherokee Nation hospital in Tahlequah. I called my brother numerous times and begged and pleaded with him to take him. He finally begrudgingly agreed after I told him his father's blood was on his hands if he did not come and help him. God forbid it would interfere in his all hallowed New Years Eve plans with his wife. This same brother rarely showed up to see or help my Dad unless it made him look good. It was never about loving my Dad at all.
After my Dad got to Tahlequa, the doctors there wanted to admit him but every hospital in the region was full including theirs except for one in Fayetteville, AR. My stepmom and I rented a hotel room across the street from the hospital so that we could be with him. I would drop her off at the hospital at 6am every day and then go back to the hotel and work all day. Then, I would go get her, feed us, drop her off at the hotel and I would go spend the rest of the evening with my Dad. I would help him eat and watch TV. We would talk about nothing and everything. He started showing improvement and that hope I had previously had began to spring back to life.
A couple of days before he was transferred to a rehab facility in Tulsa, one of his friends, who I now refer to as Dumbass, came to see him at the hospital while I was at the hotel working. What he failed to tell anyone was that he was waiting on the results of a COVID test! He did not have a mask on, and no one enforced it with him. If I had been there, I would have thrown him out of the room if he refused to wear a mask. He called my stepmom that evening and told her it was positive! Some people can be so selfish and STUPID!!! The hospital made my stepmom and I go pay to get COVID tests before we could go back in his room. They quickly transferred him to a rehab center in Tulsa. I suspect it was to get my Dad out of their hospital before he tested positive for COVID. Regardless, I was happy he was closer to home and in a good facility. It was one that I fought hard to get him in.
Once we got to the rehab my hope was getting stronger. He was sitting up in bed, talking, eating and barking out orders to me as usual. I would work from home every day while my stepmom stayed with him all day. Right after work I would go sit with him all evening. A few days after being there my Dad started having problems again. He was transported to St. John's hospital ER in Tulsa. My stepmom and I met him there. They would only let one person stay due to COVID precautions so my stepmom stayed. They left my father on a gurney in the hallway for over 24 hours. They did no tests or anything and threw back out the door to rehab.
Rehab knew my Dad's condition was bad and they sent him by ambulance to Hillcrest in Tulsa. They immediately ran tests and determined the infection he had in one part of his body, that doctors thought was gone, had sadly reoccured in his neck. They had to do emergency surgery on him to clean out the infection.
I rushed to the hospital. It was after normal hours. The surgery waiting area was closed and dark. I honestly cannot explain how this happened other than God, the Holy Spirit and Angels guided me to that area. The security guards I saw along the way did not stop me. I got to the surgery waiting area. I was trying to think of what to do to find my Dad. I just needed to know if he made it through surgery. I saw a computer monitor flicker and ran over to look at it. Up popped a screen with a link to the surgery recovery room and a phone number. I called it and a nurse answered. I explained everything and she promised to call and update me. Just as I hung up, the elevators doors in front of me opened and out rolled my Dad on a gurney. They were in a rush and I ran behind them screaming, "That's my Dad! Please stop!!" They paused for a brief moment and said, "He has COVID you cannot get close." I told my Dad I loved him and I was not leaving till I knew he got out of surgery okay.
The recovery room nurse eventually called me and told me the doctor would come talk to me after. When he came to talk to me, he explained he had to fight hospital administration to get approval to perform emergency surgery because my Dad had COVID. He did not know if he would ever walk again or use his hands. The infection had eaten away alot of important nerves.
My Dad was transferred to the sister facility of the rehab he was in due to him having COVID. We could only visit him through an outside window. I arranged with the hospital administrator to be able to go sit outside his window every day after work at 5:30. I did this for several days in cold weather with snow and ice some days, and other days in the rain with an umbrella. I would stay at least an hour. The nurse would turn his bed to window where he could see me and I would call him on his cell phone. We would talk about everything and nothing. I just.did not want him to think that he was forgotten and no one loved him.
Once he was free of COVID I got special exception arranged for me, my stepmom and my brother to be able to visit as long as we switched out. Sadly, my brother rarely showed up. It was just me and my stepmom. It hurt my Dad deeply that my brother hardly came to see him. I gave up on begging him to come. I got permission to bring his dog in to see him and that brightened his spirits.
I had a little glimmer of hope again. Then, I got a call. He was transferred to ICU. His breathing was a little off and they wanted to watch him closer. My stepmom and I kept switching off being with him. He just was not bouncing back. I knew it was not looking good but I kept hoping for a miracle.
The night before he died I called and took off work the next day. Then I called my brother and told him he needed to come up, that I knew things did not look good. He said I was crazy and hung up. I had to call back several times begging and pleading with him. I finally told him, "If you are not here with him when he dies, you have no one to blame but yourself and your controlling wife!" I hung up and never called back. He showed up a couple of hours later. It is a damned shame that someone has to beg a person to do the right thing.
My Dad died the next day, on February 11, 2022, with me on one side holding his hand, my stepmom on the other and my brother at his feet. I spent many evenings in the weeks before my Dad died, when I was allowed in, holding his hand and watching TV. That is all he wanted to do, just hold my hand. He lost his voice a week or so before he died. There were no words, just us gazing into eachother's eyes. When he died our eyes were locked in an eternal gaze. All I could think was what a beautiful shade of blue his eyes were and why I had not noticed before.
My siblings, as I choose to now call them, have always been a jealous, dysfunctional mess. My father's death and burial were no exception. At a time when they should have pulled together with me and my stepmom, they instead tore what little we had left of our relationships with them apart. I will not go into the gorey details here. If you read my blog, you already know. If not, all I can say is they are not my family anymore and deserve no place in my life. I do not hate them. I was deeply hurt by their wicked, evil games. Today, I choose to love myself more. I put them on the altar. God and karma can deal with them. I have moved on, and they are out of my life.
Despite all the bullshit and games attempted to be thrown at and played on my stepmom and I by my siblings, we were able to give my Dad the dignified and respectful memorial service he deserved. We were also able to bury him with full military honors. My little family was able to pull together and make me and my father proud.
I wrote all that out again today, not because I enjoy it, but because I want those who supposedly care about me to understand the emotional hell I have been through. The holidays make it worse. Grief is a roller coaster no one ever volunteers to ride. I have been told it is the price we pay to love so deeply. All I know is I miss my Dad every minute of every day and my heart aches so bad it is a physical pain.
A little unmerited favor from my inner circle would be greatly appreciated to help me get through this. If you do not know what that means look it up. I know I am guilty of always saying I am fine even when I am not. Frankly, if you are in my inner circle I should not have to beg for unearned, unconditional love and attention. Those closest to me should already see I need it and give it. I do that for them everyday.
Sadly, I am the oldest and have always been expected to be strong. Most people in my world get indignant when I say I need something or I express weakness. NEWFLASH!! I am weak right now inside. I do not know when or if I will ever "get over" losing my Dad. I am sorry if I am not getting through this the right way or fast enough. I am doing the best I can right now!!!
I am not one for being fake. I am what I am when I am. Sometimes that is beautiful, other times funny and other times downright ugly. Grief has me by the throat most days right now. I keep comparing last year to this year and wishing I had more time with my Dad. I still grab my phone to text or call him. For a few seconds I forget he is gone. Once again the sadness engulfs me and I fight to grab God's hand to pull me to the top of the water again before I drown. Amazingly, He is always somehow there.
Dad, I know you are still around me in spirit. I just cannot see you right now because of the sorrow in my eyes. I really need a sign right now that I am okay, that everything is okay, that you are not gone just in another dimension. Please remind me that I am still here for a reason and that we will meet again some day. I love you forever Daddy!!
