There is always an awkward silence. You know like the time when everyone in the room is talking loudly and then they all stop at once.. And....it gets quiet.It feels weird. Then, someone feels the need to talk so it doesn’t feel uncomfortable. When someone you love is dying...there is a lot of silence to fill. The moment when you don’t know what to say. It’s silent. The moment when you can’t say anything for fear of crying or bc you feel that huge knot in your throat . It’s silent. The moment you every piece of you wants to ask the hard questions but you don’t. It’s silent. It’s because there is a huge elephant in the room. The one that we are all walking on eggshells around. Time is disappearing. My dad is dying. There I said it. My dad is dying. Our family is fighting the awkward silence. The fact that time is running out and we all have been told that he is sick...creates an abnormal amount of noiseless minutes in our house. I’m tired of not talking about it. I’ve written songs about it...I’ve sang about it...but I haven’t yet talked to Dad about how he feels about it. Wehave tip toed around the edges of it. We’ve mentioned the “will” and the “what ifs” ...hell we even talked about what clothes and kind of casket he wants to be buried in. But I don’t want to talk about it...yet at the same time I want to know more. I want to fill up every second with conversation so we don’t lose them. I want him to teach me everything he knows about carpentry, money, love and life. I want to memorize his voice...his habits of twirling his thumbs when he is in deep thought.. I want him to tell me all of his favorite memories... I want them written down somewhere so I can read them to my children someday. The worst part is that we have been through this before. So it’s uncomfortably familiar. 6 years ago we faced the silence...the first time he was diagnosed “terminal “ and needed a transplant. Back then I remember us all being super optimistic...we feared nothing. We faced it head on........laughed about it..even made jokes about him being a “LIVE” R. and we WON. He fought for his life.....and He lived. I got to spend 6 more Christmas’s and New Years with my dad. He walked me down the isle. We were blessed...and lucky. His number came up. You see.....a lot of folks keep telling me lately to have faith. What is frustrating to me is that my faith is the strongest it’s ever been. So why do they keep saying that? Well because they want to fill up the silence. With something. Anything. For me Faith has nothing to do with luck and In the game of organ donation........I believe it takes both. Faith and Luck. Yes, some will argue me down using scripture from the bible but trust me I’ve done this before. I’m certain God is watching over us, sending us signs when we need them, angels even to help us through this difficult time. God has a plan and I’m sure of that. Whatever is supposed to happen will happen. He’s up in heaven loving us through this. I’m also certain God is not manipulating my fathers . “MELD” score. ( the organ donation # that determines if my dad lives or dies-and based on the system you have a very tiny MELD score window if you want to live) . You may say that means I don’t have faith. Your wrong. My faith is strong in my savior. My faith is not strong in our medical system. With the transplant and organ team....we rely a lot on luck. I won’t go off on a rant about how screwed up the hospital system is now. I mean it worked for him one time so I guess it could work again. But this time around it’s been a complete rollercoaster and train wreck. It’s a long story but let’s just say that we have been told a number of “opinions” and none of them give us a clue as to what is about to happen. None of them have provided an ounce of hope this time around. They have offered confusion, fear, distrust, uncertainty, frustration and pure hurt....and they have given us more silence than I feel I can stomach. It all boils down to the harsh truth. My dad is dying. And as far as his earthly team of dr’s..... someone else in a white jacket in a board room at the top of a skyscraper in Birmingham, Alabama gets to decide ...... If he survives. I’m very grateful for the science of organ donation....I’m not grateful for the malfunctioning system and gut wrenching process....that leaves a lot of pain silence...and waiting..wishing.to know the outcome. The craziest thing is that it’s all based on a number. An average of organ function/ blood test results / a number that rarely depicts his true daily condition. I’ve watched my dad the last 6 months shrivel to half his normal size...I’ve watched his legs turn from muscle to toothpicks....his waste bloat to the point of ruptering his skin....from the fluid retention due to his organs not functioning properly. For a year..we asked ?’s to the dr’s......the dr’s kept telling us he was fine. Then all of a sudden they changed their minds? Literally, over one appointment he went from being okay and not needing to be in the hospital ...to ....well them saying he’s in double organ failure. How can that be ? Based on his charts he had been sick the entire year before.... Not sure how this happens but it sure leaves us with a lot questions and alot of silence. Today, I watched him fall against the wall for no reason. Just lost balance suddenly and completely.I couldn’t even move when it happened. I looked up. I froze. I saw him falling...leaning into the wall...and it didn’t even feel real. I didn’t process what was happening. I just was shocked.. My mom was screaming to help....and I couldn’t even get up. I finally did...stunned ...and shaken. We got him seated. It got quiet. Again. The other day mom made a lighthearted statement about his new diet ....and said something about if he didn’t abide he would get sicker. I lost it . He IS dying anyway. Why should it matter what he eats now? Let the man be happy for pete’s sake. I left the dinner table - tears. Big gator ones. Then I came back to try and ease the mood. Silence. Again. You could hear our forks clicking on the plates. I want to use one big long shout of profanity right this moment as I write this.. I’m angry. I hate this awkward silence. I’m practicing learning openness and well I guess this blog is my attempt at it. Whew...okay. Here goes...honest. It’s not easy. It’s really hard...and hell the only thing I know how to do.... Is write. So I write...songs....and more songs...then I guess that wasn’t enough...so now I’m writing a blog about it. Please don’t judge me...don’t get frustrated bc I’m writing this. If it makes you feel something you can’t handle , if you don’t care to know the details of this part of my life...if you think I’m being too open. Just do me a favor...and don’t judge me. Just click off of this page....and let this be my place.....to heal. If no one ever reads this..it doesn’t matter.....I think it might just be the one thing that can help me cope with what is happening. and i just need to write. bc i cant take - Silence. More than anything that is the one thing that is the hardest right now. I don’t know what to do with it. I want to scream. I want to tell him a funny joke. I want to ask him -all the things I’ve ever wanted to know about him? But I can’t. Why? Not sure yet...but I’m gonna figure this out. I’m gonna be brave enough at some point to break the silence. For now...I guess I’ll just type it until I can speak it. So it’s still silent ----except the tick tick tick from the sounds of my fingers typing on this keyboard. Maybe I should turn the tv on and turn it up real loud. -hc
Posted on: Sat, 27 Sep 2014 05:04:19 +0000
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