.... If Only In My Dreams

I just got home from the hospital around 10:45 tonight and Dads still improving. The nurses have asked that only immediate family and his siblings and mother be allowed to visit him in the ICU. There will be plenty of time for visits once hes moved back up to the transplant floor and more stable. We're hoping that they'll be able to remove the ventilator tomorrow, but at least he's awake now and wanting to try to type things to say, which is still difficult for him. I know everyone's prayers have been heard and have helped contribute to his amazing recovery from such a traumatic surgery. Our family is so humbled and grateful to all of you and we're continuing to pray for the Atwood family and the donor family as well.

We just realized this evening, as our family gathered at Carter's house to have a little Christmas get together, that Dad wasn't aware until this afternoon that Christmas had come and gone while he was still coming out of the haze of sedation he'd been in for over 24 hours. He was expecting the surgery to be over by 2-3pm and that the rest of us would have time to still get home for Christmas Eve dinner with our kids. Thats why he was trying to type "go home for Christmas" yesterday to all of us.

It reminded me of the song "I'll Be Home For Christmas" which ironically, was being sung by Frank Sinatra on the radio on Christmas Eve morning as I was racing through the dark and empty streets of Sugarhouse back toward the hospital. I knew he was looking forward to having Christmas Eve dinner at my house with my girls, my Mom and his Uncle Ernie. We had joked the night before that if worse came to worse and he wasn't a match for the lung, that at least he'd get to be home for Christmas and enjoy the meal I was going to prepare for them. He definitely wasn't home for Christmas, but I know he was there in his dreams.

On Friday night, around 8pm, my girls and I had just finished setting the table for our Christmas Eve feast and were pulling some Christmas muffins out of the oven when I got the text that they had a lung and were on their way to the hospital. The last three days have been such a whirlwind that I haven't had the time or energy to put all the place settings away. Its all just sitting there, like its frozen in time. Sure it would have been nice to have had a "normal" Christmas, but it would have included watching Dad haul his oxygen tank around, with his grey skin and all of us wincing in empathy every time a coughing attack would strike, or he would get winded from just standing up to walk to the next room. It would have been another reminder that he most likely wouldn't be around next Christmas if he didn't get a new lung soon.

I think I just may leave the table like this for awhile, at least until Dad is taken off the ventilator and gets a chance to catch that second wind :)

Progress

Dads been able to use a little keyboard communicator this afternoon and has slowly been able to say things like "everything's fine" and "go home for Christmas." He has tears in his eyes every time we talk to him - not because he's in pain, but because I know he's so full of love and gratitude and concern for his family right now. Thats my dad - always full of love and optimism.

Diana, the recipient of the left lung is actually in the room right next to Dad, literally on the other side of the wall. How cool is that? When I had my twins, I remember the nurses would always put them in the same little hospital crib to sleep because they just did better that way. I think the same theory applies here with these two miraculous lungs. I truly believe that the donor is watching over both of them - their own guardian angel.

Still improving

Bryan just spoke with the nurses and they said he's still improving, they turned down his pain meds quite a bit so he is fairly coherent. We'll post more info later today.