Woohoo!!!!

Dad's tube came out early this morning and he's doing fine. He's anxious to eat and is currently having a swallow test done to see if he can eat solid foods. Dr. Cahill was here and said his chest sounds good and that seeing him look so good has made her day.

Hopefully he'll be transferred out of the ICU soon and back up to the 5th floor. We're all so grateful for the prayers and encouragement from all of you over these past few days where things were pretty scarry. Your love and concern have carried all of us.

As we I look at my dad, smiling and hopeful, I can't help but get choked up at the gratitude I feel for the donor for the precious gift she has given our family. Life is good!

Almost there!

Wasn't quite ready for tube to come out this morning - so close! The good news is his last chest tube will probably come out today which will help him take deeper breaths and exhale deeper. They're planning to have him walk twice today which will really help him do better on his spontaneous breathing tests which are how they determine whether or not he can handle breathing on his own without the tube. He looks good and has definitely got his fight back :). He's now been in the ICU for the majority of the past two weeks and unable to talk or eat or drink normal food for most of it as well. We're all so ready to be out of here, but we trust the doctors and know that they're taking extra precautions to avoid having to reintubate him again. His infection is being treated with heavy antibiotics and we're hopeful that they're doing their job.

Happy Tears

Yesterday after dad's broncoscopy, Dr. Cahill and the other doctors walked out of the room to the nurses station and were discussing dad's situation and what they had seen on his scans. I was teetering between staying in the room with Dad and also trying to overhear what they were discussing outside his room. Once I knew my Dad was okay and relaxing after the procedure I walked out of the room to ask Dr. Cahill how she thought it went and whether or not she was happy with what she saw inside dad's lung. I instantly got a pit in my stomach when she and one of the transplant coordinators looked up to answer my question and looked as if they had been crying. Dr. Cahill quickly wiped away her tears and started telling me that things looked okay with Dad, which had me wondering then why they had been crying if everything was okay?

It had me worried all day yesterday and last night, wondering if they were just being overly optimistic with my dad and didn't want to break the bad news to us yet or something? So this morning I asked one of the coordinators what the tears were for, even though I knew it probably wasn't any of my business. She said that they had just been told that one of the first heart/lung transplant patients at the U had passed away and they had just read his obituary. He lived a good 20 years post transplant and was near and dear to many on the transplant team at the U, which as you can read from his obituary, completely explains Dr. Cahill's happy tears. I know that one day, maybe 20+ years from now :), Dr. Cahill and her team will shed happy tears for my dad's passing as well, as she recalls her fond memories and admiration for my dad and the amazing man that he is.


Jeffrey LaVere Wright Obituary: View Jeffrey Wright's Obituary by Salt Lake Tribune

Time To Dig Deep

This morning Dr. Cahill and Middleton did a broncoscopy where they insert a scope down the ventilation tube to see the inside of the throat and lungs.  Dad was a bit sedated and couldn't feel it or see the screen and I was excited that they let me stay in the room and watch the procedure.  When the camera went over to the right lung, you could see that there was some black goop that looked like caviar as well as some yellow gooberish stuff.  Cahill said this was the infection that they're treating with antibiotics, but they actually seemed relieved and said it's still okay, that they might be able to remove the ventilation tube tomorrow morning.   I have so many thoughts in my head that I could write about Dr. Cahill and the amazing team she is working with, but it deserves it's own post entirely, which will come soon, I promise.  Let's just say for now that today I saw her as more than my Dad's doctor and the head of a large transplant team - I saw her as one of my Dad's dear friends who truly lives to help him and other's like him live.  She is as invested and worried and concerned as we all are, and yet she probably has a dozen other patients just like him to look after.  See?  Don't get me started ....

Bryan and Janalyn came up from St. George again tonight and will be heading back tomorrow afternoon - they're awesome.  Dad's really wearing down mentally and kept writing questions wondering if the tube will ever come out.  He's losing patience and is so exhausted, but from what we hear from other lung transplant patients, it's to be expected.

As much as I love the times that I've had to sit alone with my Dad by his bed and just hold his hand, or close my eyes and rest, I also really have loved being in his room with just one or both of my brothers.  They are the only two people on this earth who have the same relationship as I do with my Dad and they love him the same way I do.  We have so many of the same memories and stories of Dad - he's a part of each of us that is special and timeless.  There's a quote I love by Clara Ortega about siblings:

"To the outside world we all grow old.  But not to brothers and sisters.  We know each other as we always were.  We know each other's hearts.  We share private family jokes.   We remember family feuds and secrets, family griefs and joys.  We live outside the touch of time."

Bryan and I were able to sit with him in his darkened room tonight and just hold Dad's hand for awhile while he rested - no talking, just letting him rest and feel us there.  I had been feeling a little down and hopeless about things this afternoon, but that time spent with the two of them gave me just the boost I needed to stay positive and be strong for Dad in the morning.  Carter and I have had similar opportunities to spend quality time with him and Carter's strength and optimism are always a comfort.

As we were leaving for the night, Dad wrote down a question asking if we brought his music.  Bryan had some headphones for him and I had a playlist of some of his favorite MoTab music, some George Winston and Paul Cardall piano stuff and some of his favorite classical music.  I think Dad knows it will help him relax, focus and dig deep as he feels himself getting discouraged.   Even when he's discouraged, he's still fighting.  Amazing.

More surgery for Diane :(

Apparently Diane, the other lung recipient, has to go back into surgery to have the lower part of her lung removed.  Please keep her and her family in your thoughts and prayers.  She and my Dad have been through the ringer these past two weeks, but they are both strong and we have complete confidence in the excellent doctors and nurses who have been so diligent in their care.  Hopefully tomorrow will bring better news for Diane!

Two Steps Forward

My hero! Just another marathon to him, I guess :) Dad just walked a few feet down the hall, and when they turned around and got back to his room he motioned forward that he could keep going and surprised the nurses and therapists. To be walking after what he's been through over the past 24 hours is a miracle. I will remember this picture forever

One Step Back

So this weekend Dad took two steps forward and yesterday was one step back. He was moved back down to the ICU yesterday afternoon because of some fluid thats been building up on his lung, as well as an infection and an atrial heart flutter. They had him on a Bpap oxygen mask that's basically like having a giant fan blowing a ton of oxygen into your mask. If he took it off for even a second his o2 levels would plummet. They gave him a med that causes his body to urinate like crazy in an effort to try to rid itself of the extra fluid in his lung, so the catheter had to stay in (I was mistaken when I said in my last post that it had been removed over the weekend.) It's been in since his surgery, so the sooner it can come out, the less chance for more infection.

He had to be reintubated this morning with the breathing and feeding tube, because he just wasn't able to stabilize his breathing even with the mask at full oxygen output. Last night he was breathing so rapidly and irregularly that it left me breathless just sitting there watching it. His hands and feet were like ice cycles from the lack of oxygen but he was in a cold sweat the entire time and said he was hot. When they let me into his ICU room, he tried to talk through his mask and told me with tears in his eyes that he wasn't afraid and that he loved us so much.

Having the tube back in is difficult because his throat was already so damaged from having it in and taken out the last time, but he's definitely calmed down and stabilized since having it put back in. Unfortunately we're back to trying to speak sign language with him to figure out what he needs or try to interpret his writing on a white board that's unclear because of his pain meds and all the wires on his fingers and hands. The physical therapist just came in and is moving his arms to stretch. I told the therapist how my dad was (is) a regular at the Treehouse Athletic Club and how he's run 17 marathons, and Dad gave me a thumbs up sign. They're going to try to get him to walk today - stay tuned!