My Dad....

[creilly]

My Dad went in for emergency surgery a couple of weeks ago. To the VA. He had one of his knees replaced last year and well he was scheduled for the other one to be done in a few months, but he fell and blew it out so they decided to do it right away.
Last time he refused to be put under and so they did a spinal tap or something, he was awake. This time they had him put under. He didn't want to be put under. Just before surgery he was in a panick. Demanding not to be put under. But he was.
They put him in the "Limb" ward. I was stunned at what I saw there. Many many of our soldiers, with missing limbs. Not just one but 2 3 sometimes all 4 just gone. The man in the bed next to my father could not have been older than 25 and was missing 3 limbs. What he had left was only a parcial arm with 2 fingers. He told me he was a bomb expert, that wasn't such an expert. He laughed about it. But I could see, we could all see, his pain.
The day after surgery (which took 4 hours longer than it should have because of all the damage to the knee) It was a sunday and the Physical Theropy was closed. But you could go in and work out if you wanted without a guy there to help you. My Dad asked me to take him down there so he would work his knee. So I did. He was walking the track with a walker, around and round.
There was a commotion and I went to the hall to see a man with no limbs had fallen out of his wheel chair. He laid there bloody, crying and pounding his head into the wall.
I screamed for help and ran to him, I stopped short as another man came up in his wheel chair and flung himself out and put his single arm around him and was crying too, telling him he understood and it would be ok. It was my dad's room mate Tim.
I was frozen for a moment. Not knowing what to do. My father came up and cried I can't help him Catherine, I can't help him. (At least I think he said Catherine, I can't besure he actually called me by my name and not someone else's.)
I went to them and got on my knees and put my arms around both men and told them I was going to help them get up and it would be ok.
Tim pulled back and put his arm around me and I lifted him (No small feat!!) into his chair. The first man was still pounding his head into the wall. He was bleeding. I asked him his name, Sam. I could see his pain. Not in the body, but in his soul. It hurt.
I helped him up and He asked me to keep touching him. I thought if he could hold my hand he would not have let go, so I placed my hand on his shoulder and started to wheel him down the hall to the nurses startion. Who still had not reacted. I guess it was a slow day??? They were no where to be found.
My father walked with the other guy. Crying silent tears.
I got my father and his room mate settled and took Sam next door to his room.
I got him up into the bed and got his sheets around him. I cleaned him up a bit. His head was cut but not too bad and the bleeding had stopped.
He asked me if I would just hold him for a while. So he wouldn't be alone.
I did what I would hope any woman would do. I climbed into bed with a strange man and held him. I let him rest his head on my shoulder and cry. He told me about Iraq.
About what happened to him, and I cried too.
I sneeked out after he fell asleep.

Yelled at the nurses and a few doctors. I shamed them!!

My father insisted on being released from the hospital the next day. He was to be in at least 10 day and was there for only 2. They let him go home. They taught me how to give him shots in the belly. Went over his exersies with us. I brought him to my home.

My dad hasnt been right since. He is screaming in his sleep. Flinging his arms and legs. He can't remember 2 hours ago. I know he is reliving the Veitnam war. He was a Sub guy I know, but he was also a POW for a year. What he was doing on dry land. Only he and the Goverenment know for sure, but I know it involved eating bugs, and fighting for his life. I know the clenched jaw and dead eyes when he thinks about it. I know the scars on his body. I know the day my oldest daughter was born. He looked down at his hands and wondered how he could touch is perfect grand daughter with hands that had done the things that they had done.

My dad isn't my dad anymore. I lost him in that hospital. He hasn't said a single thing that makes sense since the door closed behind us, as I wheeled him out. He is living in a world where my name is Omaha.

I think seeing Sam on the floor.., I think he finally snapped.

I hold him now. The way he held my daughter. They way he held me.

It's been a hard couple of weeks.

[Dick]

Cathy, Are you sure your real name isn't "Florence Nightingale"???
I read your post, and with tears in my eyes, and "goose-bumps" all over, managed to finish! Thank GOD for women like you! I am privileged to know you!
Dick

[creilly]

I am no "Florence Nightingale".
I do however have a very strong sense of pride in my Dad and his career choice.

I am sorry for the tears.

I find it so strange that there is no where I can go and off load these feelings like I can here, a coin board!!
I talk to the Doctors and they want me to talk to a shrink. I talk to other message boards and they all become war mongers with warpped sense of justice. Pointing fingers but never giving a hand. Ugh.

I was raised to care for my soldier. Support him, love him. Reach out to him.., who ever he may be.

Thank you guys for just letting me.., share.

[Dick]

Cathy, you and my daughter have MUCH in common! I wonder if you were cut from the same mold?
Thank you for caring. I know I am not alone.
Dick

[Rhubarb]

Cathy,

I to am a son of a soldier. My father was in WW2. He drove a tank at Normandy. He was shot and received the Purple Heart. My father never talked about the war very much at least not around me. He was the oldest of 7 brother's that 5 ea. were stationed over seas. 4 were in ww2 also.

You talked about your father and him saying thing's that doesn't make sensce: As a child I would awaken to hearing scream's it would go on for several minute's then stop. I would promptly go to his room and ask him if he's ok. Sadly he didn't talk about it, he would just say Yes. I guess as a child that was what I needed to hear.

Your story is a good story, sad but it hit home to me. Feel fortunate your father is alive for mine died in 85. Take care

David

[Bob P]

I am touched by that story Cathy, and can certainly relate to a whole lot you spoke about. I go to the VA clinic monthly for the tests on my cancer. I too am supposed to have my knees replaced. I see a lot of the things you saw, and it pains me too. I lost friends in Viet Nam, and the Gulf War (the real Gulf War). Those pains fade a bit with time, but to see these young 'kids' in a predictament like you saw just tears you apart. I have neighbors and friends who are trained right here to be EOD or bomb disposal techs. I wonder how many of those people I have known over the years are even alive any more. You mentioned your Dad's roomate 'Tim", and that caused me to stop for a second. My next door neighbor for a while last year was going to EOD School and his name is Tim.
With all that aside, I am proud to know someone with as much compassion as you. What you did that day will live with that young man forever. You did more than console him...You may have changed him and his outlook on life. From a 24 year Vet, I thank you for what you did. It makes us very pround.

[creilly]

Thank you all... your words mean so much to me.

[Dick]

David, I know how you feel. I lost my dad in "83. He had a massive stroke on the 5th of March, 1983, and didn't "see" his 83rd birthday. He died the 16th of March, 1983. He served three months, in WWI. I served 20 years, in WWII. Retired in '63.
Dick

[MaryJF]

Cathy,
I read your post a couple of days ago. It's been on my mind ever since. I'd be honored to have someone like you hold my son the way you did this stranger. He fell asleep in the arms of an angel.

As some of you know, my son-in-law is headed to Iraq in a couple of days. He volunteered so a woman in his command wouldn't have to go. My heart is still hurting from watching him as he said goodbye to each of his three children at the airport the other day as he headed back to the Air Force base in TX.

When he held his oldest son (9) the tears were welling up in his eyes. By the time he held his younger son (4) the tears were dripping down his cheeks, and by the time he held his daughter (1-1/2), he was sobbing. Then he came to me with his red nose and wet cheeks, and wishpered "I know they're in good hands. Please take care of my family. And if for whatever reason I don't make it back, always let them know how much daddy loved them, and how much they mean to me."

I don't want to imagine him not coming back, or coming back in the condition that soldier was in when you encountered him, Cathy. My prayers are with all of our men and women who have to do these things. God Bless Them! And I have to go now because I have tears in my eyes and I have three great kids who don't understand why daddy isn't coming home for a long time.

[creilly]

It sounds to me that he really did leave them in good hands.

I know from experiance they are too young to understand. It is his job, his duty. At some point in their life they will be angry that he went least another go.

My father did that. Until I was 18 my father was only home for 1 Christmas. I remember asking him about that. He told me..., when my brother and I were young.., he had no choice. When were older..., He didn't want others to miss out on what he missed, so he would take their place.

To take anothers place..., is probably the greatest gift. Your son is very generous. My prayers are with him and you, and all who are in your hearts.

Thank you for you kind words.