Dad in hospital

Its been a weird surreal two weeks and events have overtaken each other at a clipping pace. I am grateful for all the prayers, thoughts and well wishes of my friends. I have not had time to sit down and write about what happened until now. So here are the details.

Two weeks ago, mum was in Kuching attending a wedding with my sister. I got a call asking me to check on dad, he was not well apparently. When I looked in on him, he seemed fine, but I noticed his belly was really bloated. He said he had difficulty sleeping at night but told me not to fuss when I asked him to see a doctor. He said he thought it was just 'hong' and he preferred to see a Chinese doctor, which he in fact did already. This was Saturday. So I said okay, see your Chinese doctor, but better take the meds for high BP and his diabetes and if things don't improve, see a proper doctor. He said okay, okay. On Sunday morning when I brought him his breakfast, he still looked okay but I thought he seemed a bit breathless, but refused all offers and nagging to see a doctor and said he could sleep better. And dad being dad, I didn't dare push him too much.

By Monday, mum was home. I came over in the evening and noticed that he seemed to be breathless but better than the day before. I also noticed that his feet were swelling. Mum had nagged him enough to bring him to see Dr Chiam, his regular doctor. Dr Chiam suspected some form of chronic lung disease and early cardiac failure but apart from some meds, did not prescribe more since dad was due to see his doctor at TTSH on Wed. Dr Chiam also felt that dad should go to hospital, but again dad being dad, refused. Stubborn man.

But after I'd gone home on Monday night, the call came. Dad had gone to TTSH and was warded immediately. He had water in the lungs and they were suspecting some form of cardiac arrest. He was placed in the High Dependency ward.

They monitored him on and off for the next few days but when they first tried to schedule him for an angiogram, he became breathless and the heart, weakened by the first suspected heart attack, did not work well. So they abandoned the angio for the day.

By Friday, they managed to do the angiogram and the results were not good at all. Dad's arteries leading to the heart showed massive blockages - mostly 80 - 85% blocked. But the crucial main artery which supplies blood to the heart is 90% blocked. They had to insert an aortic balloon immediately to help him and this meant that a bypass is necessary, not as an elective but emergency.

Mum immediately arranged for him to be transferred to the Heart Centre at SGH. She had worked at SGH for more than 40 years and had friends there that she could rely on. The transfer was effected very quickly despite some annoying red tape on the TTSH end which I shall not go into detail here, suffice to say that I never was so boiling mad in my life with a doctor's arrogance. I stayed with mum and I was overwhelmed by how fast things moved and how urgent the situation was. To add to the dilemma, I was due to leave for Japan early the next morning. I was anguished for dad and on the other hand, for the plans that I had laid for almost a year that seemed certain to be dashed.

Once at SGH, the senior consultant took one look at the results and said, emergency surgery now. He told me and Paul bluntly: If we don't do this, your dad will die for certain. The next heart attack will almost certainly finish him off. As it is, because the blockage is so massive and the heart starved of oxygen for some time, some muscles may already be diseased. This meant that surgery would be risky. And because dad's diabetes was not well controlled, that meant that the risk of wound infection was high. Because the heart was not working properly already, the lungs were filled with water. All these were serious risks that meant that dad was, as the doctor put it, a very very sick man. If the heart did not function well during and after the bypass - and this was a real risk since many of his heart muscles were likely to be diseased or dead already thanks to the deprivation of oxygen and bloodflow, they might have to put him on a heart-lung machine indefinitely. He showed us the angio video. We saw how blood was spurting from a pinprick - that was how badly narrowed the arteries were. Honestly I don't know how dad made it this far without collapsing already. And I am grateful that he did not suffer undue pain before this - I thought heart attacks were characterised by chest pains etc, but dad never went through this.

The nurses briefed us about what would happen, that dad would be intubated for the op, that he would have tubes coming out from his chest to drain the fluid etc. But it all sort of went right over our heads in a daze. We gave personal information like emergency contact nos automatically but not really registering it at all. I think I was just focussed on how the doctor said and how grim things were.

Mum never cried but teared up. She is one strong woman. Paul and I cried. I'm sorry to say that I am ashamed of myself for being such a weak baby. At a time when I should be strong for mum, I was babbling like a baby. I knew it was touch and go and it was terrifying to see the number of doctors and nurses working on dad to prep him for the op. They were moving at such a clippingly efficient pace, there seemed no time to say anything. And I was afraid that if I never said anything, I would never have the chance to.

Dad and I have never been close. I always thought he was closer to Viv and I was more like mum. I never liked it that he was never around for me, that he paid more attention to his life than to ours as a family. I remember I once told mum quite angrily that I made sure I never married a man like dad, that the person I married would make me and our children number one always in his life. I was that resentful.

But on that day, at that time, all that flew out of the window as I watched them prep him. He looked pale but grinned bravely when I managed to squeeze past the doctors and nurses, to his bedside to snatch a few seconds to say what I had to say. I carried Owain with me and cried hard as I said: I just wanted to say thank you dad. Thanks for bringing me up. Thanks for taking care of my kids and for loving them and being their grand-dad. I held on to his one good hand hard and told him: 88. Remember? You said you'd live to 88. That's another 22 more years. I want to see you when you get out later. Okay? You're not going anywhere. I'm going to see you later when you wake up. You hear me?

He grinned and said, don't cry. I'll be okay. I'm in good hands. I nodded, yes, the very best of hands.

And then I was pushed aside as they wheeled him out of CCU and into the theatre. He was waving as he went.

So drama right? I am paying the price for this today as I write, being the family joke since everyone has already sniggered about how drama I was. Sigh.

After that, Paul, mum and I sat outside in the waiting area. Our eyes were red. We called Vi and she was already on her way in a bus from KL to Singapore - all the flights out were full. At that time I remember feeling very sad that she might not get there in time to see dad or say anything to dad.

People walking past us gave us curious looks. I was too drained to care. What is it about human drama and grief that attracts the curious anyway?

It was time to pray but I couldn't. I just couldn't. So I whipped out my handphone and did the next best thing - call for prayer support. Within minutes, I was getting messages of comfort and hope and assurances of strong prayers. I felt so grateful and cheered. As if with my friends and family all praying, things will turn out fine. I felt loads better knowing that people out there shared what I was going through and I wasn't exactly alone.

We called my dad's people. Dad did not want to tell them and for some time, dad has been estranged from most of his family. But I felt that the situation this time was serious and they had a right to know. So I called. And they spread the word. Within two hours, three of his sisters descended on us at the waiting area. Calls and SMSes were coming in from my uncle, cousins and my aunt in Shanghai. My aunts stayed with us all the way until they knew dad was out of the theatre. KH came after work with Isaac, then left to bring Isaac and Owain home before returning to the hospital to wait with us. Finally Vi came around 10pm, looking tired from the journey. But I was so relieved to see her. She had always been stronger and tougher than me and I think both mum and I needed her strength and her positiveness. She scoffed at the idea that something bad would happen in the theatre and was certain that dad would be alright.

Finally at around 10.30pm, they wheeled him out of theatre. He had numerous tubes coming out of him. But what frightened me most was that he had the waxy yellow-white complexion of a well-embalmed corpse.

Dr Chua came out to talk to us. He said dad was stable but not out of the woods yet. The first 24hrs were crucial ones. He said it was good that dad had "big blood vessels" and that the bypass went successfully for now. Dad did not have to be placed on a heart-lung machine but they would need to monitor how well his heart was working for now. If all went well they would remove the ventilator the next morning but keep him highly sedated for the next day or so.

We all trooped in one by one to see him. But he was still unconscious and hooked up to a whole bank of machines.

Mum told me to go to Japan. She said there was nothing I could do for him here. I knew that on one level, but I also remembered that I said I'd be here to see him when he woke up. And I was quite superstitious enough to fear that if I were not around, and renege on what I said, things would go bad. Mum, Viv and Paul urged me to go. They said they would pick me up early the next morning, bring me to see dad and then send me to the airport.

My head was spinning badly from the decision-making process and I had a headache from the crying, the stress and the constant volley of thoughts, pros and cons. By the time we left the hospital, it was already 11.30pm. Got home at midnight. If we were going to Japan, KH and the kids would have had to leave for the airport at 3am. Barely a couple of hours from then. Rita SMSed me asking me how? Going or not? She said that whatever decision we made would be the right one. KH had already called the travel insurance to clarify some points and we knew we would be able to claim for travel cancellation. We would lose the frequent flier points from SQ though. Finally I told KH: okay, cancel the trip. We're not going.

Tried to go to bed but could not sleep. I was straining to sleep but could only fall into restless napping, acutely conscious of the nearing of 3am. 3am came and went. I felt so anguished. I thought of the children, how disappointed they would be, of all the preparation I had done, then I thought of dad, of mum. Then at 3.30am, Owain groggily asked to nurse. And I asked him, do you want to continue sleeping or go to Tokyo? He became more alert and said:Tokyo.

So that did it. I woke up KH who was snoring away - he seemed very comfortable with the decision that was already made. I thought he was going to be angry when he woke up, because I kept changing my mind. But he wasn't. He just got up, woke all the kids up, got them dressed and ready. There was a sense of excitement in the air for them. And when I saw them, I thought I made the right decision.

They left in a flurry for the airport, sent off by hugs and kisses and cries of "See you later! In Tokyo!"

I spent the rest of the hour from 4 - 5am packing, topping up whatever needed to be packed - but still missing some stuff - like my hairbrush and my Rough Guide to Japan! Then tried to sleep for an hour. Not successful. At 6am, woke up got changed, woke Gillian and baby Trin again. Viv, Mum and Paul were at our gate at 6.30am but I still wasn't ready. At that point, I was still ready to give up and not go if dad was not looking good.

All of us headed for the hospital, hushed in the early morning. Dad was sleeping but the nurse told us he regained consciousness already. They had to sedate him heavily because he was a bit restless. He moved all four limbs, which is a good sign. His vital signs were stable, the blood pressure looked low but the nurse assured us it was normal for this stage.

I stared long at him. We couldn't go in, just watch from the glass window. He still had the waxy corpsy look. I let Gillian come in to look at him. And then we turned to go to the airport.

So why did I decide to go eventually?

1) Because I'd said what I needed to say already and I know he heard me.
2) Because I could leave mum with Viv and know that Viv will be strong for mum, surely stronger than me.
3) Because I made them all promise to call/sms me twice a day to update me on dad's condition and to not fudge the news if it was really bad.
4) Because I know dad is already receiving the best care he could and there is nothing anyone else can do for him at this point.
5) Because I looked at my kids and felt I could not let them down.
6) and finally because, selfishly so, I could not let myself down.