Beauty for Ashes on April 27…Part 1

I’m writing it down because it is good to remember.

My Dad called that morning…”Kelly, I’m headed home to have Mom take me to the ER.  I’m having chest pains and I feel nauseated.” I scolded him for waiting–he had been having pains since the night before.  And I knew if he was voluntarily going to the ER, it was serious.

(For the record, due to some tornadoes and storms that had passed through that morning doing a lot of damage, my mom was unable to get through to 911 when she first called.)

My Dad is not “old and feeble”. In fact, he hasn’t really changed his pace at all over the years.  He’s a farmer/construction worker.  He goes full speed ahead six days a week. He is never sick.

Dad is our family’s patriarch.  He’s the “well of wisdom”.  He answers our questions, gives advice, and is, in general, the rock that makes everything seem secure.  Since we live on their farm, we’re all the closer to my parents–feeling more like an extension at times.

So I threw on some clothes, grabbed Jax, and ran out to jump in the car with them as they left.

Ten minutes from the hospital, he began to fade. This cannot be happening. He started squirming, leaning over, and then back, grabbing the door handle, then the dashboard.  I told Mom she had to drive faster–run the red lights–pass the cars.  I called 911 to try to get them to meet us with an ambulance but we were driving there faster than they could meet us.

He couldn’t get out at the ER.  He was gray and barely able to talk.  I ran in to get someone.  We came out to the car and he looked at me and weakly said, “I love you”.

They took him back and wouldn’t let me come with the baby.  I paced the ER floor and prayed.  My mother came out almost hysterical: “He’s telling me he’s not going to make it!  He’s telling me goodbye! He said, ‘Don’t worry about me, I’ll be in a better place.’  Call the church and get them to pray!”

I almost fell down in the floor overcome with fear and grief.  I tried to call someone and couldn’t get anyone.  A lady in the ER offered to watch Jax.  I ran back to my Dad.

“I love you”, he said.  The feeling of helplessness is so raw and so distressing.  I couldn’t do anything.  I told the nurses, “Please do something, he’s dying!”

They took him back and left us waiting, wondering in the waiting room.  My mother had her hand over her mouth, crying, saying, “I can’t handle this…I can’t handle this.”  I mechanically spoke words that I knew I was supposed to say. “Mom, God is sovereign.  God has already ordained just the number of days in Dad’s life”. I said those words, but honestly, I was still just as terrified of losing him.

An older man walked in…“Someone called and said you needed a chaplain”. My mom looked up and cried with desperation, “Did he pass away?”  “Oh, no, he said. I’m just here to be with you.”

My husband and sisters came soon and my brother just cried on the phone, feeling even more helpless from Colorado.

Finally, the nightmare ended, and the doctor came out to tell us he would be OK.  They put a stint in an artery that was blocked 100%. They would have to do three more in a few days.

When I got home, I was emotionally drained.  I just sat down and stared ahead, taking in the dramatic morning, praising God for his mercy over my Dad and wanting nothing more than to simply rest.

But rest would not be found today….

Read Part 2