There’s no place like home.

When I hear “There’s no place like home” it is sort of a conundrum for me, because I truly have two homes. I have the one where I actually live with my husband and we have our life, and another where I grew up and where my family is.

This usually isn’t an issue, except for the age old saying that “home is where the heart is,” and my heart is full! I can’t be in two places at once, so when something happens I’m just too far away sometimes.

So, where have I been? What’s been going on that I haven’t written or posted anything in over a month? My Bible Journey got put on the back burner, I’m two books behind on reviews, and there’s no way I was writing anything else during my time away.

So I’ll start from the very beginning…

Over a month ago now, one Sunday I had driven a girlfriend to Bakersfield from Vegas. It was wonderful to see the old gang, the great conversations and girl talk, and having a sleepover, which of course led to too many drinks.

Monday morning I hesitantly woke up not sure how bad my hangover was going to be. When I finally crawled out of bed and attempted to “become human” my phone rang.

Feeling like total shit I was in no mood to answer. When my brother called right back a second time, I got a pit in my stomach. I answered and he told me that our dad had gone to the hospital.

He was having pain in his chest, left shoulder, and it was working its way to his jaw and throat. He stopped working, went home, and my mom drove him to the emergency room.

Thank God he was smart enough to recognize his symptoms, and despite how stubborn he can be, actually took them seriously.

At that point, I didn’t know a whole lot other than I needed to get home! Before I could go home though, I had to get home. See the conundrum? I was still four and half hours from where my husband and I currently live and needed to get back there before I could even attempt to get to Illinois to be with my family.

I started driving, head pounding, I was trying to stay calm until I got more news. After all there was nothing I could actually do at that moment than try to keep my shit together and get where I needed to be safely. Then I started getting text messages.

Update: Dad had an angiogram to see what was actually going on. They had him on nitroglycerin and were treating him for symptoms of a heart attack. Depending what the results of the angiogram would be, he may just need stents put in, but if there were major blockages then he would have open heart surgery.

Open heart surgery! Seriously? That was when I really started panicking. Was I going to make it in time?

I had already called my husband and he set out trying to get me a flight. Even if I drove the 25 hours straight, (in addition to actually getting home), it would not be soon enough. I had no choice but to fly, if I could even get on a flight.

Update: Three of the major arteries were 75-100% blocked. If they were to put stents in they were looking at six to eight. They would be doing open heart surgery on Wednesday.

My saint of a husband spent over four hours just trying to book me a flight. Three times he put in my information to book the flight that was leaving that night, and all three times they disappeared. It would not let him book that flight for anything.

At that point in my drive my dad called me. I told him we were doing everything we could to get me a flight out there and that I would be there as soon as I could. All he said was, “you better hurry.”

Well of course, that did not help my nerves and feelings of helplessness being so far away. Was I even going to get to see him before surgery? Was I going to make it in time? What was going to happen to him? Was he going to be alright?

I instantly started praying. I prayed to God to help my daddy and to save him. To let me get there in time. To heal him. To keep him alive. Give my family strength.

After hours of trying, my husband was able to get me a flight to Illinois. I would be leaving as soon as he left for work the next morning. I was going to make it!

That night I scrambled around getting laundry done and going to the grocery store so he would be set for a couple days before he got into his own routine with me gone.

I called my brother to see if he would pick me up from O’hare. With that settled I packed my backpack with a couple changes of clothes, printed my ticket, and tried to get some sleep.

That morning I was a wreck! Mainly just with the fear of not thinking I was going to make it in time. Once I got there I knew everything would be fine, but in the meantime, feeling helpless, was awful. I was incredibly worried and scared.

With all the Corona crap going on right now I knew the hospital would be a different type of visit than times in the past, but I had no idea how bad things would be.

My plane landed at 2:00 p.m. and we were going to head straight to the hospital. My mom would then come down to the parking lot and sit in the truck with one of us while the other went to see him, and we would take turns.

My sister happened to go to the hospital at the same time we were planning to arrive, so we had time to kill. We went and got some food, because we figured we’d be there a while and neither of us had eaten all day. After we finished our Chipotle we headed to the hospital.

We both walked in regardless and figured if they stopped us then we’d “follow the rules.” At that point I didn’t even care. I was getting upstairs and going to see my father. They checked our temperatures at the door and made sure we had our masks on.

They informed us that only one person could go in at a time. We said, “yeah, we know, he’s gonna wait outside” but we both snuck up there anyway.

Luckily our nurse was nice and compassionate and knew the severity of what was going on and about his surgery the next morning. She was also a feisty little thing that could handle my dad if he got awnry, so that was good.

I am thankful she let us all sit there together. As much as I wanted to be around family, I knew dad must’ve wanted that too. Me and my brother stayed with our parents until visiting hours were over and we had to leave. Luckily mom got to stay the night at the hospital with him.

My brother and I left, got some beer and went to the house. We sat up for hours trying to stay calm, catching up, and having those great conversations you can only have after midnight. Nights like that, as somber still as it was, are the ones that make me miss home.

That next morning my brother picked me up and we headed to the hospital for my dad’s surgery. It was scheduled at 6:00 a.m. but they had some difficulty getting prepped so it didn’t start until 10:00. We had a long day ahead of us.

Mom said we didn’t need to be there, but really where else would I be? I would be there just in case. Even though I was trying to stay as positive as I could I was going to be there in case something happened or went wrong. I would be there as a family and with our mother.

We sat down in the waiting area with no one around us. Seriously, we were the only three people on that side of the entire room. We planned to be there all day so me and mom started playing Skipbo while my brother worked from his phone.

It wasn’t ten minutes before two security guards came up to us and asked us to leave. They said, “We’ve already told you that there can only be one person here, and you’re going to have to leave.” With that, my brother hopped up and went outside. He could work from the truck.

I looked at them and said, “Yeah, you told us that but frankly we don’t care. We will be here somewhere.”

They said, “Well, we’re sorry but that’s the hospital’s policy right now blah blah blah.”

As I was getting my purse I looked at them and pointing my finger said, “This is wrong. You know this is wrong right? This is wrong.”

They didn’t care. They literally escorted us out of the building. So as I wrapped my arms around my crying mother who already had enough on her plate, now on top of us getting kicked out and having to go through this alone, we sat on a bench outside. I figured they’d probably call the cops next for loitering.

The nurse who was to relay messages back and forth to us during surgery, also the one who tattled on us for being there, came out to see what was going on.

I looked at her and using my best and firmest but get shit done teacher voice said, “This is wrong that we can’t be here. I understand with this Corona crap that certain precautions need to be taken right now, but my dad is laying upstairs with his chest split in two. Assuming everything will go well, and it will; but God forbid something happens to him, there’s no way my mother will be sitting here alone if you have to give her that news. We will be here somewhere.

We are a tight-knit family and we will be together. This is wrong. He’s not having a gallbladder surgery. His chest is cut in half with his heart in someone’s hand as we speak. Unless there is someone here having their brain or spine worked on, I’d say he takes precedence right now and the family should be able to be here together. He could die. We are going to be here. My mother is not sitting here alone. This is wrong. You know this is wrong.”

She didn’t really have anything to say and went back inside. Since we were already kicked out anyway we figured we’d go and get some food, and see if we could bring mom back something. Heaven forbid to have outside food though.

I no sooner crossed the parking lot and got to the truck when mom called saying the nurse got us a “family room” that we could sit in together. Thank God!

Was that that hard? Why couldn’t they have done that from the beginning? Why wait until everyone was upset? By the way, there were six rooms that I saw in that area labeled as “family rooms.”

My brother liked to joke then the rest of the time that, “Yeah, I thought Sheila was going to get maced, but we ended up with a private room!”

A little while later that same nurse came in and said, “I want to start off with apologizing. The hospital needs to do a better job at taking into consideration the type of procedure that’s happening.”

You’re damn right they do! That’s all I was trying to get across from the beginning. This was a big deal surgery and they were trying to tell us we couldn’t be there for it. No way. I’d raise hell if I had to. I was going to be there!

Looking at my mom she said, “I knew you were upset, but you in the sunglasses,” turning to look at me, “you really got to me. I didn’t know if there were tears behind those glasses or not, but you really pulled on my heart strings with what you said and talking about your tight-knit family. You’re very lucky to have that.”

It’s so sad to think about all the people that were left to die alone because of this virus and policies. Their families dropped them off at the door and many never saw them again. It’s heartbreaking to think about that.

We were not going to be like that. If something happened to my dad I was going to be there and we were going to be together as a family. Even if it meant tailgating in the damn parking lot!

We sat there all day. About three o’clock the surgeon came in to update us. He said that the surgery went really well. They ended up doing four bypasses to remove the blockages.

They used a device called a Sternal Talon, which is basically like a chest zipper to close his chest. The cool thing is that the surgeon who did the surgery is the person who invented the device, and it is being used all over the world!

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They basically used a screw driver to tighten his chest back together. The Talons will stay in his body forever and he will set off metal detectors from now on.

They even sent the screw driver home with him when it was all over as a sort of souvenir. He did not have to do anything with it at home. I told him he should put it in a frame or something.

He stayed in the hospital for a week in recovery. My mom was able to go in there everyday and help take care of him. The hospital staff were not as observant and helpful as their jobs should’ve required. I am not going into all of that, because it would be long enough for an entire post in itself…

While in the ICU he could only have ONE visitor for ONE hour out of 24 hours. That was really hard on my mom because she thought she would be able to be with him all day. Once he was out of ICU then she could stay all day, but still only her. We were not allowed to come and visit him at all.

That’s why I am so thankful for the nurse before surgery that let us stay there with him. She knew the severity of what was going on and was kind to us.

From that point on I basically just tried to keep busy at my parents house. If I wasn’t mowing the yard, or pressure washing something, or cleaning out the fire pit, or cleaning the garage, etc.; I was doing anything I could to keep moving. I had to keep myself busy or I would just pace around.

I felt completely helpless and the only way I knew how to help was to keep the daily routines at the house going. I did chores, ran errands, and made food to have on hand and in the freezer. I just tried to stay busy.

After a week, on Tuesday Dad could come home! He wasn’t home but three hours before he started having trouble. But, we were not messing around with any of it and I called 911.

I drove mom to the hospital and actually got to sit in the waiting room with her. Once she was allowed to go back and see him, I was asked to leave. What!? I was already there. I had a mask on. There was not another single person in the room. But, I still had to go out and wait in the car.

He stayed another two nights in the hospital and came home Friday. Again, he wasn’t home but three hours and we drove him back in. He stayed another night in the hospital, but was able to come home the next day.

From that Saturday on, he’s been home and doing pretty good. Slow process, but he is healing and feeling good. He can’t drive yet or lift anything above ten pounds. At that point he was so exhausted, he wasn’t even trying.

Everyday got better and better. He stayed in good spirits most of the time. He’s doing a lot better with his eating and diet. My sister-in-law put together a binder of heart healthy recipes we’ve been trying which have been pretty good.

After what has been an incredibly stressful and draining month, I got home Friday. It was so bitter sweet to leave, well it always is, but this time was different. It was so hard to see my dad like that. “Men are supposed to be made out of steel or something” right? Actually, I guess now he really is.

It was very hard to leave them. I know they’ll be fine without me, but I got so used to being there. He would call for me to help him almost as much as he called for mom.

P.S. Walkie talkies are an excellent way to communicate in situations like this!

It wasn’t until I got home that I actually processed everything that had happened. I had my meltdown after it was all over and I was home. I must’ve felt like I needed to be strong or something there, and just stay busy and keep things running. I didn’t have time to be upset.

I don’t know. My meltdown was actually really odd. First I got incredibly angry at all sorts of things. People that I thought were my friends, but never reached out. People I thought should’ve done more, or at least tried to do something or be there.

Then the anger turned to sadness and compassion for everything I saw my dad had gone through. And the floodgates opened. I guess it was a good thing. Crying cleanses the soul. Then I got drunk.

All in all there were so many people that reached out for him and our family. The countless texts, calls, cards, visits, offers to help, etc. were all incredibly appreciated. Along with the recipe binder, my sister-in-law made us food at different times too which was amazing!

This was definitely not the usual summer trip home. I didn’t really leave the house a whole lot unless it was to help with something or within a short distance. If something happened and I needed to be there, I was almost always within 15 minutes away.

Once dad started feeling better and we knew he was going to be staying out of the hospital things got better. He’s getting healthier and stronger everyday. The most recent update is that he got the go-ahead to start driving again! That’s good because he was going stir crazy stuck at home.

We’re still waiting on when he can start therapy, but all in all everyone’s doing great!

I thank God and everyone for all the prayers. God is good!