Susie

Laura and I retrieved my car from the HCC parking and went to the bank. I had asked her to drive me home. I knew I wasn't up to the task. I had known that when she had called me early in the afternoon, before Dad had gone to the ER, and she had agreed. As we pulled out of the bank, my phone rang. "Where are you? I'm here." It was Sue, my little sister. "Where?" "At the hospital. By the ER." "We'll be right there. We've just left." Laura dropped me off and headed home in my car. Sue and I went back into the ICU to be with Dad. Sue went in and talked to the nurse. She went to Dad. She stroked his arms. She checked his legs, his arms, his sides. He was bruised from so many IV's. He was thin and frail. I hadn't seen all of his bruises. Then the nurse asked me if I wanted to see the photos. The hospital takes photos of all the patients when they are moved up to the ICU. He had so many bruises. I knew the blood-thinners caused him to bruise easily but I hadn't realized how much these trips to the hospital had done to his body, the pokings and proddings, the IV's and whatnot. Then the nurse showed me a very bad mark on his tailbone area. How did he get it? Had he tried to get out of bed and fallen? Had one of the caregivers not told me because they felt they had not done their job? Had they been asleep when he had tried to get out of bed? Did they feel guilty? Had the idiot agreed to help him walk to the bathroom again after I had specifically told him not to, only to have Dad fall in the process? It's too late now. It didn't cause his death. Sue leaned in close to his ear. "Hi, Jim. It's Sue, Donna's youngest daughter. I'm here with Cindy...." She continued speaking to him in a sweet, low, comforting voice. I wonder what she said. Did she thank him for being there for her at some of the times when her own father wasn't? Did she tell him everything was going to be okay? Not to be afraid? Did she say something about God? Or about forgiveness? I didn't ask her then. Maybe I will when I see her at Christmas. During the whole time after he was resuscitated, I only saw him do one thing. Once. Once he licked his lips. His mouth had been so dry the last week. I had brought petroleum jelly and lip balm to the hospital. His lips had become chapped. The idiot had decided to put wet lip swabs on them. I told him, perhaps not in my nicestvoice, that you don't treat chapped lips with water. How did that man manage to raise FIVE children without killing them? I don't know. Maybe he started with fifteen and only five survived. That would make sense. Sue was so comfortable with this setting and with Dad's condition. She was a paramedic for fifteen years and an EMT for many years before that. It is part of her domain, not out of her comfort zone. She would have not felt lost during Code Blue in ER Number 8. I was so glad to have her with me then. The nurse asked if I wanted to be called if he started making a turn during the night. I said yes. We went home about an hour later.