“That’s Not My Dad!”

I walk down the hall. About to enter unit 25. I stop. There’s a nurse on both sides of him. A man is squirming. He has mits on his hands. Wires all over his head. Eyes open, but not ‘there.’ A tube coming out of his mouth.

I take another puzzled look. I walk all the way back down the hall and ask the front desk lady in the ICU if they moved my Dad. “My dad is supposed to be in unit 25 and that’s not him!” She walks back down the long hall with me. I look on the whiteboard and it still says ‘K Hassler.’ I say “well it still says his name but that’s not my Dad.” The lady asks for me “Is this Karl Hassler? She says that’s not him.” They both nod and say “yes it’s him.” I go on my tip toes to see him from a different angle. I just start crying.

He looks much different from when I left him on Monday night.

Here’s the thing. He is moving in the right direction. Albeit slow. But still improvements. It’s a 2 steps forward, 1 step back sort of thing. They explain that’s what the ICU is. It’s very fluid.

I knew they did an EEG. I had already heard initial results. I didn’t know he was going to stay hooked up for 24 hours. So the wires on his head aren’t a ‘bad’ thing.

They took the straps off of his arms and put weighted mits on his hands so he can’t grab his breathing tube. Again. Not a bad thing, but different.

He was squirmy. So he’s much less sedated. They’re trying hard to not have to keep using the heavy sedation. So not bad. But different. And actually an improvement since he is able to somewhat handle being less sedated for periods of time.

I’m exhausted. Yet I wake up at 5:30am with back to back dreams that my dad had died. I immediately look at my phone. I have texts and a missed call and my heart drops. It wasn’t ‘anything.’ I text my sister to see if she’s awake. She’s not. Which is a good thing. I had clearly marked on the white board in his room:

‘Point of Contact: Corrie – Oldest Daughter’ and included her phone number. (I am NOT the person for that role.)

If she’s not awake, they haven’t called. Breathe Mandy. And Pray. They said things were headed in the right direction right before I left.

But that’s still not my Dad.

This is my dad. (Although 8 years younger in this photo 😉)

God’s got this. He’s had the perfect plan all laid out for my Dad before he was born. But what I would give for him to say ‘Love you, Mandy.’ right about now. In his quiet demeanor. A man of few words. He still said it after every conversation. And he will say it again. Someday. Until then, I’ll keep telling him…’Love you, Dad.’

~XOXO