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Dr. Bob is Robert Hsiung, MD,
bob@dr-bob.orgShown: posts 1 to 8 of 8. This is the beginning of the thread.
Posted by Broken on February 15, 2005, at 12:39:49
In less than 10 days, I will walk out to the cemetary to visit with my father. It has been 21 years since his death, and as you can see below, it still is very painful, and very vivid in my mind. If you decide to read it, PLEASE be careful. It's somewhat graphic in detail, and I dont want to hurt anyone that is suffering already. I dont think it's "normal" to have this level of grief, and perhaps obsession with what took place after so many years. But I do cradle it like a child, and it's not something I can let go of, at least not yet.
I totally and completely worshiped my father, I still do. He was a very happy person. You know the type, the ones we depressed, introverted people despise. They're nice, they never meet a stranger, they actually light up a room when they enter it. My father was that way. When he came home after a long day, or even a short day, you knew it before he even got into the house. You'd hear his boots come up the steps, and he was whistling. Whistling!! The nerve of people, they are so happy they friggin whistle?! Give me a f***ing break. But he did, and I miss that as much as anything else.
You see, four days before my sixteenth birthday, we were sitting in our den having supper. Yes, we are r*dnecks, we eat supper infront of the television, not at the dining room table. It's just there to impress people.
Anyway, I had come in from school that afternoon, and dad had come home that evening, and we were enjoying our dinner, watching television as r*dnecks do. My father finished dinner, stood up to take the dinnerware back to the kitchen, and fell backwards, back into his recliner, unconscious. He had a massive heart attack. This was not his first one, and mother and I knew exactly what had happened. I went to the phone, we didn't have 911 then, but I had the ambulance number memorized, I still know that number today. I called, and told them our address, and the situation, and they said they had an ambulance on the way. My mother was talking to dad. He was making a choking sound, trying to get his breath, the kind of sound that never leaves your mind after you hear it. And every time he tried, my mother would say "Breathe baby, that's it, just breathe." And I had nothing to do. I sat there watching, listening, waiting. After what seemed an eternity, I called the ambulance service again, and repeated everything, and they insisted it was on it's way. It wasn't. I found out later that the driver of the ambulance lived on our same street, and his father had a heart condition. They had gone there, because he was scared his dad was the one that needed the ambulance. Dad was still attempting to breathe, mother was still talking, and I was still doing nothing. Some of you may know this feeling, if you don't, then I hope you never do. But, do you realize how utterly, and completely helpless you feel watching a loved one literally die in front of you? There's nothing you can do. He's breathing, his heart is beating, no CPR needed, so you sit, and you watch him die.
The ambulance made it to the house, they loaded my father into it, and mother and I jumped in for the drive to the local hospital. When we arrived, they took him into the emergency room ofcourse, and started working on him. I was extremely fortunate that the ER nurse was a very close family friend. She and the Doctor worked on dad, they were trying to clear his throat. At times, when people suffer a heart attack, there is an uncontrolled reaction, that expels whatever is in your stomach. In short, you throw up. A lot of the time when this happens, the patient will gasp for air, and suck the vomit back into the windpipe. My father had just eaten, not even 2 minutes before he had the heart attack. That choking, gasping sound, was him, trying to get air into his lungs, but it was vomit he had gotten, not air. You couldn't even see this physically. He had done it so fast, there was no trace of it on him, or even in his mouth. We didn't know it happened until the nurse came out and told us. She said "He is still alive, but I have never seen that much vomit sucked into the lungs." She was not a young lady, she had been an ER nurse for many years. If she hadn't seen anything like this before, it had to be bad, and we knew it.
Within five minutes, she came back out to tell us he was gone. They were cleaning him up, and I insisted on seeing him. I saw him. He was lying on the stretcher he came in on, covered with a white sheet, to just below his neck. He was warm, he felt alive. He was sleeping, ya know? I laid across his chest hugging him, talking to him, begging him to get up, he never did.
After I was escorted from the ER by, someone... I don't know who, the Doctor came out to speak with us. We knew this Doctor, he had a bad reputation as a physician. But in our little town of 2500 people, he was all we had. He told mother, "I listed the cause of death as accidental. He died from Asphyxiation. This was technically sort've true. The doctor knew that an accidental death would allow the insurance to pay for a lot more bills. He also knew we were poor. He was trying to help, in his own way. Mother asked him, "Was it something I did? Was it the food?" He said no, but before he could say anymore I lost it. My father died infront of me, and he, in my mind, had just told mother my dad choked to death on the food she cooked for supper. So I did what any self respecting son would do. I tried to kill him. Ofcourse, that didn't even come close to happening, there were people all over me, holding my arms, holding my waist, giving him time to leave. I wasn't a happy camper with those folks either, but they were family that had shown up after we had gotten there, so I didn't try to hurt anyone.
After things had settled down a bit, my mother started talking with the family, telling them who to call and so forth, and my aunt asked me to walk outside with her. I did, and she told me, "You can't cry. You have to be strong, your mother needs you to be strong now." She gave me instructions on what she thought I should do when we got home. I was lost in a daze, I am sure I was in shock, and I followed her orders. No crying.. Don't grieve publicly. Take care of your mom, you are a man now.
The fates conspired against my family that night. Had father not just eaten, there would have been hope. If he would've fallen forward when he collapsed, the chances of him sucking all of that s**t into his lungs would have been greatly reduced, he might've made it. If the moron that drove the f***ing ambulance would have come to the address he was told, we would have been to the Hospital quicker, and he might've made it. Any ONE of those things might have saved his life. Do you even know the odds of all of those things occurring at precisely the right time? They are huge, I think I figured it once. And do you know how long those events live in the mind of a fifteen year old child? Forever. I can see them all, I can hear every sound. I can tell you the phone number I called, I can tell you the bowl my father ate out of (I have it at my home now), I can tell you what we ate. I can tell you the exact conversation we had just milliseconds before he went down. I can tell you anything you could ever ask me about what happened from the time he went down until he was pronounced dead. That was over twenty years ago, and it is burned into my brain, etched into my memory, and it will be until I join him. That's how long it lasts for a fifteen year old kid.
So, this year, I will take my 4 year old son out to see his grandfather. It's important to me to do that for some reason, I guess it's because I know dad would be proud, and I want them to "meet". I apologize, I prefer to give support wherever and whenever I can, but today, I guess I needed some myself.
Posted by saw on February 16, 2005, at 4:33:21
In reply to 21 years...Definitely a trigger for some be carefu, posted by Broken on February 15, 2005, at 12:39:49
I am covered in goose flesh. My heart is beating rapidly (please forgive that), I am shivering, and I am crying.
Broken, you have written this in the most absolutely beautiful way. Your hurt and pain are etched in every line.
I lost my father in November last year. I did not know he was ill until he went into ICU. A day later he died. I was with him as I watched each organ fail, and I was with him when he took his last jagged breath. I will never ever, ever forget that. I will never, ever forget talking to him, touching him and loving him after he was dead. Yes, I do know. He was sleeping.
That is all I will say about me. I just wanted to mention it so that you would know how much I understand. More than just understanding though, I feel you are very courageous to write about it. And I feel you have every right to be grieving. Time makes no difference.
Tonight, when I close my eyes to say goodnight to my Dad, I will send your Dad a thought too. Later, I will close my eyes again and send you and your son a comforting thought.
Your Dad is surely very, very proud of you. He has every right to be.
Thank you for sharing what is so difficult and painful to share.
Sabrina
Posted by TamaraJ on February 16, 2005, at 17:49:38
In reply to 21 years...Definitely a trigger for some be carefu, posted by Broken on February 15, 2005, at 12:39:49
I have read your post at least three times, and I am still at a loss for what to say. I can not find the words to express my sympathies to the 15 year old boy who had to stand by feeling powerless, only to be told to keep up stiff upper lip and not outwardly grieve after having experienced such a loss, or the respect I feel for the good, strong person you have obviously become, or the gratitude I feel for you having shared this part of you with us. I don't think we ever completely let go of the grief we experience after losing a loved one, particularly one we worshipped and held in such high regard. But, I believe it is true that the pain we experience does diminish, with time, so that we are no longer consumed by it and can continue to function and, in time (our own time), live full and happy lives. I think we come to terms with our grief and our loss as time goes on by holding on to special memories, the belief that the person would have wanted us to carry on, our own desire to make the person proud, and the knowledge that the person will always have a special place in our hearts.
Thanks Broken for sharing such a profound part of yourself and your life experience. It touched me deeply.
Tamara
Posted by Broken on February 16, 2005, at 22:19:51
In reply to Re: 21 years...Definitely a trigger for some be carefu » Broken, posted by TamaraJ on February 16, 2005, at 17:49:38
Thankyou both for your kind comments. As I have said, sometimes the response itself is worth more than you realize. It was worth alot to me.
Posted by TamaraJ on February 22, 2005, at 22:50:28
In reply to 21 years...Definitely a trigger for some be carefu, posted by Broken on February 15, 2005, at 12:39:49
((Broken))
I am not sure of the exact date of the anniversary of your dad's passing (you mentioned in your post above "in less than 10 days"), but I just wanted to let you know that my thoughts are with you. Strength to you Broken, and take good care of yourself.
Tamara
Posted by Broken on February 23, 2005, at 9:22:27
In reply to To Broken, posted by TamaraJ on February 22, 2005, at 22:50:28
You just about hit it on the head. It's today. 23rd He died, 25th was the funeral, 27th was my 16th birthday.
Thankyou for the thought Tamara, I really appreciate it.
Chris
Posted by TamaraJ on February 23, 2005, at 9:35:34
In reply to Re: To Broken » TamaraJ, posted by Broken on February 23, 2005, at 9:22:27
Posted by TamaraJ on February 27, 2005, at 8:05:40
In reply to Re: To Broken » TamaraJ, posted by Broken on February 23, 2005, at 9:22:27
Broken,
Wishing you a Happy Birthday and many more. I hope the year ahead brings you much love, laughter, happiness, peace of mind and well-being.
All the best,
Tamara
P.S. I would have posted this on Social, but I didn't know if you would be comfortable with that.
This is the end of the thread.
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