Blurry. And Stuck.

When the phone rang and the caller ID said that it was my father's number, I picked up right away. He almost never calls me and it seems whenever he does, there's something wrong.

"Hey Dad," I said.

He said my name and my heart picked up its pace.  The tension in his voice was obvious. It sounded like it did the time he called to tell me that my mother was in the ICU on dialysis.  

"What's going on?" I asked, "How are you?"

"Not too good," he responded, "I had a mini-stroke."

The words took a second to sink in and so, because he'd continued to talk, I was trying to get the pieces of the story to fit together, like some kind of three dimensional, floating in mid-air, puzzle.

Two days ago, he'd woken up to find his vision blurred.

Did he say two days ago? Two? DAYS ago?

He was seeing double of everything. When he went to the mall to walk, the floor looked slanted.

He went to the mall to walk when he couldn't see right?

He called the doctor and they sent him to Dr. S and he diagnosed a mini-stroke and said that there wasn't much they could do.

Isn't it important to see if he has blockages? Aren't there tests that have to be done? Why did they send him to an Opthamologist?

"How did you get to the doctor's dad? Did you drive yourself?"

"Yeah. And it was hard to get there, too. It was hard to drive."

Oh my god. Oh my god. I'm not ready for this.

Eventually, from what I could gather, my dad's doctor is going to do a complete physical work up, but there is little in the way of treatment for the mild stroke.  It should get better on its own and in the meantime, he's talking about getting a patch to cover one eye, as that fixes the blurred vision.

It is hard to separate how I feel about my dad's health complications from how I feel, generally, about our situation as a family.  And that is hard to separate from how I feel about my family without my mother in it. 

My mother was the glue that stuck my father to the world, socially speaking.  My father went to work and worked hard and came home and worked around the house and that was basically it, until he retired and started to make wine for a hobby.  My dad never socialized with his coworkers.  He doesn't have any buddies.  He has no pastimes and nowhere to be or go, in a social sense.  He owns apartments, for which he does all the maintenance and upkeep and that functions, now, as his work. And his hobby.  Right after my mother died, he joined an Over-50 Singles Group.  He had a couple girlfriends and, I think, became somewhat disenchanted.  I don't know. We don't really discuss much. 

He is a remarkable man, my father.  He has done remarkable things. Truly remarkable.  I may have written all about this somewhere else, but I can't find it.  My dad grew up in Italy, where he lived through World War II and watching his friend get blown up by an old landmine.  Where he tended sheep and found his father, a master carpenter, dead in the wood shop when he was only three years old.  He was 16 when he came to this country.  He spoke no English.  He had $50 in his pocket.  He lived with his aunt in a two room apartment that had no furniture.  He took two jobs and went to high school and made his own luck and mine too.  He worked as a builder, a bowling alley manager, a steel worker.  He built the house in which I grew up and the apartments that remain a source of income for him now.  He planted and grew and tended and cleaned and organized and fixed and built and and and and. 

But he is shy and socially anxious.  He feels out of place and inferior and undereducated, sometimes, I think.  He is closed and difficult to read.  He worked and worked and worked and saved and saved and sacrificed to make a better life for my sister and I and for that I am deeply and utterly and completely grateful. 

One of the things I dreaded after my mom died, was that my father wouldn't be able to care for himself.  To my knowledge he'd never, ever stood in front of a stove (unless he was fixing it,) or went grocery shopping, or clothes shopping or made his own doctor's appointments or gotten his own medicine from the pharmacy, or used a computer or a credit card or a cell phone. You get the idea?  Much to my surprise, he did well.  He made his own appointments.  He learned to use my mother's cell phone and how to order his meds online.  He learned how to cook things and figured out the need to carefully read packages, lest you come home with tuna in OIL vs. tuna in water.  He's been doing all right.  Nevertheless, the little sister and I want him, need him, to move closer.  We've talked, cajoled, pressured, persisted, and haunted to no avail.

He is as stubborn as an Old-Country Goat.

Which has been more or less fine with me.  Truthfully, I haven't been in any hurry to sell the family home or uproot him.  I know that he's afraid and that letting go of the house and his apartments, somewhere in his mind, is tantamount to being dependent and giving up all that he worked for (my father is financially solvent and will probably die with a vast sum left over--amazing if you think about that measly 50 bucks.)

But with this latest? Ahhh, shit.

I'm a goer. A doer.  A fixer.  An I'll-be-right-there-even-if-I-have-to-drive-all-night-helper.  Knowing that the roots that I've laid down here are so deep and right this minute, don't have any give, knowing that I can't just go when he needs me...it's so, so hard.  I can't adequately express how helpless, how hamstrung, how stuck I feel. 

I know, though, that he's an adult.  He's living the life that he wants to live.  I respect that.  But also knowing how much easier his life could be, here with us, surrounded by grandchildren and willing, hardworking, sons-in-law, and the smell of food cooking for him, made with love by someone else, well, that makes me want to shake the shit out of him.

And then there's this: I read that up to 20% of people who have mini-strokes go on to have a major stroke within 90 days.

To me, it feels as if somewhere, a silent, invisible, count-down clock just started.

Comments

[Lora]

this post has haunted me since you put it up. I kept it on my reader, as if I'd figure out the right thing to say or something.

I'm thinking of you and your dad, and your sister too, and the rest of your family all the time.

[Julie @ The Mom Slant]

I'm so sorry. I hope he moves closer (though I can understand why he's reticent to do so, if only symbolically).

[mrs. chicken]

I'm sorry. And I'm thinking of you. It is so hard not to be there. So so hard.

[shriek house]

I'm so sorry. My dad had a stroke about 15 years ago (he's still here! and mostly just fine!) and I know that ticking feeling very well. The one thing they couldn't really help was his compromised vision, but he did meet with a visual therapist once or twice to learn some coping techniques. Your father may want to look into that possibility. Also you didn't mention, but I wonder if he should ask the doctor about a daily aspirin or blood thinner like Coumadin. (Really, the asking the doctor part is important, because the answer depends on whether his stroke was caused by a clot or a bleed.) One last helpy thing - this is the time to investigate long-term health insurance options.

Your father sounds like an amazing man. And you, you are an amazing woman for respecting his life, his decisions, even though they may not be exactly what you would choose for him. I wish you courage as you navigate this new terrain. It ain't easy.

[caramama]

I'm so sorry to hear about your dad. I hope he heals up fast and smoothly. He sounds so amazing!

He reminds me of my very italian grandmother. Why is independence and stubborness so strong with us italians? It took a "minor" heart attack at 92 (!) to final get her to move in with my mom and dad.

I hope you guys figure out some way to work it all out.

[mamatulip]

The way you describe your father's life and his work ethic reminds me of my husband's grandfather.

I'm really sorry. I'm sending you love and strength. xoxo

[Kelly]

I know you can't help but think of that 20%. And I completely understand you needing to have more control over this situation, and to have him nearby. When my mom was going through chemo, it was ridiculous to me that we had to exist apart. Not fair. We should be able to help!

I'm thinking of you and your father...

[sarah]

I hope your father is doing better, and I hope you are well. Perhaps this experience will convince him to move closer.

[Sam]

I had similar issues with my father. He was 700 miles away and I tried to get him to move in with me, move closer, anything. And I hated having him so sick, the days I couldn't contact him and had to find someone to check on him, to make sure he wasn't hurt...I wanted to be there but was a single mom and had to work and take care of Chicken. GAWD. Sorry for the novel, your situation totally brought me back to 2005. Lemme know if you need to vent at someone who has been there..

[Rachel]

Oh, I just had to comment on this post. I can really relate! It's a long story, but my dad had a mini stroke (and mini heart attack at the same time) last fall. To complicate things, my mom was across the country at the time, taking care of my brother's toddler b/c my brother and his wife were at the hospital NICU with their new baby. Are you following this? It was a crazy time. I am the child who lives closest (at 3 hours away) and he was in the hospital 5 hours away b/c they live in a rural area. I was able to drop everything and go be with him, but my mother in law had to come stay with my family b/c I'm a SAHM to 3 young kids and my husband couldn't take that much time off work. I was feeling so pulled in both directions! I knew my dad needed me, but so did my kids. Sigh. The good news is my dad is fine now (no residual deficits from the stroke or heart attack thank God) and it's been over 4 months with no more issues. I hope your dad recovers quickly too!

Also, I'm sure he's getting excellent medical care, but make sure he gets a full medical work up. He may have atrial fibrillation (a very common heart arryhthmia that can cause tiny blood clots that can travel to the brain) or another treatable condition. A simple blood thinner may be all he needs. I just wanted to let you know that you are not alone. And I really enjoy your blog :)

[Fairly Odd Mother]

Wow, I'm sorry. Your father sounds like a remarkable man. I'm going to keep hoping for that 80%.

[Mandee]

So, so sorry. We've been living the same nightmare with my grandparents for nearly 2 years. My grandfather only relented to moving when it was very clear he couldn't do it with just my grandmother's help anymore. He passed away a month ago and now she's back at their house (3 hours from me, 7 hours from the rest of our family) alone. It's so hard to know what to do. I will say that we changed our minds about forcing them to move after seeing how my grandmother - who had always been amenable to moving - reacted during the 2 months she was up there. I'll be hoping for a best case scenario to unfold for you and yours.

[Julie @ Mommy Said What?]

I'm so sorry for you. Also? I think you just pinpointed the moment that role-reversal occurred in your family, when the parent becomes the child. I wish you all the best.

[Laura]

I'm sorry to hear about this. I also am a do-er/fixer and I can identify with your frustration with this situation.

[Chibi Jeebs]

Oh, shit. I'm sorry to hear this. I'm sorry he's not closer. I'm sorry I can't give BOTH of you a hug. :( I'll keep him in my thoughts.

[-R-]

I'll be thinking of your dad.

[Michelle]

I am sorry to hear about your dad. If up to 20% of people who have mini strokes go on to have major strokes, doesn't that mean that over 80% don't?

[Caren]

Im so sorry, TNG. Wishing you (and him) all the best.

[annettek]

I wish there was something I could say to make it better. I do know how hard it is when a parent is not well. Sending good thoughts...

[The Domestic Goddess]

Oh Dear. Frightful.

[Manic Mommy]

I'm so sorry! I'm so glad it was minor.

How about you and your sister gang up on him to have him at least stay with you guys for the next 90 days? In the meantime, look into a management company for his apartments and shut the water off to his house. Nothing permanent. Treat it like a vacation - one that you'd like to make permanent.

Also, he's Italian; use guilt. It'll probably work.

[Anna]

I'm so sorry. I can absolutely relate - a few years ago my dad had a series of mini-strokes. One "big/mini" stroke that ended in a hospital visit, and then what they think were a few more mini-strokes that only resulted in mild dizzy spells. The good news is that he is completely OK now. He has to take a shit ton of blood thinning medicine, but the strokes never escalated. I hope the same for your dad.

[jodifur]

I'm so sorry.

[anne nahm]

Thinking good thoughts for you and your dad.

Don't ask Dr. Google. He recently told me that according to my symptoms, I was suffering from Bone Marrow Transplant rejection, which would freak me the eff out ... if I'd ever actually had a transplant.

[Samantha]

And also, Dr Google is SO not your friend right now. You don't know specifically what's going on with his physiology right now, so don't assume the worst. If you're curious about tests and treatments etc labtestsonline.org is a good place to go for general knowledge and it doesn't try to scare the crap out of you. Also, if you want, check out the American Stroke Association for information, very factual, limited scary.

[Samantha]

So, I'm a nursing student, and am set to graduate soon. And though it doesn't help it be less scary, from a medical standpoint, it's better that he had a mini-stroke (the also call them transient ischemic attacks, or TIAs) before a big stroke (also called cerebral vascular accident - CVAs or sometimes "brain attacks").

Usually, people recover just fine from TIAs, and with a thorough evaluation and treatment, you can avoid the big one. I know it's scary, I went through the same thing with my dad and my grandpa, but they were treated and never had a big stroke.

If you're dad isn't one to take his meds when he needs to, stress to him the importance of doing so, it can very literally save his life.

[Swistle]

Aw jeez. What a difficult and scary situation. I don't even know what to hope for!

[Motherhood Uncensored]

Between him and my mother calling FROM the hospital with her heart issues and our crazy children, our parents are going to drive us completely insane.

I hope you're able to convince him to come out. Just tell him there are plenty of Goodwills out in your neck of the woods that he can shop at. xo

[Erica]

Oh Jesus. First of all STOP READING! GAH! You'll kill yourself with worry if you read any more about mini strokes.

Secondly, I'm so, so sorry. I know exactly where you're coming from when you talk about losing your mom, but this? This I don't know. I can tell you that just reading about it made my stomach fall into my feet and my breathing speed up. I can't imagine.

I'm totally willing to drive and help pack your dad up so we can get him close to you and The Little Sister. He needs you whether he wants to admit it or not.

[jive turkey]

I'm so sorry to hear about your Dad. Hoping my hardest that things will be healthy from here on out, and that maybe he'll reconsider a move.

[Tessie]

Oh, I am so sorry. It's so great to read what you write about your dad. I hope he's around for a long, long time.

[BMom]

Wow. We're in such similar, yet different, situations.

That count-down clock started for me two years ago next week. And I'm oh so thankful for the two years and hope for many more. I'm so blessed in that I have an incredible, amazing stepmom to help. I thank God for her, every day. But we live 5 hours apart. And I want to be there, often. They don't tend to call me until a couple days after an event. All of your comments in italics struck home with me, so similar to my reactions. But I have three kids, a job, a home and unfortunately, though my instinct tells me to run, and go there, I'm pulled here too. And it's an awful feeling.

I guess that's why I'm writing/commenting. I know that feeling you are experiencing, I know it well. It probably doesn't help to know I'm going through it too, but please know you have so much empathy and understanding from me. Also, a huge thank-you. I don't write/have a blog/write well, but to read your words written in such a fantastic way is incredibly helpful to me.

Thanks - and I'm thinking of your Dad, your sister, and you as you go through these times.

[Kader]

Oh. man. That is so scary.
My dad had a series of strange stroke-like events (they weren't termed mini-strokes) many years ago. He hasn't had any since that week when he had 3. It was really scary, but he seems to be ok. I hope the same is true for your dad.
He sounds like a practical person, even if he is stubborn. So maybe he will realize that moving closer makes sense. I'll be thinking of you and your dad.

[slouchy]

oh, sweetness. i'm sorry. he sounds like an incredible person. maybe he'll be frightened enough by this mini-stroke to be more receptive to your and your sister's arguments, to consider moving close to you. having a scare like that can shift priorities and erode longstanding stubbornness.

i will hope.