Date: Tue, 20 Jan 2009 10:32:29 -0500 From: Blonde Blue eyes Subject: True Love 10 It's odd at that point I wasn't sure who was more upset me or him. The thought of him again being medically put back to sleep for lord knows how many hours to cut open his chest and do this thing, really just made me sick. At that point I was praying that this was all just a bad dream and I was going to wake up and find out that everything had just been a nightmare, but no such luck, it was all real. This had to be done. And once again, tomorrow morning, the man was being put back to sleep. And I get to sit and run a million different scenarios through my head about what was going to go wrong, and how after all this, I got my tease and now I lose everything because it goes wrong. The following morning, when the doctors came into the room to take him away again prep him for surgery, I wanted to cry, I wanted to scream and curse, but I did nothing more than kiss him on the head, tell him that I love him and wish him good luck. However, I did pull the surgeon aside and warned him – and I can remember this word for word: "If anything goes wrong and he doesn't come out of this alive, I swear to you, I will make you pay and in ways that you could never even imagine." And I was so serious about that and I think the guy even knew it too. He just nodded and walked away. So once again, there I was, left in an empty room of silence staring at the four walls, I really began to ponder more than what could go wrong, I sat back and thought over the past year of my life. Back to the point where I actually opened my big mouth and threw such a curveball at him, that not only was I gay (well I guess he knew that already) but that I had been in love with him – no that I AM in love with him, because by all means and every sense of the word I still am. But on the same token, I was blessed with the fact that he did not disown or hate me for my feelings towards him, because well in all honesty if you think about it, it isn't normal practice and not exactly what a father is expecting hear. Yet, the more I thought about it, I realized one thing that I hadn't thought about ever before, I never really did get a response to what I said. When I first said it, there was total silence and then I just ran off. Then the next time I saw him, I never even gave him the chance to speak I just told him to seriously just forget about it and move on, and enjoy his life. Then there was the hiatus of 4 months, where nothing was said at all, and then I go back home to find that the house had been turned upside down and inside out, and him looking as if, I don't even know how to describe that. And then this happens, 2 and a half months of nothing, 48 hours of relative communication and now back to me sitting and staring in silence. But after all that I'm left without a response to my initial statement, what a sick cycle of events. And I chuckled, not only sick but there's a man being cut open, and I'm sitting here like a selfish prick wondering if I could still have him as my lover. Finally after leaving my sick world of contemplation, I looked to the clock and saw that it was already 1:45pm and they had taken him in at 9:15am. And no one had said a word to me about anything. I bolted out of the chair and over to the nursing station and looked her straight in the face and said "Please just tell me you saw me with my eyes closed and chose not to wake me but he's out of the OR and ok." And she looked back at me and just nodded her head no. My heart just sank, it was over 4 hours already and he hadn't come out of the OR yet. And once again my brain set out on its whirlwind of thoughts as to what the hell has gone wrong, why was it taking so long, all they were supposed to be doing was a bypass. The whole thing was just insane, maybe God really was playing a sick joke on me, like sure you can have him back for 2 days but he's mine. I just stood there holding my head in my hands, I really could not believe this at all, it really was an absolute and total nightmare, one that I just wanted to wake up from already and find out that, that's all it was just a nightmare and everything was fine. No such luck unfortunately, it was all real, too real. I can only imagine what these people thought of me, what an insane lunatic I must be, then again I really didn't give a shit, this is who I was, this is what he meant to me, and if no one else could understand that well, too bad. But all that said (and thought) I picked myself up once again and headed back to the room to just sit and stare and ponder – a dangerous thing for me – but nothing I could do about it. Just as I sat down in the chair, one of the surgeons came in with a blank look on his face, and I didn't know whether I wanted to cry or die or what, but finally just squeaked out `well?' He just looked back at me and said "Well, he made it through and he will live," and at that point that was all I heard, `he will live', but then continued on, "but there was much more damage to his heart than originally thought, we repaired as much as we possibly could and the rest is going to have to heal on it's own. He won't be going anywhere for a while, we're predicting a while of cardiac rehab, and then he's also going to need a good deal of physical rehab as well, since he really hasn't moved in over 2 months, so we aren't completely out of the woods yet, but I do believe he'll make a full recovery." I just sat there and burst into tears, and in the midst of them said `thank you'. And finally they let me into see him. He lay there again, eyes closed, mouth shut, more wires and tubes flowing from him than I could even count. All I could think to myself is how is this man ever going to go back to normal, could this have been the man I knew a year ago? It was just an unbelievable thing, but no, I wasn't going to let myself do that, the man that I knew and loved is still in there somewhere, and I know he'll fight to come out, I just hoped that there was enough strength left to fight hard enough. I actually had to chuckle to myself, because I knew what this was going to take, and the amount of work and effort that was going to have to go into getting back to as normal as possible, but this was also a very stubborn man, who never liked the answer no or the inability to do something, so the following weeks were definitely going to be interesting to say the least. But then again I remembered something, when he went into surgery he couldn't speak, oh yea this was definitely going to be rough. And once again I just stood there at the foot of his bed staring at him, he did not look as if he was in pain, looked very peaceful actually (of course pain killers are a wonderful thing aren't they?). But as I stood there I wasn't exactly sure what I should do, sit there and stare as I have for the past 2 and a half months, walk away until the wake him again, I really just didn't know, once again I was lost. But decided on going to find out when they were going to wake him, and also to ask the surgeon if they though he would be able to speak again – that was actually something that was very important to me. Could I deal with him not being able to speak? Yes I could, I guess I really didn't care how I had him, as long as I had him, silent or not. As I walked away to go and find a nurse, I actually realized that after everything, all complications and problems aside, I really was one of the luckiest men in the world. I have someone with me, in whatever capacity who has in a way cheated death 3 times now. And it occurred to me, that maybe we really were destined to be together – maybe just as father and son, and as friends, but I knew at that point, I wasn't going to live anywhere else, there was never going to be anyone else – well I knew that one a long time ago. But as sick as it is, and as crazy as people would and will call me, I just wanted to be with him, and I was going to be one way or another. Haha, I really am sick – maybe I need to be in the psych ward myself. In any event I went to get the nurse to complain about waking him already, it had already been 2 hours and I wanted to see his eyes already, feel his hand squeeze mine back, I was once again losing my patience (haha once again me being the selfish prick that I am). But surprisingly enough she was willing to go and get the doctor to see if he would do it. And for the first time after 2 and a half months, this nurse actually took me aside and said to me "Look, I know what he means to you," and I thought to myself no..you really don't and she looked back at me again and as if she read my mind she said again, "yes, I really do understand, in the 30 years that I've been a nurse I've only seen devotion to a loved-one like you with your father 3 times. Different connections but in the family. There's nothing wrong with it, love is love regardless, and I really do believe that with your help he will pull through it." She smiled at me, patted my shoulder and then went off to find the doctor. And I stood there, absolutely shocked. I kept playing what she said over and over in my head, and looked back over to my father's bed, and thought to myself, could there really still be a possibility to this? A complete stranger was able to see how I felt, did he understand it? Or was I just spinning my wheels? But for the time being I was going to leave it at that, the more important issue now was seeing him awake and getting back to whatever is normal. As I walked back to the bed, I looked at this man that I loved so much and in so many ways, and started to laugh. The doctor looked at me, and then said he was going to lift the sedation, but it may take a bit for him to wake up, and I just stood there watching him just lay there, and I actually got the weirdest vision of myself laying there as a child, and him standing in my place, in the sense that something had happened to me years ago. And without even realizing it, he had opened his eyes and was staring back at me, no expression on his face, just open eyes looking back at me, and once again just like every other time, tears just started rolling down my face. The doctor was the first one to speak, and ask how he was feeling. He just did a `so – so' with his hand, and felt as if I had been punched in the stomach again, he still couldn't speak. But I recomposed myself, and kept telling myself, `remember he's alive, is making cognitive decisions and movements, that's all you can ask for now.' And I looked back at him and smiled and he smiled back at me, which definitely made me feel better. The doctor was saying something, none of which I was paying attention to, my father nodded and then the guy walked away, Dad just then looked at me and motioned with his finger – just like when I was a little kid and did something bad – but motioned to come to his side, and as I slowly walked over, his eyes followed mine, and when I got to the side of the bed, he took my hand squeezed it tight and then pulled me down into him, where I was now face to face with him, maybe 2 inches away from his face, and he whispered "I love you Michael, and thank you for being my son". Author's note: I apologize for the delay in posing. Questions/Comments blondeblueeyes@gmail.com