I, unfortunately, had a premonition

Wednesday morning, 4am. The phone rings. No, I won't pick it up. The caller ID says it's my sister. I DEFINITELY won't pick it up. The flashing image I had right before I fell asleep crosses my mind again. Shit. Hello? Dad called an ambulance. He's going to the hospital.

Less than 10 minutes later, I arrive at the emergency room. The nurse takes me to my sister, who is in tears. There was some kind of incident with the paramedic. The nurses had him leave he was upsetting everyone so much.

We sit and wait. We hear the words "26% Congestive Heart Failure".

Not again.

M says his blood sugar level was 388 last night. Holy crap.

He called the ambulance because he couldn't breathe and his chest was tight.

After changing their minds about a million times about what they want to do, the doctors move him to MICU. We follow him upstairs and wait some more. Finally, he is settled, we talk to his nurse, and then leave him to rest a little. He's supposed to be going in for a Pulmonary-Artery Catheter.

Me, I have to go to work. M takes school off that morning for lack of sleep. I go to work blurry-eyed and in a daze. At 5, my boss sees me and asks what's wrong. I'm sent home to see how Dad's doing. My boss is a good man.

My sister has been elected the person who calls the hospital for updates; MICU asks that all families do this. I haven't heard from her all day. I managed to call my mom and my other sister to tell them what's going on, as far as I know. Finally, at 6, after still not hearing from my sister, I toss out the rules and call the hospital myself. The catheter has been rescheduled for tomorrow because Dad's blood is too thin from the new meds he's been taking. Harry and I go to visit; he looks better. He has been very accepting and compliant all day. He's finally listening to the doctors when they say he needs a pacemaker. I think he's finally scared.

The next day rolls around. My boss tells me to immediately go home when I show up for work. I tell him I'll stick around for a few hours, seeing as I can't do anything at the hospital while he's getting the catheter done. My boss tells me to leave as soon as Dad's out of the procedure.

The doctors are going in to see if the quintuple bypass performed 9 years ago has deteriorated. Since my dad didn't give up smoking or drinking after his first, second, or third heart attack, they're afraid for the worst. They go in and find that all the work is holding up fine. Life is full of surprises.

After hearing this bit of information, my father suddenly becomes non-compliant. He gives the nurses and doctors a hard time. He wants to go home. He's thinking about not getting the pacemaker. Dammit all to hell but he is such a pain in the ass.

The doctors tell him he can go home on Saturday and then come back on Wednesday for the pacemaker. He's grouchy about it but agrees to it. On Friday, the doctors decide they don't want to release him. They feel he would be better off there with nurses at his side until the pacemaker's put in. Dad agrees to it... at first.

Sunday morning, he calls my sister and demands she come get him right now. He leaves the hospital. He's been home since.

Luckily, he's still going in for the pacemaker this morning. He's there right now. I've developed a cold over the passed few days, so I haven't been able to see him. And I won't be able to see him for the next week. I just hope I didn't transfer the bug to him BEFORE I knew I was sick.

My sister had it out with him on Sunday. He expects too much from her. I agree. She is not his mother or his wife. He was such a cruel bastard to her on Sunday as she ran around picking up his meds and getting him settled at home.

The way I see it, she doesn't owe him a damn thing. He left us when we were children. He never offered us love, only critizisms. I've learned to care about my father but not to get too close because, well, he bites the hand that feeds him continuously.

I've prepared myself for something like this to happen over the years. Something like this is inevitable when someone is given a second and third chance to fix things and they don't. The doctors have told him over and over again that the drinking and smoking will be the death of him, but he won't listen. He still holds that child-like mentality that he will live forever.

M has not prepared herself at all. My father has always been a very strong and willful man. Nothing seems to stop him. So when this happens, it knocks her for a loop. She sat and cried while I just sat. It's not that I don't care; everyone knows that I do, even though they have told me not to time and time again. It's just that I know that this is how it's going to happen.