St. Patrick's Day Going Home

St. Patrick's Day was a beautiful, unseasonably warm day in Milwaukee. With blue skies, sunshine, and 70 degree temperatures, we could not help but feel so good that our dad would breathe fresh air on this particularly meaningful day for our family. We tell our dad God and our loved ones are shining and smiling down on him today, this gorgeous and special going home day for him.

The thought of going home seemingly so soon post surgery began to affect our dad a great deal last night. He began to worry about his weakened state and his limited mobility. His doubts and fears about settling back at home began to set in and he suggested to our mom, Carmelo, and
Tony that he leave the hospital and head to a rehabilitation center. He, with good reasons, just did not feel ready to try independence at home. As a result, for the remainder of the night and into the morning, the five of us debated the pros and cons of a rehabilitation center for our dad. We know he is weakened and scared, but we do not want him to give up on himself.

This morning however, he accepted the challenge to moving from the hospital to home. Dr. Krishnan encouraged him well and reassured him that he would do better recovering from home rather than a rehab center. Carmelo, Gina, Tony and I talked again about home recovery together. We agreed that the most important goal now is to help our dad get as close to his presurgery baseline as possible. He will need to regain as much strength and mobility as possible before we move to our next phase, chemotherapy. We want our mom to be able to provide support, comfort and love for our dad and we do not want her to have all of the physical care responsibilities herself. We talk about splitting the next two weeks for our dad's care: Gina offers to have him with her family for the first week home and I offer the second week. We know he will resist. We know he does not want to burden us. We insist though. The most important thing is getting better. He agrees.

Our dad trusts being in Gina's care, as she is a nurse. Carl is with us at the hospital and, with his usual lightheartedness and sense of humor, reminds our dad that "he hasn't been paying $65,000 for his wife's education for it to go to waste." We promise our dad we will help him every step of the way and reassure our mom that we do not want her to do this recovery with him alone. Our mom resists, but tells our dad it is his choice. Our dad, surprisingly and without much resistance, agrees to the proposed plan, but wants our mom with him, of course. At discharge, Carl drives our dad straight "home." Our mom and I go home to pack, fill prescriptions, and prepare for the days ahead. Gina prepares the house, coordinates the home care logistics for his O2, the visiting nurse, and physical therapy. Her little ones, Carl, Sophia, and special birthday girl Gianna, anticipate with happiness that Nonnu will be at their house and they will help him get better.

While waiting to be discharged, I sit next to our dad and lean into him as he shakes his head. He is still -- as we all are -- in disbelief that all of this is happening. In exasperation, he looks up and says, "it has been 22 short, 22 long days since this all began..." I say to him this is so, so overwhelming, that he has been so amazing through this short, short time. He jokes that we are all "killing him with kindness," but I again remark how in awe I am of his strength and faith. He is remarkable and inspiring. I tell him how much we all love him and how proud of him we all are. I hug him and tell him we will get through this, we will. He says he really hopes so.