Dad

The past week has been really rough on my family. The day came that we were hoping would never come. Let me start from the beginning.

Last Sunday my mom called to inform me that my dad had been admitted to the McKay Dee Hospital in Ogden. Although I was extremely concerned, I kind of thought this would be a routine visit. For those of you who don't know, my dad is diabetic and his health has plummeted dramatically the past 1.5 years. He has been in and out of the hospital more than I'd like to remember and has had a few of his toes amputated. The doctors have had major concerns with this recurring infection in his leg and last Sunday reported that infection was so bad that there only choice: amputation, starting just below the knee. Monday morning mom called and shared the dreaded news that my dad's surgery would be the following morning and I felt instantly sick to my stomach. I always had a feeling that this was going to happen some day, but wasn't prepared for when "some day" became "today." The night before his surgery, I fell into a bit of a depression. I kept thinking "this is my dad's last night with his leg." My eyes welled up with tears thinking about how helpless he must feel knowing that after tomorrow, his life will never be the same.

Tuesday my mom called and reported that the surgery had gone well, no complications at all. She told me that Wednesday might be a better day to visit since he would be resting most of the day.

It was Wednesday morning when me, my two sisters, brother-in-law, and niece Jade, all crammed into Vanessa's little Hyundai for the trip up to the hospital. When I saw my dad for the first time, I didn't completely fall apart like I thought I would. I was definitely sad and absolutely hated seeing him in that hospital bed, but I had this overwhelming feeling that everything was going to be OK. That my dad was going to be OK. That it will be hard for a while, a long while, but that this surgery would ultimately improve his health now that the infection is gone. Plus, while visiting with my dad I could see in his face already there was some relief with the infection gone. His complexion looked pink and bright, instead of that ashen gray I had grown accustomed to seeing this past year. His overall demeanor seemed cheery and although he was cracking jokes, underneath the smiles I could sense I deep sense of loss and pain. You could just tell that despite his improved health, he was suffering immensely emotionally. That was the hardest part of the visit.


I'm so grateful for those of you who were already aware of this situation and prayed for my dad. I can testify that those prayers were heard and felt, every one of them. And I know the Lord will be carrying my dad through the hard months of rehabilitation and adjustment that lie ahead for both him and my mom.

And although I still get teary eyed every time I think about my dad in a wheel chair as he greets us for Sunday dinners, this quote from President Hinckley always seems to trickle into my head:

"It will all work out. It isn’t as bad as you sometimes think it is. Don’t worry. I say that to myself every morning. It will all work out. If you do your best, it will all work out. Put your trust in God, and move forward with faith and confidence in the future. The Lord will not forsake us. He will not forsake us. … If we will put our trust in Him, if we will pray to Him, if we will live worthy of His blessings, He will hear our prayers.”

Thanks again for all of your love and support...