The next few days were probably the worst for me. I was fixated with the numbers on the screens next to my Dad's bed. A rush of adrenaline would come over me in waves with every tormenting beep of the monitors. I tried to chat to family and staff as normal, but my attention was quickly brought back to the flashing numbers on the screen.
I'd look around, the nurses would appear calm and unfazed, the consultants would continue their conversations with their teams. I'm sure they must be used to the panic-stricken look on the relatives' faces every time there was a slight change in the patient's condition. In all honesty I didn't know what all the numbers meant, and Google was not my comforting friend when I tried to find out.
My Dad went for another x-ray which showed that his lung was a complete "white-out", which they figured was the reason for his decline. A decision was made to insert a drain into the lung, within which 5 litres of fluid came gushing out. Some of the nurses said they had never seen so much come out of one lung - the relief of pressure must have been immense.
At this point, he was still in an induced coma, however it's not good to keep someone induced long-term and so they decided to try and bring him round and see how he coped being awake with the breathing tube in. I remember we all sat round anxiously whilst we waited for him to come around. Cue our slight overreaction when he started moving his hand and lifting his arm off the bed, to which the nurses responded "He is allowed to move his arms" - fair point.
What I've learnt from the ICU is that there will always be setbacks and you need to be prepared for them. My Dad had to be induced again, because he wasn't coping with just having a breathing mask on. We then had to give permission for them to perform a tracheostomy on my Dad. For those that don't know, a tracheostomy is quite a common procedure (particularly in the ICU) where an incision is made to the windpipe so a tube can be inserted to help someone breathe. This can also be attached to a ventilator if additional oxygen is required.
It was nerve-wracking waiting to see my Dad after having the trach put in and the thought was always in the back of my mind that he could potentially need a trach for life. However, it was the best decision we made as he could finally be taken off the sedation and start to work on his recovery. They could also let my Dad speak by controlling airflow to flow over the vocal chords. I remember the first time they used this and he kind of just nodded and went "Alright", like it wasn't a big deal and that we hadn't just been watching him lying motionless in bed for the last two weeks.
From there, physiotherapists came to see him to help build up his muscle as he had a lost an extreme amount of weight. Eventually, he was discharged from the ICU and taken to a respiratory ward. Once the trach could be removed he was then moved to a general ward. I remember one of the days we came to see him he just suddenly hobbled out of bed to go to the toilet. I remember we all looked at eachother like "WHAT?!", but hey, I guess my Dad is allowed to walk too.
In mid-December my Dad was discharged from hospital and thankfully, we got to spend Christmas together at home. The one good thing that came from this whole ordeal is that my Dad has finally quit smoking (I've only been badgering him for the last 20 years to quit). I feel like it's definitely brought us closer together as a family and we have opened up more.
For my Dad, the worst part was the hallucinations he had. It turns out he was hallucinating the whole time he was in the ICU. He thought all of the doctors and nurses were there to kill him and I can only imagine how scary that must have been when you're not lucid. Like being in a nightmare where you can't escape. To this day, I think the hallucinations have impacted him, but a recent visit to the ICU for a follow-up helped him confirm that what he thought he saw wasn't real. Out of everything we saw him have to go through, I never thought that, that would be the worst part of his experience.
Me and my Dad, approx. 2 months since he was discharged.
Now the focus is on my Dad getting stronger and I'm trying not to be too overprotective or worry so much, but it's always in the back of my mind. I cannot thank the NHS staff enough for saving my Dad in such a critical situation, from the care they gave to him, to the support they gave to our family. Once my Dad had been moved to another ward from the ICU, it was frustrating that there wasn't that same one-to-one care and there would be times my Dad would have to wait a long time for certain things but unfortunately that's where the NHS is under resourced and it scares me to think what would have happened without it. If we had to pay for the treatment my Dad received, I imagine it would have been in the £10,000s at least. Please don't take the NHS for granted and don't take your parents for granted either - I know I won't.
Lucy x
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