Sunday morning, Oct. 7, I was sitting at the kitchen table with Dad's friend, Darrell, sharing our daily coffee. Talk was only about Dad. I had just shared with Darrell that this was the first day, 4 days after surgery, that I was finally able to relax just a little bit and believe that all was going to be OK. In a matter of minutes the phone rang and a sudden chill ran through my body before I could answer the call. It was the hospital. Dad's kidney's had stopped working and I needed to get to the hospital as soon as possible. Less than 20 minutes later, as I was rushing around throwing myself together, calling Collean, and waking Steve, a second call came ... ICU ... come quickly, he is not doing good. HURRY! 5 minutes later, Dr. Golino, the surgeon, called ... HURRY! HE IS NOT DOING WELL AT ALL.
I drove my 05 Buick SUV 100+ MPH down hwy. 41, racing urgently to Manatee Memorial Hospital in Bradenton from Ruskin. I had my own red squad car that morning.
I pulled into the circle, door-front drive, jumped out and raced to the elevators, down the hall, and into CVSICU. Nurses met us at Dad's room. A team of doctors had opened Dad's chest and were working heroically to keep him with us on Earth. This extraordinary medical team of doctors, ICU nurses, and aides, worked valiantly for 4.5 hours. In the end, Dr. Peterson came to us to explain that Dad could not sustain a blood pressure and that they were infusing 300 units of epinephrin every 7-10 minutes to keep him alive. I called my sister, LuAnn, to share the news and to get support to let Dad rest in peace. Of course, she agreed.
I stood at his bedside with my husband Steve and his special friend, Collean until he was resting comfortably. Slowly, the heart monitor slowed and eventually stopped. I laid my head on his shoulder, sobbed, told him I loved him, and sobbed some more. I said my goodbyes to the man who gave me life; the man who was ultimately my role model; the man I had missed so much while he was busy living his own life for 30 years; the man who I was so fortunate to know so much better the last 4 years of his life; For that, I will be eternally grateful. This is the man I have been so very proud of for my entire life. I hope he knew that.
The most blessed gift he ever gave me were his words the night before the surgery. He said, "I just had a long talk with God and I want you to know, that no matter what happens tomorrow, everything will be ok." With that, he turned to go back to his "office" and he just stopped for the longest time. I asked him what he was doing and he said, "I'm just looking at my airplanes." I think that maybe, just maybe, he knew.
So, while I will miss and love him for the rest of my life, I would like to add that I think that sometime after 8:00 AM, Oct. 7, 2012, God looked down and said, "Ed, it's time to come Home now." For another 4.5 hours, extraordinary humans worked heroically to keep him with us but his body simply would not cooperate. I am certain God must have been shaking his head and said, "Apparently you people were not listening to Me. I said, it's time to come Home." ...and Dad went. Now he is happy with my brothers Ross and Scott and his wife Jean. I look forward to seeing him again.
Rest in Peace, Dad. I love you.
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