As I type my computer's clock reads 2:33am.
Wednesday morning I received a call from my mom that my dad had pain Tuesday night. So bad that they called 911. After emptying more urine again that supposedly backed up from his prostate being swollen from his recent surgery, they associated that with his new pain and sent him home. (Don't get me started on that one!)
At 7am he wasn't better, but worse. My mom took him back and they did a CT. Since my father threw up from the pain he experienced earlier, they found out his diaphragm suffered a tear and his intestines/colon moved into his upper cavity, shifting his heart and left lung over, while collapsing the right lung. My mom requested an air lift to University of Chicago Hospital and we took off there. They knew my dad's body well from his previous surgery and cancer treatment. My mom wasn't going to have anyone else care for him now but them. Talk about being proactive! Way to go, Mom! In fact as the helicopter left with my dad, their Pastor's wife said she saw angels surrounding it as it flew off. I believe that!
After U of C's team made out their gameplan, he was in the O.R. around 5pm and came out around 10pm. All went well and he is breathing fully with no damage to the heart. Everything is reconfigured and put back into place.
So now we wait and pray. As I type I think about how my mom is doing. Is she sleeping? What will these next few days bring? Or weeks for that matter? As I type I drink my hot tea soothing a sore throat from such a dry hospital and taking many phone calls -- I sure used my cell minutes! I want to be there for them any possible way. Then I wonder if my mom will call at what is now 2:45am.
If this post sounds vague and choppy, forgive me. Just pray. We are in His hands.
UPDATE: My mom phoned this morning and my dad is doing well. They want him moving today as well as physical therapy like breathing exercises, etc. God is good!