5:01 AM, the non annoying sound of my alarm sounds. I was dreaming. Of what I can't quite recall, something with my mom and my brother in the same room with me talking about something. It's time to get up.
6:03 AM, we pulled into the parking lot.
Our arrival was announced through the entire hospital by my incredibly squeaky sneakers. Tried as I might to walk quietly the squeaking continues. Pop was wide awake already. He complained of poor sleep all night due to the snoring from his roommate. Which I have to agree, the gentlemen is rather loud. No wonder his son couldn't get much shuteye.
Two jackets did the trick to cover up the openings of the gown so that his bare ass and back are covered. He's not comfortable displaying the family jewels. Hell I would be too. Now that he's more modestly covered, we made our way down the hall, around the corner to the patient family room to make some phone calls. Pop called auntie and mom overseas to assure them everything will be okay and that we'll call after the surgery.
Almost two years later, we are again prepping for surgery to deal with pop's cancer. This time around things are much different. We had time to prepare for the battle adequately this year. The chemo, the rests in between, the time he had to condition his body to a healthier state should prepare him much better for the operation. Me too, I had more time to prepare. This time, I am not boarding a plane the day before the surgery, rushing from US back to Taiwan. I still remember that flight in 2004. The whole time on the plane, I was hoping we will not get delayed so that I can make it to the hospital in time to see pops before he goes under the knife. The doctor wanted to wait for me as well to see my dad. That was not comforting at all to know your father's doctor wanted to give you a chance to see him before surgery starts. As soon as I got off the plane, it was a mad dash to run to customs, praying that the lines were not long. I was already an hour late according to the scheduled operation time. Grabbing my luggage, finally headed out toward the gates to see who came to pick me up. Cousin Charles waved me down and after some pleasantry exchanges, he drove like a wannabe race driver, while calling my aunt at the hospital to inform her the pickup has been made and we are on our way there.
Not much conversation during the car ride. Hearts were heavy and really there's not much needed to be said at this point. Finally, when we arrived at the hospital, my uncle in law was waiting for me outside the hospital to usher me in, through the mazes to get to my dad.
The first thing I noticed when I stepped into that hospital room back in 2004 was how flushed my dad looked. His bloodshot eyes and his red face, a sure sign of his skyrocketing blood pressure. After dropping off my backpack and reassurance to my dad, I was rushed to see the surgeon. My aunt came with me this time. The surgeon came out of one of the OR rooms and still with his mask on explained how there are risks to the surgery, especially the stress that will be placed on his heart. He'll do his best.
With much fanfare, my dad was placed on the stretcher and along we go, the whole gang of his friends and family trailing along to see him off to the OR room. 2008, the trip to the OR was quiet in comparison. Just my brother and I with the nurses to escort him to the elevator. One short ride up to the second floor and it was time to see him off. I just said we'll be waiting for him on the third floor. He nodded and made a sound to indicate he heard.
Now we wait. The surgery was scheduled to start at 8:30 AM and last roughly 3.5 hours.
The wait begins.
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