My Dad

My father recently had a stroke and I was able to fly home to be with him and my mother for awhile. During that time and since, I have been reminded of my love for them and them for me, and of all the things they have taught me and continue to teach me. I feel so grateful to have them for parents and wanted to share a journal entry I wrote after this experience.......

Journal entry Sep. 24, 2009

Dad

A little over a week ago, I called home and got a hold of my brother Wade on the phone at my parent’s house. I was confused that he answered since I knew that Wade and Dad were supposed to be hunting. So, I asked why they were home. Wade said that he had brought Dad home because he wasn’t feeling very good and was mumbling. Right away I knew something was very wrong, such as a stroke, and my heart sunk to the bottom of my stomach. My first thought was that Dad had to get help immediately, or that he should have even gotten help hours ago. I kept thinking, “no, this can’t be happening. Not my dad. He’s so young and healthy. Maybe it really won’t be as bad as I think. Just a little stroke. He’ll get better. Not my dad. He is so great. He can do anything, fix anything, he’s always right. I have so much more life I want to share with him and my family.”

Nate called his dad and he told us to have an ambulance pick dad up. We were on the phone for the next several hours, making sure dad got to the hospital, trying to contact mom who was refereeing a volleyball game somewhere unknown to us, calling my siblings and other family members. Everyone was just shocked and overwhelmed. MC, Bryce, Aly, and Tiff all left that very night to drive home from Provo to Billings and got there early the next morning. We finally got a hold of mom, and Nate had to break the news to her. She completely lost it for a moment and then quickly regained her composure and went into action mode. Nate’s dad was a blessing because he went down to the emergency room and met Wade so he wasn’t alone. Poor Wade was scared and didn’t really know what was wrong with dad. He just thought he was sick and that he should take him home because that’s just what we do in our family if someone is sick. We just don’t go to the doctor. He took down the tent and loaded all the gear, even loaded the 4-wheeler by himself. Once Wade had packed up camp and was driving, he said he got to a point on the road where he didn’t know which way to go and dad was able to use his good arm to point the correct direction to get them out of the mountains. I guess they had set their alarm for around 5am but didn’t wake up to it. Wade said he woke up around 9am and went out of the tent to start a fire and make some breakfast. Later he saw dad kind of crawl out of the tent and fall. Dad couldn’t talk at all, just sort of mumble. Wade thought he just need to rest for awhile, but when dad wasn’t getting better, finally decided to pack up and take him home. They got home around 5:30pm, and I called around 6:00pm. What really scared me was when Nate had Wade put the phone to dad’s ear and he couldn’t say anything. And, once the ambulance got there, we could hear that he didn’t even know his birthday. All dad could do was nod in the affirmative to everything.

That was a very long night for everyone I’m sure. I felt so helpless and so far away. I knew all my siblings would be there that morning. I knew my mom would need help and support and I knew the best thing for dad would be to see his entire family. I wanted to be there to grieve and hug and cry and laugh and just go through it together. There were lots of tears and prayers. We started a family fast that night. By the next morning, I had determined to myself that I had to find a way to get home. Whether it was packing all 3 kids up and driving across country myself, or paying whatever it would cost to fly out, something. Yet, I knew Nate had so much to do to finish his PhD that he couldn’t take any time off work and we really couldn’t afford to buy a last minute ticket, and who would watch the girls? I just couldn’t see how I really could go. That night after the hospital had done a CT and mom called to let us know it was confirmed that dad had had a massive stroke that affected the portion of his brain over speech and mobility and cognition, I just cried and was overwhelmed. I thought of all the things my dad had taught me, all the great memories I had with him, how much I loved him and my mom, how hard it would be on my mom to lose her eternal companion for a time, or at least not have him be the same. I was sad for my children not being able to grow up knowing really what their grandpa Wardell was like. How he was “the man” and could fix everything and was always right. How he really loved people and doing everything that was active with his family. I thought of how my parents didn’t have health insurance and how my dad wouldn’t be able to go back to work, how they would have to sell their house and everything else, how my mom would have to work and work and it still wouldn’t be enough to cover the medical bills, how much their lives would change. I felt sorrow for the future memories with my dad lost. I hurt for my younger siblings. For Wade who was probably blaming himself as well as MC who was supposed to be hunting with them that weekend but couldn’t last minute due to a pulled hamstring. Mostly I hurt for dad and mom. Was dad in pain? Did he even know what had happened? Would he even recognize anyone? Was mom going to be able to deal with this? I knew I had to be strong for mom and dad and the rest of the family but I felt utterly weak and couldn’t possibly figure out in my mind how things could work out.

Then I talked to mom on the phone and she was the one counseling me. She was so grateful just to have dad there, grateful that she hadn’t lost him. She was grateful that she knew he could recognize her, that Wade was able to get dad home, grateful that Nate’s dad had come to the hospital. She was telling me she knew that everything would be ok, that she had already felt peace and seen that the Lord’s hand was over us. She had just been to the temple the day before and put her and dad’s name in the temple, which she usually doesn’t do. My mom was going to be ok. My mom had faith. She was the one comforting me.

The next day was Sunday, September 13, 2009. Dad’s birthday. I taught sharing time in Primary, and the theme “Book of Mormon prophets strengthen me and my family” held a little more weight in light of what had happened. They had hard things happen to them and stayed faithful and the Lord made their burdens light and delivered them. Mom called while we were at church and said Julaine Wells was willing to buy a plane ticket for me to come visit. She was arranging to get one to leave as soon as possible. People in our ward were amazing. They offered to help in any way. By the time I left church, I had a list of 15 or more names of people who had offered to watch the kids or bring meals or anything else. As I left church, I knew that I could take the plane ticket and go knowing that Nate and the girls would be well taken care of. Julaine booked tickets for me leaving that very day at 8pm, so I packed and Nate drove me to the airport, and Preston and I arrived at the Billings Clinic hospital to wish dad a happy birthday just before midnight.

hanging out in the hospital room...

The whole night and day and plane ride, I kept thinking about dad. How that first day must have been so scary and frustrating and painful for him. How he must be so confused and alone. I kept thinking that it just didn’t seem real, because it was too aweful to be real. I wondered if dad would even recognize me? Would he ever walk again? Talk again? Fish or hunt or hike or do anything he loved again? Would he be able to enjoy his family? His family was his life. Would he ever be the same? Would he even have the same personality, the same disposition?

Many of those questions were answered the moment I entered his room. He saw me and I knew he knew me. I hugged him and he made sounds that I knew meant he was glad to see me and wanted so much to talk. He showed me some movement that had started coming back to his right leg and arm. His same disposition and personality were there. I knew that he knew I loved him. That was enough. He even began to say ma ma ma sounds with Preston and tried to smile. He was skinny and tired, with the right side of his face sagging. He couldn’t move his hand or wrist at all, or his right arm much for that matter. But movement at all or being able to make any consonant sounds were a huge improvement from even that morning when the other kids first saw him. That was when I felt a sense of peace and knew that things would be ok, that this would bring our family even closer together.

dad with brother Bryan and wife Paula, and sister Michelle

There were still so many more difficult things to work through. Each day, one of the hardest things to watch was when the neurologist came in to assess where dad was at and dad couldn’t follow or even understand simple directions such as touch your nose or blink your eyes or turn your head. The doctor would hold up a common object such as a watch or glasses and ask dad “what is this?” and dad didn’t know. Over the first few days in the hospital, dad was able to start walking by himself and saying words. He had mom practice each night and morning with him how to say all the names of our family members. He received several priesthood blessings and had hundreds of visitors. So much so that the nurses were concerned it was too much for him because he wasn’t getting enough rest.

Dad was transferred to an inpatient rehabilitation center after several days where he was to receive speech, physical, and occupational therapy. By that time, dad was able to communicate strongly that he didn’t want to be there but wanted to go home. We convinced him to stay the first night because the real therapy would start the next day. That first day, I stayed with dad for several hours in the morning while MC and mom left to work on other things. That was one of the hardest days for me because I was alone with dad who wanted to go home, was getting depressed and there were several moments when he would just start crying out of frustration, even anger that he couldn’t go home. I tried to change the subject but couldn’t keep him from saying “NO, I go NOW!” “Go, go, go.”

After finding out more about the rehab program, knowing it’s cost, and seeing how far and fast dad was progressing physically, I knew after that first day that dad really would be better off at home. There mom could take care of him, and he could be comfortable, with his family, and still come in for the necessary therapy. Days ago, when we had made the decision to enroll dad in the New Hope program, we hadn’t known how much he would progress over the next few days and had decided at the time it was best for him.

Finally, after one more hard and long night, we were able to take dad home. This first thing he did was walk up the stairs to his bed and sleep. He was much happier and was willing to work on speech therapy with me twice a day as well as occupational therapy with MC twice a day. I tried to help mom organize finances, set up online banking, do a rough budget, and just make sure she knew what she was facing. It was hard, hard to be so involved in my parents finances, hard to share some hard truth with mom, hard to see my dad progressing but still wonder if he would ever work again and if he didn’t what would happen then.

People continued to come and visit, and my parents continued to invite and love the people that came. I knew dad needed rest and that talking was hard on him, but he wanted to greet people and be there when they came and see them out when they left. I sat in awe as I watched my parents make each and every person that entered their home feel like they were the most important people in the world. No wonder so many people love my parents, their home is always open and welcoming, and they really do love people. In that week and a half that I was home, I was able to see miracles both physically in the progress of my dad, as well and in the love and service that was rendered in behalf of my family. People in the ward brought meal after meal. Visitor after visitor sent cards, brought flowers, offered words of encouragement and prayer. Ward members offered to help pay for Stephanie’s mission, Dr. Townsend told mom he would pay her as if she were working until she came back to work. Optometrists from around Billings came in to cover dad’s patients for free. Even the people of my ward in Bloomington took turns watching the twins each day while Nate was at work. Many of them fed them dinner when he came to pick them up. Family from Utah and Idaho drove up to help mom and show support. People fasted and prayed and put dad’s name on the temple prayer roll. Finally, someone who worked at the temple called mom to see what had happened because they kept getting requests to add dad’s name.

I came home with such a sense of peace and knowledge that God is real, that His hand is in our lives, that miracles can and do happen and that I had witnessed and would continue to witness them. I knew things would work out. I knew this had and would continue to bring our family closer together and help us focus more on the most important things. I am so grateful for my parents and all they have taught me, all they have given me, and all they continue to do for me. As a parent, now I can begin to understand a little better the love and concern they have for me and each of their children. I know that much, if not all, of the happiness I have had in my life comes from parents who have been righteous in raising their family and teaching the saving principles and ordinances and virtues of the gospel of Jesus Christ. When those principles and values are lived, it brings peace and happiness into our lives no matter what happens, especially in times of need, trial, and hardship.

Now, about a little over a month later, my dad is home, walking 3 mi. a day, working on speech therapy each day with Ed (grandpa Nielsen) and doing just about anything physically that he could before his stroke. I just saw him hold a cup and a pen with his right hand (on the webcam), and supposedly he can write a few things. Heis able to open and close those fingers that he couldn't move for so long. He was talking in sentences and understands most of what anyone says. He drove a car for the first time today. He is full of life and energy and love. I am so grateful to still have him with us. I love you DAD!

picture taken in April at Stacey's wedding...