Members Jersey Posted August 3, 2012 Members Report Share Posted August 3, 2012 Hello all.. This is my first time here, and first time posting anywhere about this besides a PTSD forum I joined today. Things have started to get bad, and I really need a friend who understands.I'm a 27 year old female who lost my father in 2007, on his 54th birthday.My dad was sick pretty much my entire life, and I spent my time growing up helping my mother care for him instead of having the normal childhood I should have. Dad was a severe diabetic (Native American), and had multiple amputations, surgeries, and illnesses. In 2007, he had his second leg amputated and we almost lost him in June of that year. It was a miracle that we still had him. He made it through surgery and was in rehab, and was honestly the happiest I had ever seen him, ever. He was excited about coming home, about being stable on two prosthetic legs instead of one real and one fake, he wanted to be the man he wasn't able to be. I had never seen him so happy, so bright.The "nurses" and "doctors" at the rehabilitation hospital where he had been previously learning how to walk the first time he had an amputation allowed him to obtain an infection in his left arm, middle finger to be exact. He was a diabetic, and infections are deadly.They didn't treat it, even with poking, prodding, and pressure from my mother and I. We saw him slipping away, getting weak, incoherent, not eating. This wasn't dad. Finally they sent him to the ER to have a pic-line put in for antibiotics. The ER doctor pulled my mother and I aside and asked if he had ever had hand surgery and we said no. He asked because the infection had eaten away the entire bone in his middle finger. This doesn't happen over night.They sent him to an isolation room to begin treating what was now gangrene, we kissed him goodbye and I promised him I'd bring a fan the next day because it was so hot in that room. The next day never came.2am that night we got the phonecall from the hospital; there had been an incident and we needed to come down. I knew something was bad. Apparently he had gone into cardiac arrest due to the septic shock, and he was without oxygen for 13 minutes (he didn't have a DNR, and the brain starts to die at 3 minutes hypoxia). He was shipped up to ICU, now on life support, having violent seizures as his brain swelled and his eyes bulged out, all while dealing with his gangrenous finger, which had spread to his forearm at this point.His seizures were so bad he bit through two ventilator tubes, and we had to have a bite block put in so it wouldn't happen again. My mother and I spent 6 agonizing days watching him in ICU, hoping for the best, praying for a miracle, speaking to doctors and trying to make the best choice. At around 6pm on August 8th 2007, they loaded him up with morphine and pulled the life support system. We gathered around him; I held his hand tight. He gasped, moaned, and strained for air for nearly two hours before he turned blue and took his last breath. I had to tell him it was okay to go.This was 5 years ago -- I am still a wreck. I have severe PTSD, anger, grief, and other issues from this. I miss my dad. I miss my family. I miss the life I had when I used to smile and knew it would be alright. I have nothing but stress and health problems now, I can't do anything without breaking down.To complicate matters, I'm a college student and in the funeral industry -- every corpse I see is my dad, in my mind's eye. I just can't do this anymore. If there's anyone out there who can relate or help, please do. I really need a friend.. thanks.. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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