Today my dad was due to have a triple heart bypass. A routine surgery as so many have told me but can you imagine how it feels? Picture your dad, there for you whilst you were growing up, giving advice, helping out and being a tower of strength when nobody but your dad will do. Now imagine him being cut open, his ribs being broken, his heart being stopped whilst a machine works for him, various wires running through his body whilst he lays unconscious on a surgeons table. Not so easy is it?
That is how me, my sisters and my mum have all felt ever since we were told in February that the surgery was required. Anxious, worried, upset and waiting for what seemed like an eternity to get it over and done with. Today, three hours before his surgery was due and having spent the night in hospital, my dad was told his surgery has been cancelled due to not enough beds in intensive care.
So now, after getting ourselves geared up and emotionally prepared for him to undergo his surgery and then for us to see him in hospital afterwards, we will have to go through it all again in who-knows how long.
It’s a frustrating and maddening situation, yet who do you blame? It’s not the staffs’ fault there aren’t any beds, nor is it the surgeon’s, or even the hospital’s. But the ever-growing feeling of anger when I think about the situation makes me want an outlet for my frustration, someone to scream at for putting us all through this.
So in a no-doubt terrible mood, my dad is currently sat in his hospital bed awaiting my mum to pick him up and bring him home where we will all gather to offer our support, although I’m sure there will be little we can say or do to ease his frustration or the stress all this must be causing him. And in a few days or weeks we will all once more gather ourselves for his surgery again, and hope this time there is a bed waiting for him.