During my spring break sophomore year, my brother and I traveled to Wake Forest Hospital in North Carolina. My dad was diagnosed with stage 2 throat cancer. And there had been complications and they cut an artery causing my dad to bleed out and the doctors had to perform an emergency tracheotomy procedure. When the artery was cut he almost passed away. I was in Nebraska at the time, so I didn’t know what was going on, and since the tumor was in his throat he couldn’t talk to me. He was supposed to be able to talk to me at 10 am, and he didn’t have contact with me till 8 later that night. I got the call from my step mom saying that there was complications and she didn’t know what, but my dad was in the Intensive Care Unit. I just had to go to North Carolina, so I did. As I got there I could smell the old blood and fermenting mucus. The room had blue walls and white floors with little speckles on them. My dad was crippled in his bed from the pain of the trachea tube; it irritated his throat causing him to cough his lungs up. His whole body cringed every time he hacked, blood shooting out from his mouth and his trachea tube. The tube was a little maroon rubber piece with a cap on the end; there was a band around his neck, which held the cotton swab. It was the worst thing to hear him say, “Every time I eat or drink, I choke myself and have to call the nurse to help," broke my heart. Sitting in the chair watching my dad cry, not being able to defend him self, sit up, eat, anything.
My dad’s favorite thing to do is cook, and he can’t even taste anything now. It’s so hard to sit and listen to him cry, saying he can’t talk right, or eat foods fast. If he takes a breath to fast he gets winded, drinking certain alcohol causes his throat to swell up. No one really understands what its like to have someone so close to you hurt and suffer and all you can do is sit there, saying “I love you.” I couldn’t do anything for him, in the hospital. I slept on the horrible hospital couch my whole spring break. My heart breaking every time he would cough. The first time I saw him laying in the hospital bed, with the color drained from his face, his body bruised and swollen. He had two large cuts on the side of his neck. Starting from the trachea tube all the way up to about his ear, on both sides. He still has the scars, but when I walked in the door that first day in North Carolina he smiled, it was the only time I ever saw him smile. He had previously told me “Its okay Sarah, I’m going to beat this,” all these little things make the situation just a little better. Knowing God didn’t want him to go when the doctors cut the artery, or when his throat closed up, or every time he chokes on his food. It was just a bump in the road and my dad was fighting for his life, fighting to stay alive.