The Darkest Days

I've never woken up thinking "my worst nightmare will come to fruition today". I'm not a worrier by nature, nor do I have a "doomsday, end-of-the-world" mentality. So, it began as a normal day. Sunshine. Breakfast. Coffee. A call to my mom. She said she was on the way to Tomball Regional Hospital because dad had an insulin reaction at work. Dad had many insulin reactions over the years- unfortunately, with Type I diabetes, this is a common occurrence. Some were mild, some were severe.. but any time he had one at a church function or at work while he was teaching at Tomball College, someone would call an ambulance. Then dad would come around, frustrated and embarrassed to be the center of every ones worry and concern. When mom told me she was heading to the hospital, she didn't sound alarmed. I told her to call me when they got home. About an hour later, I got a text from my mom. "Dad is in ER and admitted to CCU. Doing a CAT scan." I responded immediately, "What is CCU and why are they doing a CAT scan?!"

I couldn't wait for an answer so I called her. She told me when she got to the hospital there were about ten of his students in the waiting area and they said something about "Dr. Jensen is breathing now". Mom thought, "of course he's breathing".. She soon learned that when the paramedics arrived to his office, he didn't have a pulse and he hadn't been breathing. They weren't even able to resuscitate him until they got to the hospital.. She told me to pray. She told me that our Pastors were there. I knew at that point in time how serious it was. Mom never would have called the church if she thought dad would be ok.

I prayed and paced and paced and prayed for what seemed like hours. I finally grew impatient and called my mom again.  The doctors ascertained dad had gone over 45 minutes without oxygen getting to his brain. It didn't "look good" and he might not "make it". If he did wake up again, it was likely that the brain damage would be so severe that he wouldn't be able to function. I asked Jonathan to call his dad and ask for him to fly me home. A lady from church worked on getting Jonathan a ticket as well. My flight left Denver at 2:40pm for Houston... it wasn't a long flight but it seemed like years.

Izzy wasn't even one yet- when we got to the hospital, I don't remember who took her.. all I remember is the look on my moms face. She asked if I was ready to see my dad. I don't remember what I said. I just remember nodding. Trying to make sense of everything in my mind. We walked through the double doors of the CCU. Everything was stark white and smelled like bleach and antibacterial spray. When we got to the door of my dads room, it was all I could do to not break down.

As a little girl, I rode on my daddy's shoulders. He taught me the difference between a philips head and a flat head screwdriver. He explained long division so it made sense: he said it was doing pushups with your brain. (I dislike any kind of pushup to this day). I don't remember ever asking him a question that he didn't know the answer to; he was the most intelligent, well educated person I know. When you are little, your parents often seem invincible; like nothing could phase them or deter them. My dad was no wimp- he was six-foot-two, eyes of blue. He prided himself on doing 50 pushups every morning. Apart from his diabetes, he was healthy as a horse! He walked his talk- leading the Whole Hearted Health Ministry at Believers Fellowship, he was careful to eat well, exercise well, and live a devoted, Christ-centered life.

Now, here is was, my strong, handsome father, laying pale and unmoving on a hospital bent with a mask over his face, and tubes and wires everywhere. I touched his hand- it was cold. Daddy's hands were never cold. Mom went back to the waiting room and I sat there, by my dads side, talking to him. Telling him how much I loved him and how much I appreciated what a wonderful father he was. I tearfully asked him to "try harder" and "open your eyes". The monotonous drone of the oxygen machine and the incessant beeping of the blood pressure monitor were drowned out by my own pounding heart.

The next few days were a blur; I only remember bits and pieces. But I remember my mom in tears because the nurse had given her my dads wedding ring. On September 22nd, at 9:25pm, they took him off life support and my wonderful, precious father went to be with Jesus, leaving behind a loving wife, two sons, and me.