Daddy on Christmas Day 2010
Sunday is Father’s Day, and I thank God each year that I can celebrate it with my Daddy, because a little over 36 years ago, I almost lost him.
In November 1974, my Daddy suffered a major heart attack at the age of 39. I was only 14, and I can remember how frightened I was when the ambulance came that night. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a night so black.
The doctors told Mother had Daddy not actually been at the hospital and sedated when the actual heart attack happened, he would not have lived. It did major damage to his heart muscle.
Since then, we have had a number of major incidents with his heart that could have taken him from us, but God had other plans for him. Each time, we gave thanks for the advances in cardiac medicine.
In 1976, Daddy had his first bypass surgery where three arteries were replaced. Then in 1987, he underwent his second bypass, but this time they replaced five arteries, one of which went to the damaged area of the heart, but that one quickly closed.
Then in the spring of 1993, Daddy had a tachycardia attack (which means his heart beat became dangerously fast) while at cardiac rehab, and they had to shock him with a defibrillator to get it back into rhythm in the ER just across a breezeway from the rehab center.
This event began what has become an 18-year relationship with Vanderbilt Medical Center, which is where Daddy’s cardiologist in Chattanooga sent him for treatment for the tachycardia.
In 2006, we came close to losing him when he had a second pacemaker inserted and developed a staph infection. Fortunately, the doctors at Vanderbilt were able to treat it before it traveled to the lead line into the heart.
Today, he has three pacemakers and is in the early, advanced stages of congestive heart failure. His heart and kidneys both function at approximately 35 percent, but he’s still with us telling stories from his youth, offering wisdom and practical advise, and occasionally, driving us crazy with his crankiness.
But we wouldn’t trade those days for anything.
I realize that many little girls and grown women will say they have a special relationship with their daddy, but I truly do. You see, Daddy was the primary one who changed my diapers, feed me, bathed me and put me to sleep when I was only days and weeks old.
Mother had complications from my birth, which put her back in the hospital just three days after I was born for two weeks, and then again for another two weeks about eight weeks later for reconstructive surgery.
They were alone in El Paso, Texas, where Daddy was stationed in the Army at Fort Hood. Thankfully, at least in those days, soldiers were required to take classes about the proper care of infants, so Daddy at least had some idea of what to do when he was left alone to care for me.
A close friend and neighbor would care for me during the day while he was at work (this was long before the days of the American Family Leave Act), and he would take over at night.
Because of this, I bonded with my Daddy, and that bond has continued throughout our lives. As I’ve aged, Mother and I have become truly close, but when I was in my formative years, I was closer to Daddy than her. I looked more to him for advice than her, and my approach to life was influenced more by Daddy than her.
He taught me that I could do anything – even though I was a girl. He instilled in me a love of reading and words, of sports, of the outdoors. He taught me that it was more important in life to be respected than liked – advice that has proven extremely valuable in the field I chose as a profession.
And Daddy was the one who showed me that it was OK to question one’s faith, become angry at times with God and, yet, still know that He is in charge and that He never leaves us.
Mother’s faith in God has been rock solid throughout my life. If it has ever waivered, I’ve never known it. Daddy, on the other hand, never lost his faith, but he had his moments when he wanted to go his own way on his own timetable, not God’s, and when he was truly angry with Him.
Those were not pretty times in Daddy’s life or ours as a family, but I learned from them. I learned that God never leaves us, but instead patiently waits for us to return to His loving arms. I learned that sometimes, God has to literally put us flat on our backs to get our attention, as He did with Daddy and his heart attack.
Daddy has shared many times the literal and very real conversation he had with God while laying on the gurney in the hospital the night of his heart attack, when God’s voice audibly said to him, “You have a choice. I can bring you home to me now or you can stay, but you must follow my will for your life, not your own.”
Fortunately, for me, Daddy chose to stay, and I can honestly say, has lived his life trying to follow God’s will ever since.
So, today, I want to publicly thank God for giving Daddy a choice and to thank Daddy for making the choice he did, as well as for all the lessons you both have taught me through the years.
Happy Father’s Day, Daddy, from your one and only. I love you, and I’ll see you this weekend.
Managing Editor Amelia Morrison Hipps may be reached at 444-3952, ext. 13, or via email at ameliahipps@lebanondemocrat.com.
Tags: Amelia Morrison Hipps, Army, Daddy, faith, Fort Hood, God, heart attack, Lebanon Democrat, Lebanon Tennessee, parents, Vanderbilt Medical Center
Well said! I lost my dad when he was 39. Two cars can’t fit into the same space especially at speed. I still miss him a lot. You have had a chance to share with your dad much more than I did. Have a great fathers day with your daddy!