On September 24, 2024 my father went in for a routine surgery. He had many major surgeries before this so we really didn't get too concerned. The actual surgery was without complications but his recovery was anything but normal and we almost lost him.
After being discharged the day after surgery he went home and his food wasn't processing right. We talked to the surgeon and they said to bring him back to the Baptist Hospital in Winston-Salem to get checked out. They admitted him — but this happened to be the same night Hurricane Helene came through Asheville.
For the next few days the hospital mainly monitored but he did not eat and things weren't right. He went back into surgery on Tuesday, which was one week later. They continued to monitor him but they were unable to give him as much IV fluids as they normally would. This had a major impact on his kidneys — but we didn't know it yet.
On Friday, even though he really hadn't improved much, a resident spoke to me in the hall. He said that they believe he should recover at home. For "elderly" men — Dad turned 72 last year — it was important that he return home so his confusion wouldn't get worse. This hit me like a ton of bricks. My Dad is not an elderly man. He is a vibrant, energetic man that has many years left with me. At least I thought.
The next few days would prove to bring him to his most fragile state. Hurricane Helene made it necessary for the hospital to ration IVs. Dad didn't get the same amount as he normally would and his labs concerning kidney function continued to go down. He was a hard "stick" and they neglected to get a lab one day — and the next day it was critically low. He had renal failure, and the only question was whether it would be short or long term.
I worked in dialysis, and to think that my Dad had gone from a healthy, energetic man to a fragile, confused potential dialysis patient in just over a week — that rocked me.
It was at this time I thought about my legacy, coupled with his and my mother's. I thought about how sometimes we lose our loved ones who still have dreams — but those go unfulfilled due to tragedy. It became my passion to carry on the legacy of not only my mother and father, but also my Paw Paw Millard Spence, a man I never got to meet named "Red" Linkous who played bluegrass, and my father-in-law Ralph Jones who loved to fish — all of whom have left us way too soon.
This is called Unfinished Dreams. Whether it is just my personal passion or something bigger, I do not yet know.
Love you, Dad.