Deviating from the Norm

February 2nd, 2009

As I'm sure many of you are aware, the Randall family has had some upheaval over the past few days. I'm writing this from St. Mary's in Duluth, where I'm (thankfully) watching my dad doze in and out of sleep. When I tell people what happened, I have the urge to include every little detail, because, ultimately, if any one of those details had gone differently, my dad wouldn't be dozing in and out of sleep right now.

In 2000, my dad's youngest brother (there are four boys and one girl in his family) wound up in the hospital with an aortic dissection. It's an extremely serious condition where the layers of the aorta tear or peel away, causing blood to leak between the walls of the aorta and decreasing the strength of the vessel. If the vessel does burst, the patient will typically die within 3 minutes (you may remember that this is what killed Jon Ritter). In any case, it took 18 hours to finally diagnose Kevin's dissection, since the heart itself may operate fine even if the aorta is in distress, but he pulled through.

This type of condition is often hereditary - possible due to a connective tissue disorder. Steve and my dad both had aortic ultrasounds after Kevin's dissection, and that is when they both learned that they had aortic aneurysms - a weakening in a portion of the aorta. For the past eight years, my dad has had annual monitoring of his aneurysm to attempt to detect any changes. (Incidentally, Kristina and I have both been checked and have so far had no problems.) Blessing #1: My dad had a heads up regarding his potentially serious condition.

This brings us to 2009. Last Tuesday, Dad left with a bunch of his coworkers from the Sheriff's office to go up to Grand Marais. After two days of snowmobiling, they got up for yet another day. Blessing #2: One of the deputies decided to ask the group to stop by a snowmobile dealership before heading on the trail. If they hadn't stopped, they would have been at least 15 miles up the trail, on snowmobiles, with no cell service. The doctors have called him Dad's guardian angel.

I spoke to my dad around 9:15am (to deliver some political commentary to my commisserator), my mom spoke to him around 9:30am, and at 10am my mom got a call from another deputy to say that they had taken my dad by ambulance to the Grand Marais North Shore Hospital (a 19-bed facility 4 hours from GR). Blessing #3: My dad was with a bunch of sheriff deputies when he had the sharp pain in his chest that extended down his back. Dad has even said that he considered just going back to the hotel to rest (or that if he was at home he probably would've just layed down). Those wonderful men made my dad take that ambulance.

When he reached the hospital, they did a CT scan and promptly arranged for transfer to Duluth, since they wouldn't have the capacity to deal with heart problems if that was the issue. At this point, my dad was feeling fine. The pain had been scary, but brief. Blessing #4: Grand Marais had just sent someone by ambulance to Duluth. They had no more units and had to airlift my dad instead. During the flight, the CT results came back and indicated that my dad was indeed having a dissection.

When he landed, he still didn't know how serious things were, but apparently the medical professionals did as they rushed him into ICU. Mom and I got there just after he did, and they had already started prepping him for surgery. Blessing #5: Dr. Konda was going to be my dad's surgeon. Everything we have heard has been absolutely glowing.

We were able to see Dad for about an hour. Looking back, I should have known how serious things were by the number of people buzzing around him.



February 12th, 2009

Dad was in surgery for approximately 5 hours, which was on the short end of their estimate. He started the anesthesia process around 4pm, by 5pm they told us the surgery had started. We waited in the surgical waiting room, which was an interesting experience in and of itself. I remember other people being in the waiting area and wondering what process their loved one was going through. After each surgery, the surgeon would come into that room and meet with the family, Before that, you received an update on the black phone, which was manned by a volunteer until 6pm, after which waiting family members were responsible for answering the phone and locating the appropriate family.

There were a lot of people who came for my dad, and by the end of his surgery most of my dad's side of the family was there (in addition to wonderful people from my mom and dad's church, including their pastor). That was by far the most comforting thing for me as a daughter.

Around 10pm, the black phone rang and it was finally for us. They told us that my dad was off bypass and they would start closing. Those words, "off bypass" that hit me pretty hard.

It turns out they replaced a portion of my dad's aorta with a gore-tex material. Additionally, they fixed the corresponding valve, which had fallen into his heart. In the days after his surgery, he had doctors, anesthetists, even a professor from St. Scholastica stop by to talk to him, as they had heard his story. They all said that if anything had been different, Dad wouldn't have made it.

Dad was out of the hospital 6 days after his surgery. He's coming along well, albeit a bit too slowly for his taste. He's walking more and more each day, and he's had very, very little pain (managing it by tylenol during his hospital stay, after he found out he didn't like the way the narcotics made him feel). He'll start cardiac rehab soon.

I truly believe God was with my family that day. He was with Dad, guiding him through the process and getting him to the right place and the right time, and He was definitely with my mom. She was a complete rock during the crisis - I have never been more impressed with anyone. She held kept all of us together and as calm as we could've been expected to be.

Thanks to everyone for your prayers, for the phone calls, messages, gifts, cards and visits. Not only does my dad have a lot of wonderful, supportive friends and family, but so do I.

And here he is today: