Coming up on day two...we had originally first seen Dad on the ventilator just after 7pm that evening of June 27th, so 7pm was a significant time of day from then on...it signified another full 24 hours....and I figured I might was well do another drawing to show that Dad had negotiated another full day on the vent...every 1900 hours from that point on was my goal for another day there with Dad...
That second day, they pulled back some on Dad's sedation to check his mental status, and we were able to make eye contact and got recognition....Dad looked really unhappy, uncomfortable, and barely able to tolerate it, but it was great to see that he was still there with us. Mom innocently asked, "Are you okay?", to which Dad nearly managed to roll his eyes as if to say, "Yvonne, do I look okay?" So far as I could tell, Dad was able to hear every word we said to him and there was no telling at what point--if ever--that he failed to hear us. So from then on, I was determined to speak to always speak to Dad as though he was awake and present with us, and remind him of encouraging words like, "We'll have you out of here soon Dad,"...."Your Pulse Oxygenation is looking better Pops, keep up the good work", and "You've been in worse scrapes than this..." I was to continue this upbeat tone for the duration of Dad's time on the vent...and for most of the time, I still managed to believe that Dad was somehow going to walk on out of there just like he did back at St. John's 20 years prior.
Once Dad had completed his first 24 hours on the vent, his hands and arms began to swell up with fluid. Shortly after the evening ICU nurse took over she let me know that they probably were going to have to cut off Dad's college ring, in order to keep his finger from losing circulation, and being damaged or eventually amputated. By that time, his finger had swelled up so much that it didn't appear that there was going to be any way we could slide it off his finger, but I urged the nurse to avoid cutting it if at all possible. You see, that ring had special meaning to my father.
Dad was the first member of his family to attend college. Indeed, his father, my namesake Walter Ray Goodman I, on his deathbed when Dad was a teenager, had among his last words told dad "Go to college." Well, Dad managed to work hard in school and was awarded an appointment to the first class of the United States Air Force Academy in Colorado Springs. Dreaming of becoming a pilot for many years, he was devastated to learn during his medical exam as one of the final stages in his appointment process that his vision was not 20/20...and in one fell swoop lost his Air Force Academy scholarship, his assurance of obtaining a job and military commission, and his dream of becoming a pilot. No waivers existed for that first class--you had to be perfect. I believe in retrospect that my father has proven to be way better than 'perfect,' but unfortunately the Air Force Academy missed out on the honor of having him.
After taking a year to regroup and attend some classes at Joplin Junior College (now MSSU), some of his buddies that had gone to the University of MO-Columbia found Dad while back in Joplin on break. They essentially kidnapped Dad and brought him up to Columbia, where he got hooked. He enrolled the next semester, and joined the Naval ROTC unit there, setting his sights on a commission as an officer in the United States Navy.
His father had lied about his age and left a long line of Methodist "circuit rider" ministers to join the Navy in World War I, returned to the Navy in World War II, serving with pride both times as a Machinists Mate, and attempted to re-enlist during the Korean Conflict, but was turned away for being too old. Dad didn't have the benefit of a scholarship. Though pops was a gifted Baritone singer, and was offered a full-ride vocal music scholarship, Dad 'stayed the course', and worked his way through college at MIZZOU in Political Science, a degree by which he could be commissioned as a naval officer, and continue our family heritage of naval service. He got a small scholarship singing a solo for Handel's "Messiah" at the Missouri United Methodist Church, but essentially worked multiple simultaneous jobs to earn his entire tuition for college...no small feat at that time. It meant that he had virtually no money, no time to sleep, nor even study, but he pulled it off with just over a hard-fought 'C' average. Dad wore that ring with pride from that time on, with probably twice the pride of any Annapolis graduate after all of their service academy travails. Dad's fraternity, Pi Kappa Alpha, was engraved on the face of the gemstone, and reminded him of what were probably the only fun times he had at MIZZOU with what few breaks he had among his fellow brother "Pikes." I knew this was no ordinary ring to Dad, and he would truly hate to see it cut off.
To add even more to its value, in recent years Dad had given the ring, his most prized possession, to Mom as a token of his love. Mom's wedding band had been lost years ago, and Mom had worn the ring on a gold chain around her neck for awhile. Well, at some point Mom misplaced the ring, which undoubtedly disappointed Dad, but...what do you do, right?
One of the struggles I had in the days after the tornado was keeping Mom out of the house. She seemed to keep going in to gather the things that were the most valuable to her that she acquired during 30+ years as a Nurse, and while traveling the world as a stewardess for Pan Am. She had a tendency to fall down, trip on debris and disheveled items in the house, and was obviously very sensitive to heat and highly emotional about losing so many of her possessions. Every time I turned my back on her, it seemed like she had run back into the house, and was trying her best to get hurt, overheated, and any of a variety of other dangers. It was exasperating!
What I didn't know was that Mom believed that she had an idea where Dad's ring was, and went back in to look for it every chance she got ...determined to find it. I don't know how she did it, dodging my protective attempts to keep her out, pushing aside and barking at restoration contractors that were boxing up and throwing away items and debris, and digging through the rubble, but she found it!!!!!! And when she handed it to Dad, his face lit up like it was the best birthday surprise of his life!!! He couldn't believe it! For my part, it said a lot to me about Mom's love for my father, as I found out that so much of the fussing Mom had done about trying to get back into the house was not for her own possessions, but for Dad's ring.
The ICU nurse took pity, and we determined we were going to safely get that ring off!! She pulled every top secret Nurse trick out of the book....elevated Dad's arm up, wrapped tape tightly around his finger beyond the ring, and found the most slippery soap devised by man...and after several agonizing attempts.... VOILA! The ring came right off unharmed!
In honor of this small victory for Dad, I made the Dad's second drawing depicting him as the Green Lantern...with the ring emblazoned with a "Pi Kappa Alpha" engraving just like his own....and embued with obvious magical superpowers, like I have no doubt the ring had for Dad as a reminder of what he accomplished graduating from MIZZOU.
From that night on, I kept the ring in my custody, and wore it in my pocket, with the gold chain tied securely to my belt. I am a MIZZOU grad, but I didn't earn my diploma the way Dad did, it was his to wear, so I didn't have the nerve to wear it on my finger. But I kept it with me at all times, so I could have it there ready for him when he woke up....and have a part of him with me constantly, even in the moments that I had to step outside of the ICU room due to policy, etc.
As far as the drawing was concerned, the sharpee/highlighter process seemed to work as well as any, and I discovered that by mixing some blues and yellows, I scored a decent "green"---to me, a major break-through and technological achievement for highlighter illustration. I also got a few other sharpees, a few more highlighters, and some 'bristol board' paper during a quick trip for supplies with Mom....this way if I wouldn't have to keep mooching off of the nurses station supplies (because from experience working as an EMT myself, there never seems to be enough stuff like that there when you need it)...
Dad's service photo as a newly commissioned Ensign, in the United States Navy, after working his way through college at MIZZOU. (disregard the strange blob under his left eye).
Dad's College Ring
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