Sunday May, 2nd 2021 was the
last time I saw my dad, Esvin, in the way I would like to remember him, happy and healthy. My dad, my sister, and I spent the afternoon with my nephew. We went out for dinner, had ice cream, and took him to the park before dropping him off. It was a typical family day for us and something we did often when we had the time. The next day marked the start of “dead” week for me. This is what college students call the week before finals. I was set to graduate that year and although it’s a big milestone, I had already decided to continue my education so for me it felt like any other finals week. I would typically head back to my apartment in Norman every Monday morning before my afternoon class. It was a routine for me to stop by my dad’s house and say goodbye before I left for the week. I remember stopping by the house that morning to find my dad’s truck missing from the driveway. I called him and he let me know he was out making a delivery for work. He told me he loved me and that he would see me when I came the next week. I made my way down to campus like normal. Thinking back to it now, nothing could have prepared me for what was to come.
I had no idea at the time but my dad started to experience a really bad headache while he was at the gym that Monday night. He spent the whole night throwing up and could not sleep because of this severely painful headache. By Tuesday morning he had called my mom and sister and asked to be taken to the hospital. I still remember the phone call from my mom that morning. She sounded very concerned and told me I needed to come down to OKC as soon as I could. I could tell she was trying to remain calm so as to not scare me but something in me felt off. I remember googling my dad’s symptoms and seeing “brain aneurysm” and “migraine” as the top culprits. I had no idea what a brain aneurysm even was and quickly brushed it off. I was trying to convince myself that what my dad was experiencing was a migraine and that he would be fine. Unfortunately, a CT scan revealed that my dad was in fact experiencing the effects of a ruptured brain aneurysm and they spotted a second one that hadn’t ruptured. They quickly made the decision to perform a surgery that would involve coiling them to prevent further rupture. My dad was fully conscious and agreed to the surgery. He was told the risks and what recovery would look like. It all happened so fast and before we knew it he was taken back. Sadly, it did not go as well as the doctors had planned. They were able to coil one aneurysm but the other bled during surgery causing more damage and swelling to my dad’s brain. My mom was in full crisis management mode. She was making phone calls to all my dad’s family members, interpreting everything the doctors and nurses were saying, and trying to make sure my siblings and I were okay. My parents had been divorced for years but had a civil relationship for the sake of their children. I don’t know what I would have done without her stepping up to handle everything.
I remember going to see my dad after surgery that Tuesday evening with my older brother and mom. My mom had let us know that although my dad was still breathing, he was not in an alert state. I was scared to walk into the room. My dad didn’t look like my dad anymore. He was intubated, full of wires, and connected to a ton of machines measuring his vitals. I stood there in shock. It didn’t feel real. My mom sent us back home to rest and said she would stay the night to make sure my dad wasn’t alone. By that time, my whole family had also gathered at the hospital to visit my dad. I remember not being able to sleep that whole night. My sister and I decided to head to the hospital around 6am the next morning. We were trying to be positive and hopeful for my dad’s recovery. It was hard for us to be in the room with my dad. I didn’t want to see him that way. That morning the doctors had told my mom that my dad’s chance for recovery was slim. They had detected minimal brain activity and couldn’t do anything besides keep him comfortable. It hurts me that my mom then had to find a way to tell everyone this. She had me and my sister go into the room with my dad to have a moment with him. Then she grabbed our hands and looked at us with a look I will never forget. She didn’t want to tell us but she had to. My sister immediately knew what she was going to say and broke down in a way I never want to witness again. She was hysterical and in denial. A young girl who didn’t want to hear that she was going to lose her dad. I remember being in complete disbelief.
My mom and I tried our best to calm my sister down. The following days were a blur. We had countless family members coming up to the hospital to see my dad and pray for him. It was overwhelming but also beautiful to see the amount of people who genuinely cared about him. My siblings and I were a mess to say the least. We could barely eat or sleep. Then, Friday May 7th 2021 came. The doctors had told us that we needed to make a decision on whether to keep my dad on life support. It was a difficult conversation and a decision nobody wanted to make. It wasn’t something my dad ever talked about and I didn’t know what he would have wanted. Before we could even come to some sort of decision, the doctors informed us that my dad’s vitals were continuing to decline despite their efforts. At that moment I felt as though my dad was making his own decision. Several family members remained at my dad’s side praying for a miracle. My sister could no longer emotionally handle being at the hospital so my mom had her go home and sent me with her. I was still in a state of shock and basically did whatever was asked of me. My dad passed that evening surrounded by family. He was only 42 years old. It’s still unbelievable that this all happened in the span of 4 days.
The first year my dad passed was the hardest year of my life. In the beginning I felt emotionally numb. It was like my brain couldn’t process everything going on. The emotional shock wore off and turned into constant anxiety. I was always thinking of the worst case scenario or the next bad thing just waiting to happen. It was extremely draining and took a toll on me physically. My brothers and sister had their own journeys through grief and navigated it in different ways. It broke my heart to watch them struggle. Thankfully we had so much love and support from people around us to help get us through. It took about 2 years for me to feel “normal” again but it still hurts to think about the moments I’ll never get with my dad. I won’t get to see him with a full head of grey hair. He won’t get to walk me or my sister down the aisle one day. My future children will only get to hear stories and see pictures.
Above all though, it’s the little moments I miss the most. I miss his hugs. I miss the way he showed us unconditional love. I miss the way he made me feel like I was perfect just the way I was. My dad was strong, hardworking, and always happy. He was the best dad and we were so lucky to have him. My sister and I have been talking about wanting to get into advocacy for brain aneurysms for a while now. I started to research different foundations as well as try to gain a better understanding of the signs and symptoms. My dad had experienced pretty frequent headaches a year prior to his rupture. He had gone to different family clinics but never got any answers. The pain eventually subsided and he continued on with life. I now know from my research that those headaches could have been symptoms of an unruptured brain aneurysm. My goal is to educate others on the importance of brain health and paying attention to your body
