Morgan Trinker

Well, as you have probably noticed, I’ve been pretty absent from this blog for awhile. I know some of you have been following along with what’s been going on via Facebook, but while this is all still fresh on my mind, I really wanted to share what’s been going on in my life the past couple of weeks.

The phone call Jamie and I received last Thursday evening was one of those that completely changes your life. My brother was on the phone, telling Jamie that my dad had had a stroke and was being rushed to the ER. A million things started racing through my mind, like “How is this possible? He’s only 48! He’s in great health!”…. And then the what if’s began to sink in. What if this has done permanent damage to his body and he’s paralyzed? What if there is something horrible that caused this, like a tumor? And the worst…. What if he dies? Now there’s a question I had never really stopped to think about. I mean, of course there’s always the possibility that your parent or someone else you love dearly will die, but that’s not really the kind of thought I like to linger on. This was the first time that I REALLY stopped and imagined what life without my dad would be like. And to put it mildly…. I was terrified. I began to sob uncontrollably, so fortunately Jamie was able to keep it together for the both of us long enough to book the soonest flight out of Salt Lake City. Then I remembered that I was supposed to be shooting an engagement session in less than an hour, so I quickly tried to regain my composure long enough to call Jenna and explain to her what had happened so that we could reschedule. Thankfully, she was more than understanding, and she reassured me that it was completely fine. Then I thought, oh geez, what about our dog? It was too late to take her to doggie daycare, where she normally stays when we leave town. So I called our incredible friends Mike and Sam, and they insisted that it would not be a problem at all for them to come pick her up and have her stay at their house and play with their dog Penny and their kids. Then I had to call Starbucks and ask if they could get my shifts covered for the next few days, and again, thankfully, they were super understanding and took care of everything for me. So with all that done, Jamie and I threw a bunch of random stuff in a carryon and raced off to the airport.

From that point through the next 24 hours or so, everything is a complete blur. I vaguely remember walking through the airport in a complete fog, unable to really comprehend what was happening. It seemed like a nightmare I would wake up from any minute. I mean, I’ve been really blessed throughout my life, because I’ve never had anyone close to me die. Not an uncle, not a grandparent, not a friend… No one. And aside from Jamie’s stint in the ICU a couple of years ago for his heart issues, I’ve also never had to be in the hospital for a length of time, just waiting and waiting and waiting for progress reports, or for a doctor to walk out and give you the worst news you’ve ever heard. So the fear of the unknown in this situation was horrible and unlike anything else I’ve ever felt, to say the least. And to be stuck halfway across the country while my dad was in an emergency room in Tennessee? That was the worst. That’s something we never considered when we moved a 28-hour-drive away from home… What would we do in case of emergency? I mean, we did all we really COULD do. We spent the whole night flying, from Salt Lake to LA to Cincinatti to Knoxville, hardly sleeping a wink, and arrived the next morning around 10:30. When I looked in the mirror at the airport, I knew exactly why they call it a red-eye flight. We were a MESS. But my brother Seth and his girlfriend Joy were there to drive us to the hospital, and despite being completely exhausted and delirious, we rushed as fast as we could to Park West hospital. Luckily, we got there with about 6 minutes to spare in a small time frame we had for visitation, and the hospital employees got us back to his room in the critical care unit as soon as they could.

I had formed an idea of what it would be like to see my dad for the first time. Seth had warned us that the entire right side of his body was paralyzed and that he really had no speech function, but NOTHING could have prepared me for what I saw and felt when I walked in that room. I just totally lost it.

You see, I have always been a daddy’s girl. Please don’t take that to mean that I’m a spoiled little princess. My personality is about as far from that as it gets. It’s just that my dad and I are almost exactly alike in every way- creative, a little stubborn (sometimes more than a little!), determined, prone to hermit-like behavior, opinionated, extremely emotional- and though that means we’ve butted heads many times throughout my life, we’ve also bonded in a way that I think only a father and daughter can. I have always had a deep respect for him, and for the wisdom and love he has used to raise me to be the girl I am today. He is an amazing man and an incredible leader, so to see him in such a position of vulnerability and helplessness was just…. gut-wrenching. That first visit, we just cried and cried and cried. But I was so thankful to be there with him.

When we got back out to the waiting room, I realized how blessed my family is. My mom’s parents and her sister had driven from Nashville late Thursday night and spent the night in the waiting room with mom and Seth and Joy. She had also had members of our church family there throughout the night, and then early that morning. Even though no one could go back to see Dad, there was a constant stream of people coming in and out of that room for the next 48 hours. It made me think, what do people do without church communities? I mean, in times of crisis, they really come together like nothing I’ve witnessed. Y’all would not believe how much food everyone brought. And oh, the stories they told about Dad. About how when they had gone through a tragedy of some sort, Dad had been right there beside them, praying with them and comforting them. About what an impact he has had on their lives. Not to mention everyone who sent us so much love and encouragement through Facebook! Oh my goodness, I was completely floored by the amount of kindness and sympathy shown to us through comments, messages, emails…. everything. It meant more to me than you will ever know.

Nevertheless, it was still difficult to see Dad. He has been so frustrated by his inability to communicate… especially for someone who has always been so gifted at communication. He’s never been at a loss for words, and now, it’s a struggle to find them. I felt completely helpless. We tried to reassure him, encourage him, even entertain him. But we could tell it was exhausting for him. He would open his mouth to respond, think about what he wanted to say, and all he could end up saying was “yeah.” But at the same time, he was definitely making progress. The doctors had run all the tests and could not determine a cause, so they cleared him to be moved to a regular room by Sunday, which was really great news. And we did have a bit of a breakthrough. On Saturday afternoon, during one of our visits, my mom and I asked Dad if he wanted to try to write on a clipboard, and he emphatically said yes and nodded. Since the right side of his body was still paralyzed, he had to write with his left hand (not his good hand). And on top of that, what he was writing was mostly nonsense. However, as he kept writing, I could tell he was trying to spell my name, because he got most of it right. After that though, we couldn’t decipher what the rest of it said. So we left the room, and mom and I just broke down in the hallway. We were trying to stay really upbeat and positive to help Dad out, but I think it all was just so overwhelming that we couldn’t hold it in. After drying our tears and going back out into the waiting room, we passed around the sheet of paper Dad had written on for everyone to look at. It was my grandmother (Nan) who at last said that she thought she had figured out what he was trying to say. And sure enough, when we gathered around to see, she pointed out how he had grouped the letters into separate words, but he had just confused some of the letters. What he had been trying to write was “Morgan I love you.” And he had even scribbled a heart at the end of it. Well, of course, then I really lost it.

Speaking of my mom, it has to be said that I have never loved or admired her more than I have these past couple of weeks. She’s always been strong, the backbone of our family, really. But I can say with all certainty that she is truly a steel magnolia. If any of you have seen the movie, and remember Sally Field’s character…. well, that’s my mom. In every way. Despite all of the chaos, she was always able to keep it together for all of the family and visitors. When I began to melt down, she would be the one to dry my tears and tell me we needed to stay strong for everyone else. She never left my dad’s side, sleeping in the waiting room and then in his hospital room once he was transferred. And even though I knew how much she was suffering on the inside, she was ever the perfect hostess to everyone who came. She still managed to worry about whether or not our house was clean and the laundry was getting done in between visits. It was crazy. I just love her so much.

At this stage, Dad is still progressing well. He was recently moved from the hospital to the rehab center, where he will probably be an inpatient for the next few weeks, and then an outpatient for up to six months or more. No one knows what caused this to happen, but the doctors have assured us that his youth and health will definitely make the recovery process more bearable, and that they have no reason to expect anything less than a full recovery. We know we’re in it for the long haul, but the hope and the expectation that one day, I will again be able to have a normal conversation with my dad, and see him be free of this pain and suffering… well, that’s what’s getting me through it all right now. Being away from home during all this is hard. Really, really hard. But I’ve been able to see friends and stay busy, which makes it all a little better.

I guess what I want to say to everyone reading this is thank you. Thank you for your love and your prayers and your encouragement. Even if we don’t know each other in person, or even if it’s been years since we’ve last talked, thank you. Thank you to everyone who came to the hospital. To everyone who brought food and other goodies. To everyone who prayed hard for us and thought about us. To Mike and Sam for watching Gretchen for us. To my fellow Starbucks partners for taking care of my shifts for me. To all of my wonderful clients who have been so incredibly understanding throughout all this. To Jamie, for loving my family as much as I do, and for being just as emotionally affected as me. To Joy, who, despite not being an “official” member of the family, stayed day and night at the hospital for five days like such a trooper. To Seth, for being the best brother, and for being able to understand the impact of all this. To my mom, just for being who she is.

And thank you to my dad. For everything. For having the determination to make it through this. For loving me at my best and worst. For being my biggest fan and also for keeping me honest and accountable. For all that you’ve done for me and for SO many other people, which has been made even more obvious to me throughout this whole ordeal. I love you so much and honestly can’t imagine life without you. So many things could have made this situation much worse, and I’m just thankful for your life, and the life you bring to my life. I promise to never take that for granted again.