More Trips to the ER

Friday and Saturday were good days for Dad. Debbie and Vickie came over Friday night and we had a slumber party around the hospital bed we have set up in the living room. Vickie was on the recliner and Debbie on the love seat curled up with countless blankets on top of her like she was in the middle of a winter storm inside the house. Dad requires the heat up several notches and for a gal like me that prefers a room to be properly chilled, I was in a sauna so it wasn't long before I said my good nights and went upstairs. I couldn't help teasing Vickie on my way out that the warmth in the room had her back in the womb and soon she'd be nodding off. Debbie said Dad slept really well that night.

Saturday night was a whole different matter. I was trying to get comfortable on the couch but like I said, the heat kicks my butt and I tossed and turned. Dad woke up countless times during the night asking for the time. The hiccups were bothering him again, interrupting his sleep, and he complained of stomach pains. He hadn't had any output in his coloscopy bag since Thursday and it was causing me some concern. The Gentiva Home Health Nurse told us that if he was still constipated by Sunday call the nurse on call. So bright and early Sunday morning I made the call, and we were advised to go to the ER, which we did. Jean came over and helped me get him to the car. Vickie joined us at around 12:30 and we waited with Dad in the room they tucked us in with him on a hospital bed covered in warm blankets. He talked non stop about his coloscopy bag, medicare, which he says we all need to read up on before our time is upon us, the difference between doctors, LPNs and PAs, the latter of which was the Doogie Houser looking dude that asked Dad medical questions and took his vitals. He was a twelve-year-old with a toy stethoscope. Dad's been plagued with some really brutal hiccups over the last week or so non stop, which the doctors says is attributed to the multiple serious illnesses he has, however for at least two hours at the ER he was hiccup free. And he ran his mouth as if to make up for lost time. Seriously? I kind of missed his chatter after almost two weeks of watching him catch his breath and gasp with spasms brought on by those darn hiccups. With all the other health issues he has to deal with hiccups just seem mean.

They gave Dad an emema and sent him home. With the aid of a walker we helped him back into the house and into a chair which he sat in for a while. I heated up some mash potatoes, meatloaf and peas Debbie made on Saturday and he ate heartily then asked Vickie to fix him another plate. Good to see him eating well. The day had taken its toll though and he seemed exhausted and weak. Again with the walker, I helped him back to his bed, lifted his legs up and helped him get comfortable and within minutes he was out cold. I really hope he sleeps well. I really hope he does.

God please ease up on the hiccups and allow Dad to have a restful sleep tonight. Love, Angie.

Standing In The Shadow of Death With My Father

I know what the shadow of death is now. It's sitting in the doctor's office beside my Dad, staring at the folder lying on the desk that contains his recent test results, and knowing the information within foretells the future, yet not knowing if I'm strong enough to withstand what's coming. It's watching him struggle to make his way back after cancer surgery, almost falter, then walk almost as straight and tall as before, although not quite the same. It's knowing he's making trips to chemo every Tuesday or Wednesday, hoping, praying, that not one teeny tiny cell will slip through, then scared to death with knowing there's a possibility it will. It's trips to the ER after one scare, then numerous more, and wondering how I can continue to keep breathing when my heart is breaking into tiny pieces. It's hearing reasons why lives that are in progress can not be interrupted, compromised or shared with someone at the end of theirs and never understanding the whys. It's family discussions about not understanding, misunderstanding, all the in-between places that lead to the possibility, no eventuality, that the life of someone else we love could be ending and wanting to scream, "How can you not willingly be present at such a time?!" It's listening, sighing, praying, needing, hoping for a miracle that I fear may not be granted. It's holding tight to someone I'm terrified of letting go of and feeling lost. It's reluctantly knowing, and dreading, that time is running out and eventually he will slip away. This is the place that holds captive all my tears, my soul, my heart that aches like nothing else can or will.

This is the place that has become so painfully familiar to me. I hate this place.

Dad update

I stand guilty of the charge of not consistantly blogging, but I'm innocent because Dad's been great the last couple of months so I decided to let the good moments speak for themselves. Uncle Ernie has been here for about 3 weeks now, and I've been staying at my own place and making daughterly visits. It's been nice. But sweet moments are really precious and can change without a--excuse me for the redundancy--moments notice. About a week ago Ernie had to take Dad to emergency after he complained of excruciating pain in his lower back. In addition, his bodily functions had ceased, no urination and no bowel movements. If he'd been a woman they'd have wheeled him directly to the maternity unit. His stomach was that distended. This started on Wednesday, however none of us knew about it until Friday, since Dad asked Ernie not to call us. I guess he figured he'd get sent home and everything would be fine. Not the case. They sent him home with a diagnosis of constipation and pain pills. Back to emergency on Friday--this time me and the rest of the family were informed--and to my absolute amazement, he was scheduled to be released on Saturday with the same diagnosis. We are not medical people but by no means does a diagnosis of constipation make any kind of sense. Symptoms: No peeing or pooping, blood in the urine and extreme lower back pain to the point morphine was necessary. I spoke to Ms. M.D. with the Jamaican accent, when she visited his room and she was very vague. "He's constipated and I'm concerned about his mental state. He's not quite as clear today as he was when I spoke to him on Wednesday. It concerns me." Really? Could it have something to do with the apparatus he had fisted in his right hand with instructions in invisible ink, Push red bottom for a really good feeling. He's on morphine for Pete's sake! I wanted to stick a needle in her butt filled with morphine and insist that she do the limbo. Ok-aay. Nobody can do the limbo on morphine. I explained patiently, "It's obvious his kidneys aren't functioning which means the morphine is probably taking some time to work through his body. I further explained that his decreased mental capacity is similar to what he experienced in December after his cancer surgery." Shouldn't she know this? The light went on. "Oh," she says as if I were brilliant and should perhaps consider going into the medical profession myself. "I will take him off morphine and put him on something else." Ya think?

We were starting to wonder if maybe Dad had told the staff not to discuss his medical situation with us because the feedback we were getting from them just wasn't making any sense at all. I googled kidney failure, and learned Dad was showing all the signs of renal failure. When I visited him in the hospital on Friday night he was a bit cranky. Morphine had him talking out of his left ear, which is how morphine affects Dad. Again, the fact his kidneys were only functioning at half capacity didn't help. He was complaining about being hungry, and that the nurse was mad at him and so was probably going to starve him. I said, "Yeah Dad, that's what they do, get mad for no reason at all, and then starve their patients." I know, I'm a bitch. "That's right!" Dad said. "Besides, you get mad all the time for no good reason." Oh gosh. He was irritable and although I could understand why he would be, I was tired and getting irritable too. Did I tell you? Dad's really good at saying things that ensure his family members will be good and pissed off when he's not on morphine. So, as soon as the nurse brought him his dinner tray I decided to go home. But he seemed to be wheezing heavily and it concerned me so I mentioned it to the nurse's assistant and she said they'd given him something for it earlier and would be administering another dose before bedtime. I asked her to keep an eye on him and she promised she would. I said goodbye to Dad, left and went home.

I couldn't have been home a hour when Vickie called. She was at the hospital and thought Dad was acting strange. He wanted to know when I'd be by for a visit. I told her I'd just left the hospital and explained that he still had morphine in his system which is why he was acting the way he was. Fifteen minutes later she called me again and said, "You gotta get back to the hospital." I think I remember my heart skipping a beat or two. I asked what happened. "Just get here," she repeated sounding very close to tears. When I got to the hospital Dad was in ICU; he'd stopped breathing and they were trying to resuscitate him. He was put on life support after that, and unconscious for almost two days. The doctor in ICU, Dr. Lee, said until he woke up she wouldn't be able to determine whether he would be worse than he was before the incident, better or the same as he was prior to the incident. They did a brain scan to make sure he hadn't had a stroke, then some test to make sure he hadn't suffered a heart attack. Test came back clear on both counts. Dad's stronger than most, and on the third day as I was talking to Debbie while sitting at his bedside, he just opened his eyes. Debbie teased, "Was Angie talking so loud she woke you up Dad?" He nodded. He was awake, and teasing us too. God is good. It felt like we'd been holding a collective breath for two days, and were only then able to exhale. Once they took the tube out of his mouth he started talking and didn't stop for eight hours.

This update was exhausting so I'll stop now.