L.O.V.E. Living One Vibrational Energy

I've always hated hearing the word "love" tossed around, as casually as hello and goodbye. You could say it's because I'm cold and unfeeling, but you'd be wrong. Like most people, I have a way about me, and that's one of them. LOVE is such a powerful expression of affection for another person, because it completely embraces into the emotional fold so unconditionally every single aspect of things that happen to us in life...beginning, end and in-between. It's not a still photo shot of just the picture perfect memories at Christmases, Church on Sundays, if you're so inclined, Easter dinners with Mom and Dad and the FAM, tiny little precious additions, graduations, marriages. It's carrying someone, a cherished someone, someone you once said "I love you" to, like, a million times, when they can no longer stand on their own.

It's sitting at Dad's bedside when his teeth aren't in because bone deterioration is so bad dentures no longer fit like they’re supposed to. It's holding his hand when he's scared, and the only way you can tell, really, with such a proud man like Dad, is when you feel his hand clasped in yours tighten, as if just the thought of letting go is the equivalent of letting go of everything dear. It's listening to him talk about moments that are past as if they just happened, and then glimpse for a moment the confusion when he realizes things are not coming out right. It's watching him hold on so desperately to a familiar life that's fast slipping away and making sure to look directly into his eyes when you say, 'I WILL NOT LEAVE YOU HERE', so he will believe it and keep fighting.

Love will walk into the dark with you; you feel it all around you protecting you, holding you up when your legs are too weak. Love is everything and in every moment. L.O.V. E. Living One Vibrational Energy, that's it. Accepting anything less, is just wrong. So, yeah, sue me, for not wanting to hear the word from a single mouth unless it's raw and true like it's meant to be.

We put Dad in a nursing facility this past week. It's supposed to be only for a week or two. With dialysis added to the mix, he's got a lot on him right now. And he's got a full catheter, possibility of having to use a cath a day. A week, two at the max. Until he's stronger, then home and home health care. That's what the doctor said. Dad's always seemed bigger than life to me, yeah Superman. But, on my way out of the room, I looked back, and for a moment, it looked like the bed could swallow him whole. The last few weeks in the hospital have taken a toll. He's still Superman. To me. I love you Dad.

The rain literally pummeled my car on the way home after getting Dad settled in, but I hardly noticed, because my eyes were so blurred from my own inner storm. God took the wheel that day, 'cause I could barely see or focus on the expanse of road in front of me, and yet, I made it home safely.

God this hurts.

Planning For Home Care

Last few days have been rough for Dad, and for all of his fam watching him go through it. He's still in the hospital being treated for Phneumonia and a collapsed lung. They stopped his dialysis for now, as his breathing seems to be doing okay. And another good thing is he no longer needs the BIPAP during the day as his oxygen levels are fairly good and now he only requires the two plugs in the nose delivering normal doses of oxygen. He's kept on the BIPAP at night in an effort to get rid of a build up of mucus, which caused one of his lungs to collapse, with treatments of meds that are administered through the breathing aparatus. I know all of this sounds grim, and it is, but he is doing better. Yesterday he was able to walk down the hall with his cane, with Tamara on one side of him and the nurse on the other...just in case. I couldn't help notice how rediculously small his ankles were. They were normally three times the size they should be. This was apparently the work of dialysis with the removal of excess fluids from his body. He's doing pretty good putting down the grub too, which is a definite improvement from when he was admitted to the hospital. The social worker paid a visit to talk about the usual things, who's taking care of him when he gets out, services available to assist him and family and the fact they think he should go to a facility...the usual stuff. Dad assured them his family could take care of him and reittered the fact that he was not going into a facility.

Is it normal for me to be so anxious? I worry about how we're going to make things work so Dad gets the at-home care he needs. Each time Dad has one of these episodes he returns home with at least one or two more issues. For example, one, two or three additional medications, at least one more ailment...this time, oxygen deficientcy, which means he has to have a machine in the house, which he will probably need for the rest of his life and dialysis treatment which he will have to have at least three times a week at a facility -- again, for the rest of his life. Oh, and I think I mentioned in one of my posts that he swore he would never have the homehealth people in his home again. Yeah, well, unfortunately since Dad plans on rehabilitating at home, Home Health Care is a must.

Dont' take this wrong, but I feel so much more comfortable and at ease with Dad in the hospital. We know he's being taken care of while he's there by professionals who actually know what they're doing. Anyway, we're still standing. Ciao.