Tuesday

I am glad I've made it to this point on this day of this week of this month.  Tonight was the last night of one of my doctoral classes.  Mondays and Tuesdays this entire semester I've been at work at 7-ish a.m. and in class teaching or as a student all day until 8:30 p.m.  I'm exhausted mentally and physically and feel a panic attack just under the surface. That's actually why I'm here writing now.  To talk myself back from the ledge. 

How on earth are you doing this?  That's what my peers are asking me.  I suppose being pragmatic is the way I'm doing it.  Just doing what has to be done.  So working full time with the long hours nights and weekends teaching anywhere for anyone who will sign a contract.  Trying my hardest to get through 2 doctoral classes each semester.  And this semester getting slammed with doctoral level inferential statistics.  I was earning a B until October 1 when Dad first collapsed.  It's been a downward spiral for him and my grade ever since.

The class that ended tonight was the easier of the 2.  Yes, I have one final paper that is due in a week.  But that is one I can do my in sleep.  But this stats class and research project is massive. My topic?  It's quite entertaining if only I had time to laugh:   Statistically similarities between those who attend church weekly and those who do not attend church weekly as it pertains to sexual behavior as a thrill-seeking activity.  I kid you not.  Crazy!  I'd be enjoying it if I didn't have my parents lives in shambles right now.

So the update on them.  Today Dad was to have another needle biopsy.  Lori and I arrived early to be with him.  He refused to have the procedure because the 2 tries last week caused his lung to collapse. He's not interested in going through that again.  The nurse left for us to have "private time to discuss the decision" which I took it to mean, hey look -- this is serious crap we're talking about now.  So Lori and I had Dad call Mom to tell her his decision.  His eyes got misty and his mouth was down-turned on both corners.  I believe if we weren't there he'd have cried.  But I understand his point. Mom suggested going to other hospitals and searching for a doc that could do something.  But Dad reminded her that it isn't the doc's but his lungs that can't hold out.   As soon as he was off the phone, he was at peace with the decision.

I asked him a couple of times if he was certain.  I told him I didn't want him to have buyer's remorse in a few weeks not having a proper diagnosis.  He said he understood.  He also said something along the lines that he could be around a couple of more years and be better than if he was going through chemo or radiation or he could be gone more quickly.  But the less suffering for him the better.  I have to agree.

So Lori needed to breathe by this point. So she headed to Waffle House to pick up a breakfast order for him.  I found the number, plugged it into his phone, and he called and placed his order.   Lori said that when she arrived, his friends and the staff gathered around for an update on Dad.  They wouldn't let her pay for the food and sent a cup of coffee along as well -- a cup that had sweet get well wishes and hearts drawn on it.  Oh, my Daddy is a love man!   He was so happy to see the food and hear about his friends. 

I noticed at one point he was tapping his fingers on the table.  Drumming them sort of.  I asked if he was ok or nervous or relieved.  He said relieved... that he felt at peace with his decision.  And so it is.  He has peace tonight. 

Tomorrow they will clamp the chest tube in the morning.  Then in the afternoon take a chest x-ray.  Then maybe tomorrow night he can go home -- or at least by Thursday morning. 

Mom is at a loss.  This is her life long best friend we're talking about.  I feel so bad for the 2 of them.  Now I really mean my blog's title -- the part about sloppy joes.  I hate this stuff.  I buried so many people when I was in HR.  I was at the hospital when people turned off machines.  I helped grieving families arrange funerals for children who had died.  I attended cremations.  But I am not ready for this. 

Does it make it worse that I am struggling in my doctoral program?  I'm not sure.  I'm numb all the way around.  But in a way, each horrible path gives me a brief respite from the other.  Regardless of what happens, the world will go on even if I don't.  Even when I don't.  Right now, at 11:27 p.m., I wish I was with either my Mom or Dad right now.  I feel like a 6 year old who is afraid of the dark.  I'm a control freak and I have no control. 

Sunday Football

I need a vacation from the long weekend.  Going back seems to easy but then how will I manage to parent-sit, work, and study.     Lori and I tag-teamed Mom today.  Lori took her to the hospital to visit Dad.  We swapped after about an hour and I stayed with Mom another 2 hours at the hospital then took her home.  I'm physically exhausted now.  I thought I was yesterday.  Nope, today is worse.  Dad's condition hasn't changed. He's in a good mood and hasn't gotten too agitated about going home.  I'm eager for the report tomorrow to give us an idea as to how much longer he'll be in the hospital this time. I'm also eager to hear if his chest tube can be removed.  He'll be able to shower once that is done and overall will feel more comfortable.  As for biopsy results, we don't look for anything for a few more days.  The fungal and bacterial results will still be a few weeks away.  What we are interested in hearing is whether or not his current pulmonologist will remain on his case or if -- because the cause of the growing dark area can't be determined -- he'll be transferred to a different specialist with perhaps another idea so to how to proceed. 

Progress can't be hurried.  Maybe in this case, hurry is bad thing anyhow. I always think it's foolish for people to say "I wish it were Friday."   Whose to say they'll be alive on Friday?  Or that they'll still be employed on Friday?   I'm learning to be content with and make the most of each day.  Right now, for me, that means I need rest.

When a BM is a treat

You know that life is way too complicated when a bowel movement is to be celebrated.  Well, anyhow, that's how my Dad felt tonight.  After a terrific televised game of the Hogs beating LSU, the hospital was swarming with activity.  I guess most people were home watching the tv and the med staff were hiding in closets because as soon as it ended, it was a mad house!   Six different nurses or technicians plus the pulmonolgist in the span of 45 minutes.  Woohoo!  Dad's chest tube was clamped because his x-ray this am revealed no collapse.  But then the pulmonologist on call wanted it unclamped so the suction to the chest would continue "just in case" they have to biopsy more on Monday.  Well, well, that was news.  The official pulmonologist had led us to believe clamp today, pull tube out after another good x-ray tomorrow.  Nonetheless, I won't argue and trust they know best.  

Dad's hiatal hernia and COPD makes eating difficult - especially in a semi-reclining position.  Hence, he's not eaten much in a few days.  Tonight Lori and I had him at about 90 degrees and he ate 2 packages of pb crackers and drank half a coke.  Afterwards, and it seemed like warp speed, he was ready to try walking to the restroom.  None of that bedpan mess for him.  So we snaked tubes here and there and he was proudly successful of using the restroom like a man.  

After tucking him in for the night, I left to visit Mom.  She was in bed as well.   In the den next to her bedroom were Kris's 2 oldest and about 10 friends watching the football games.  They were staying nearby in case Mom needed something and so that she wouldn't feel alone or spooked.

Derek and Gaby are back in OKC now.  Jill texted from Chicago.  Tomorrow she and her bf Adam go to Soldier Field to watch their Bears play the Eagles... Michael Vick's new team.  I'd love to be at that game but not at 30 degrees outdoors!  Soon my home will be back to the workweek.  I've much to do to be ready including a research paper due tomorrow at midnight.  But at least today was good.  I'm really sleepy and cuddling with my hubby sounds so wonderful.  We NEVER seem to get peace and quiet these days. But all is right (enough) with the world that I'm headed that way now.  No hanky panky, just plain ole fashioned cuddle and sleep.  :-)

Thanksgiving Day

I am so tired!  Yesterday was a long day of tidying the house and cooking and then entertaining family. I have to give props to my hubby Steve as well as son Derek and his Gaby.  They really came through helping me -- especially with Jill absent.  She's my right hand when it comes to these things and I miss her being in Chicago this weekend.

It has gotten quite cold and Mom decided to stay home rather than join the usual feast at my house.  This meant staying home alone.  My aunt Jo, who herself lost her father this year, loaded up 2 plates and took them to have dinner with Mom.  What a sweetie that Jo is!  I'm sure it was easier for her as well to be away from the craziness that always happens when we get the Hall family together at holidays.   My son Derek and Kris's son Tye hooked up a laptop at the hospital and hooked up another to our tv.  So we were able to Skype with Dad at dinner time!  We heard the doc come in to give dad the plan for his bronchoscopy biopsy and then we even sung Happy Birthday to Dad!   I've posted a link on Facebook.   My blind uncle Gary has been talking smack for a year now about beating Derek at Wii bowling.  So the game was on and the room filled with spectators as we watched Gary throw strike after strike defeating Derek again this year.  It's quite entertianing when a blind man outbowls a 20-something.

Once everyone had left, in spite of being exhausted, I headed to the hospital to sit with Dad for a while. He was exhausted from his many visitors.  His left lung remain inflated.  We talked about the tests that would follow Friday (today).  I tidied his room, tucked him in, and watched a few crime scene shows with him before leaving.

This morning my sisters and I (as well as my darling niece Abbie, Lori's daughter) joined Dad as he went for his test.  He was in good spirits.  I commented that we were the Macy's Day after Thanksgiving Day parade as we marched to the endoscopy section.  Mom's brother Eddie joined us.

Dr. Homsi told us the scope appears to be successful in that he retrieve 16 tissue samples.  He isn't certain if he was in the precise spot because the area is where the 2 lobes of the left lung come together and there is the membrane that holds them together.  But he went every direction he could and took samples along the way.  Dad's lung remained inflated and he tolerated the procedure well.  Once he was in recovery, the others scampered back to their other activities (work, caring for Mom, etc.) and I stayed with Dad until he was moved back to his room.  I was smart enough to remember to ask for the warmed blankets before leaving endoscopy because they don't keep those on the floors.   And it's cold today -- frost on the windows cold.  So he was toasty and woozy.  It will be about 4 hours before he can safely eat or drink.  He thought he was awake enough to read the paper but he quickly realized he should just sleep.  So I tucked in and left for home.

Gaby, my dearest son's dear fiance, is eager to put up the Christmas tree today.  She always does the one at her family's home in Peru but she's not gotten to do that for 2 years now.  And I'd be glad to have her do our tree.  She seems to think this will be a bonding experience for us but I'm so pooped I think supervising is more in line with my energy today.

All in all, the last 36 hours have been pretty good.  I met a future cousin-in-law and her daughter, my uncle Bob's new bride, and a cousin's new baby.  Joseph our Taiwanese friend drove in from OKC for the party and our neighbors joined us for a bit.  Gary's friend Ina from the center where he lives joined us again this year as well.   Izzie (our youngest Westie) loved snuggling in Miss Ina's lap.  And I think Ina enjoyed Izzie.

I'd better get that tree and trimmings ready for Gaby to start soon.  I'd like a nap before returning to parent duty tonight but that's ok if I don't get it.  I'll sleep like a baby tonight!

Thanksgiving Day, 2010

I’m not sure where my emotions last evening came from.  I was experiencing anger at the universe for taking away over 8 months of my last 11 years…  more days that are in 8 months… that’s how many days I’ve had a parent in the hospital.   I am filled with despair at the situation where has no pleasant outcomes as options.  I am anger at myself for engaging in self-pity when neither of my parents asked for the roles to which fate has assigned them.  I am embarrassed that I get so mad at either of them—but mostly Mom—and play the ‘what if” games thinking that if we’d done something different along the way we wouldn’t all be so miserable now.  And I’m tired.  And I hurt.  And I really don’t care to go on with this life.  Existence on earth really feels a bit useless. 

Today is Dad’s 71^st birthday.  I hope he feels better about his life than I do about mine right now.  I recall his birthdays when we were younger, making golden butter cakes with chocolate frosting and singing to him.  He even had a headful of hair back then.  I miss my Daddy already and he isn’t even gone.   His partner misses him to.  And I miss the woman she used to be before a stroke 11 years ago robbed us of the real Linda Kern Hall.  I am jealous that other people take their parents for granted and they have good health and haven’t exhausted their resources just to stay alive. 

Yesterday there a number of small meltdowns, baseless accusations from mentally impaired parents, and then plenty of hurt feelings.  So hurt, in fact, that Kris’s kids don’t even want to be near their grandmother.  So hurt, that one chose to go spend the weekend with the sperm-donor dad from whom there is practically no support as opposed to stay at his own home this Thanksgiving weekend.

I feel like I’m in a Thelma and  Louise movie.  Nothing is going right and the border is the only escape. But you know they really do go across the border.  

Today my dad’s family will begin arriving at my house at 3:30.  My husband has been the best… mopping and cleaning while I either tend to my parents or try to complete my 2 classes I am taking.   Both are doctoral classes and have significant demands of brain power and energy for research the next 2 weeks.  So Steve, you’re a hero.  Yet the house still needs to be tidied up, laundry done, food prepared.  It’s 8:42 am and I haven’t the energy to walk to the bathroom let alone drag out the sage or soften butter.  But I will.  I’m giving myself the next 17 minutes to compartmentalize my life and get into the “normal” and “pleasant” and “collected” moods to which others are accustomed to seeing me.  It will with a shower, a coke with crushed ice, and then the bell rings mentally and we’re out of the gate to get this Thanksgiving day rolling along.

Bummer

I arrived at the hospital at 6:30 and well ahead of my family.  Mimicking my husband and his French butler line  “rooooom service” line that he’s used with the kids and me over the years, I slid open the door and said “valeeeeeeeet service.”   And like that our day was off and going.

My 2 sisters and parents were all checked in at 7 but waited nearly 2 hours before the procedure began.  During the holding time, I learned where the warm blankey machine was located and got enough to sufficiently mummify both parents.  Those toasty blankets are the best!

We'd been told the procedure would last about an hour. Unfortunately, Dad's lung collapsed almost instantly.  The doc (with whom I am impressed) came to tell us the first challenge and then returned to attempt the biopsy.  Within minutes he was back out and said the pneumothorax  (as in size of the collapse) had increased during the short time he'd been talking to us and was now too large to risk continuing. He said he'd not seen such a significant “pneumo” before.  I quipped "wow, a dad's a leader, but just the opposite direction."   He chuckled.  The doc said dad wasn't in any pain and was resting fine but that he didn't want to proceed with the biopsy.  He had though that he could penetrate the fibrous membrane between the lobes and go at it from another angle but the size of the leak was so significant that it would be dangerous. 

So for now, there will be no biopsy.  Dad's being suctioned and responding well to the treatment.  His lung is expanded and hopefully won't collapse again.  He got his request and had the large chest inserted from the very start.  Funny how you learn things from a crisis and an early lung collapse taught us to always insist on the large chest tube.  The drainage was going well with the little red bubbles slowly working their way through the tube to the collection unit for measurement. 

Dealing with Mom again is another story.  Her remarks are often off-putting and frustrating.  But as my dear husband reminded me, she can't see the situation enough to assess anything and her brain really doesn't work like it used to.  Everyone's emotions are raw and we're tired so of course things get taken out of context. 

As much as my writing this might lead one to believe we don't get along, nothing could be further from the truth.  My sisters and I work so well together keeping each other in check.  Steve was giving should massages in the waiting room (to our family only) and we enjoyed snuggling in warm blankets and drinking coffee. 

Tonight Dad will stay in the hospital and likely he will stay tomorrow night as well.  I'm excited to hear his hospitalist is the new guy from Peru.  And I'm more excited to know that his pulmonologist who we've grown fond of is on call tomorrow should anything go awry.

In the meantime, I have work to do.  Gaby and Derek will arrive from OKC tonight.  Their Taiwanese friend is coming as well.  So I must rush home to strip beds and get the dressing going.  I use a recipe that belonged to Mama Hall and it's a crowd favorite.  We expect around 40 at our house tomorrow evening.  As exhausted as I am, it will be refreshing to have family around us again. 

Birthdays

Tonight was a good night.  We gathered at my Mom and Dad's (and sister's of course) to celebrate my hubby's godson and my nephew's 16th birthday. Happy Birthday, Tye!  It was a sweet night.  Dad talked intermittently about the procedure and things that he wanted to tell us.  Lori hogged him for the first part of the night and I hogged him the second part.  By hogging, I mean we doted.  Gently rubbing his back -- something Mom hasn't been able to do for 11 years.   He'd injured his thumb and the bandaid wouldn't stay on; so I wrapped tape around it to keep it in place.  Lori brought him his meds.  My phone rang and I handed it to Dad.  It was my son Derek and the two talked a short while.  I have no idea why but Dad told Derek the story about the largest water moccassin he'd ever seen.... running yoyo's at night and shooting the thing behind the head.... then placing it on the trail from the cabin to the water so the women would shriek when they saw it.  He laughed some and seemed to be enjoying the story telling.  It was a good night indeed.

Except for Lori.  She's worried herself sick and has lost probably 10 pounds in the last weeks.  It would be a blessing for me to be plagued in that way, but she's a tiny thing.  Her blood pressure tonight was nearly stroke level but I didn't tell her that.  I told her to watch the numbers and if it stayed around 140 on top or near 110 on bottom, to call her doc.  I also reviewed with her the signs of stroke.  Poor baby sister, I love you!   Take care of yourself so I'm not as alone on this awful journey.

Kris is the one who bears the most weight.  She's living with Mom and Dad so hears the nagging more than we do.  Step and fetch'em is what we really call it.  Dad's just not as quick to respond as Mom seems to think he should be.  But she's (Mom) is trying to be more patient.  She's frightened of losing him as her husband and as her caregiver.

As we were leaving, Mom was going to bed and dad was finally checking 6 weeks worth of emails. I have a hunch he's still on the computer.  :-)    Tomorrow I'll call about one of the life insurance policies and they'll check on an old annuity.  Busy work sort of.  But things to help settle his mind. We could all use settling of our minds right now.

It was a whirlwind of activity when I arrived at my parents.  Mom's sister Rosetta was visiting and our CNA Mona was there as well.   My sister Kris was preparing to bake.  Shortly after I arrived, my other sister Lori and her hubby and daughter arrived.  It took us a while but we finally got things lined out enough to work on preparing a list of what is located where (finances and policies).  I'd tried doing this back in October when Dad first got sick but Mom's memory is impaired much of the time.  Literally I was being led by a blind woman and that wasn't too successful!  So between my parents and sisters, we were able to identify all the things needing identifying.  Dad was a sweet little old man laying on the sofa with his O2 and blankets.  Mom, more of a grumpy old bear, was getting accustomed to having the furniture rearranged in the den.  Seems her lift chair had been crimping Dad's O2 hose and when that happens, things get crazy!  For 2 years we tried to rearrange the room but they'd not have it.  Now it's just the way we tried to put it in the beginning.  But this is their idea so I think they'll be pleased.   Lori's daughter Abbie and my sister Kris commenced to baking and I was off to school for a meeting about our trip to the Peru dig site.

The UA Razorbacks were on tv last night.  I'd called to see how things were going.  Mom was in bed early as usual and Dad laying on the sofa watching the game.  He'd intended to move to the bedroom at halftime to watch the remainder of it in there.  Mom had other plans and found her way back to the living room so she could hold his hand a while. I think today it dawned on her that he may not be here in a week.

Why a week?  Wednesday, his little sickly lungs will be biopsied.   He's been told he has a malignant lung cancer that the precise type of cancer is unknown.  A PET scan won't help (though I offered to send my two adorable pooches to help) to determine the type of cancer.  Though he can't have radiation and likely wouldn't tolerate chemo, the only other option would be surgery and they advise against that as well.  But for his peace of mind, he wants to know what it is.  It has grown from 1" to 1.5" in diameter in just 5 weeks so it is fast growing for now -- whatever it is.  Lori asked Dad if he was certain he wanted this procedures which he'd originally declined.  He responded if he dies during the procedure, he won't know it happened and he'll have been sedated so it won't be painful (paraphrased here).  Logical again... but sad and scary too.

Today I hope to finish my research paper for Stats.  Abbie will be delivered to my house later today to chop/dice celery, onions, etc. and make cornbread.   But a quiet little goal of my own is to spend time writing  a death notice that will do my Dad a little more justice than the typical obituary.  After all, I know of no other man -- well one, Harry Neumeier who has now passed on -- who has devotedly cared for a very sick partner for 11 years.   Growing up, we had the greatest vacations and silly birthday parties.  My parents were terrific people and cared for everyone they met.  I remember transporting crash victims we'd encounter on our way on the old Highway 71 ...  taking them to hospitals and following up to see they were ok.  My parents were nurturers of everyone around them.  So in these last 11 years, when my mother was unable to do most everything for herself, it was dad that did the work for 2.  This past April when another stroke robbed my mother of her eyesight, it was my dad who became her eyes.  In 1961 at St. Boniface Catholic Church, when Father Peter asked them to pronounce their vows "For better, for worse, in sickness and health".... I'm sure they never knew what lay ahead.

For some reason, Garth Brooks song "The Dance' comes to mind when I think of their journey together.

Looking back on the memory of
The dance we shared beneath the stars above
For a moment all the world was right
How could I have known you'd ever say goodbye
And now I'm glad I didn't know
The way it all would end the way it all would go
Our lives are better left to chance I could have missed the pain
But I'd of had to miss the dance
Holding you I held everything
For a moment wasn't I the king
But if I'd only known how the king would fall
Hey who's to say you know I might have changed it all
And now I'm glad I didn't know
The way it all would end the way it all would go
Our lives are better left to chance I could have missed the pain
But I'd of had to miss the dance
Yes my life is better left to chance
I could have missed the pain but I'd of had to miss the dance.

The last dance they shared was at the wedding of Patricio and Jamie Kern Giovanni in August at that same church, St. Boniface.  There in the dimly lit parish hall, my Dad wheeled Mom out onto the dance floor and gently moved her to and fro while we daughters and husbands and our own little families, beamed and squealed and rallied around them.  The Dance.  

Busy living or busy dying

It's a choice I suppose.  Yesterday my dad heard the words from the oncologist.  Maliginant.  Grew fast.  Hard place to get too.   Not a candidate for...

So when the hospitalist came in, Pop was fired up about getting the hell out of dodge.  He wasn't wanting to stick around for another albuterol treatment.  He wanted to go home.  With a 30% chance of surviving a biopsy, he didn't want that either.  But then his curiosity started to bug him and he wanted to know what kind of cancer and confirm it was indeed cancer and and and.   So just like he was negoiating to purchase a car, he negotiated with the kind doc a release on Friday to return next week for the ever-so-risky biopsy. 

My mother was there as was my sister.   Mom is such a challenge.  She was talking to Dad about putting up a flagpole this weekend because the weather would be nice.  Then he could string Christmas lights up from the ground in a inverted cone just as he'd done when we were kids.  So at night it was a glorious Christmas tree.  We all snapped at her for being so silly to think he could do that.  But she's legally blind.  It's hard for her to comprehend what's going on when she can't see him or the  machines or any of us.  The patience of Job, that's what Santa needs to bring me for Christmas.  My sister and Mom left after the oncologist left. 

Then it was just Dad and me again. He'll go back the day before Thanksgiving and have to stay 48 hours.  Thanksgiving is his birthday.  And he loves the turkey and dressing and such.  Heck, my dressing recipe is his mother's!

After the doc left, Dad and I talked about radiation (it will destroy the small good part of his 2 lungs when it's killing the cancer), the chemo (he's too immune compromised now to be a candidate), going back on the ventilator and other life support systems.  It was hard.  I told him he didn't have to fight it if he didn't want to anyhow.  I introduced him to the term palliative care and how it's all about making a person comfortable (or as much so as possible) as they are dying.  I kept the conversation as light as I could even throwing in a quip that he'd be a candidate for medical marijuana if we had that here.  But the gloom didn't dissipate.

I stayed as long as I could then kissed him goodbye like always.  A little peck on the side of his face with the words "Love you, Daddy."  But this time my voice cracked.  He smiled in his silly way with the corners of his mouth turned up and his cheeks puffed out.  It was a long walk to my car.   My good long cry is coming.  But just not yet.

Eights days a week

At least that's how long its been since I posted.  Mom and Dad were getting settled in their routines again when Dad developed a new pneumonia and collapsed again just 3 days ago.  Whew, never gonna catch a break!  We learned when he was being processed for ICU that he does indeed have cancer.  The pulmonologist confirmed it last night.  Dad doesn't want mom to know so as not to worry her.  So my sisters and I are the secret keepers again.  I decided this morning that as soon as I'm done with my statistics class ("sadicistics") that I will concentrate on planning funeral things.  You know, writing the death notice that is more inclusive in details than the standard obituary.  I'll get info on flowers and music and the like.  We'd done some of this already but I think it would be good to have things planned in detail for both parents so we rest in the comfort of family members rather than the busy details when the time comes.  I know busy work gets people through but people also make mistakes and have regrets when they are rushed in the process.  So I want to do this now. 

I have also decided that as soon as sadistics is done and I have Christmas break, I want to get my parents to both tell their life stories as best as they can.  I'll then either type and have it bound in a book or make a recording of it.  I did this with my Grandmother Hall but now the recording isn't as crisp and the media that is used to play recordings changes too swiftly.  So a written edition seems wiser to me.

I have much to do this morning.  Over the course of the last 45 days, many bills were overlooked.  The same can be said for work and school assignments. It's been crazy trying to catch up.  Toss into the mix my daughter's bf returning from Afghanistan and the chaos of their planning their next step... and well, life just gets too busy!  Sloppy joes.... sloppy joes.... 

Zero to 100 in how many seconds?

How does a person go from clinically dead (for all intents and purposes) to full of vigor in just 30 days? Nearly 3 weeks on life support and now back to full speed?  Dad's only problem is the confusion he still has from time to time. The ICU psychosis appears to have lifted but from time to time he visits "looloo" land again.  He's usually good to me and sweet like always.  That is unless Mom is grumpy.

My mother really doesn't like me. I don't mind that so much anymore. She isn't the mom I knew for the first 45 years or so. I don't mind being the "nazi" or "mean one".  I am the reality check person - the one who says "no, dad can't push you up the ramp" or "no a blind person like you can't drive a power chair." 

On a brighter note, the other part of this sandwich deal is going rather well. I spent a long weekend with my son's fiance while he was at Air National Guard drilling.  The 2 of us had a great time for 4 days...  as you may know I'm in grad school so studied the 2 days while she worked. But in the evening and Saturday we had a fun time going to new places to eat and shopping.  We had dinner one night with their couple friend.  The young lady, a Brazilian, has landed a job in Sao Paolo and they will be moving there soon.  So sad to see such sweet young couples such as that move so far away.  On the flip side, it's someplace to visit.

My daughter's new boyfriends -- the one who might be THE ONE -- arrived from Afghanistan. He's just completed his second tour (first was in Iraq) and has decided its time to quit playing and start thinking about his long term plans.

Our young adult children are wonderful, smart, and highly ambitious kids.  They've not ended up in jail or on drugs.  They are self reliant and compassionate.  The happiness (pure laughing crazy happiness) they add to our lives is no different as young adults than those cute little toddlers they once were.  I just wish their grandparents were better able to enjoy these days of transition into career-minded adults who will be marrying soon.

And the Doctor Smiled

I took Pop for his first visit with the pulmonologist.  We arrived early and were in pretty good moods.  Dad was wearing his oxygen and his pulse ox was bouncing around 97.  When the doc arrived, he grinned ear to ear and said he was completely surprised to see dad... given his condition upon arrival in ER.   He listened to his lungs and said he couldn't believe how well he was doing and again, was happy that he was doing so very well.  The doc asked if my dad recalled how he arrived at the hospital, his condition, or much of his hospital stay.  There was no memory of it. The visit wasn't without it's dire warnings -- a CAT scan next week will determine the extent of the damage and perhaps cancer in his left lung.  But for today, we're celebrating his life. 

The nurse conducted a exertion test to see how he handled getting his heart rate up to 120 and the impact that would have on his O2 levels.  As I keyed a note to my sisters, the auto correct on my iPhone said he was having an "insertion test."  We had a great laugh about that.

So for today, my dad's restrictions for driving are lifted.  He's required to use O2 24/7 and can push my mother's wheelchair only on flat surfaces.  No meds changes.  CAT scan in a week.  He's a new man -- and openly thankful to be alive. 

Once we were settled in the car, I asked Dad if he realized how close we'd come to losing him.  Today, for the first day, he was completely lucid.  He told me no.  I told him the story again.  And then I warmly rubbed and squeezed his left knee and said I was so glad that we was doing so well.

Twas Providence Hovering

I suppose that is what it was.  Dad, the man who isn't to be driving, drove to the Waffle House for coffee with his drinking buddies, to the funeral home to inquire about an old policy, and the pharmacy to pick up a script. No shrubbery was damaged and he was chipper from the adventure.  His "ICU psychosis" may finally be lifting and not a day too soon. My sisters and are are exhausted from parenting our parents.  If we as teens were half as difficult as they've been, it's a wonder we were beaten within an inch of our lives!  

I was thinking about the Kubler-Ross grief cycle.  We're a new normal now.  As little sis pointed out, we have episodes with one or the other parent about every 6 months.  So I guess we've started recovering a little more quickly.  The 11 hours of sleep I got yesterday didn't hurt any either!

Today I've noticed a "Thankful for Thirty" campaign on Facebook.  My first attitude of gratitude mention goes like this:  Today I am thankful that Dad had independence enough to venture out on his own and the clarity enough to make it home safely.  That's a little miracle.