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.
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