Today was another visit for Dad with Dr. Homsi, the pulmonologist. It was a bright sunny day with blustery winds. He had the customary chest x-ray before I met up with him. Dad has been in a really good mood the last few days -- a sign to me that he's feeling better. Yesterday he say his internal med doctor and got a good report (e.g. nothing to report so by default a good report). I plopped down next to Dad in the waiting room. He was thumbing through a magazine and started reading titles of articles to me. He came across one for muscadines and showed me some of the pictures. It was really cute of him. In that particular article, it said you could order them from such-and-such greenhouse company; Dad remarked "don't guess I ought to by them since they take a few years to mature." Then he chuckled. He found a recipe for a raspberry beverage and read it to me. I had to smile because others in the waiting room were hearing him. But I didn't care. -- it reminded me of the song "dance like nobody's watching." Who cares what those other people thought! The next recipe was for something like a grapefruit martini. Holy cow! We both laughed at the pucker power it'd take to get through a drink like that. He was intrigued by one ingredient "sweetened lime juice" and carried on and on "how in the sam hill do you get sweetened lime juice."
When Dad's name was called, he did his usual motion with his right index finger to "hurry on ahead of him." I smiled inside because I know in his mind I'm still his child -- just as my grown kids are to me. He was really chipper. Did I mention that before? As we approached the scale, Dad said 133. Nurse Kyra and I guessed his weight as well. He weighed 132.6. By rounding rules, that would be 133. Smarty pants.
I can't remember all his silliness in the exam room. But there was plenty. From his cold fingers not registering and the suggestion of warming one up in a body pocket (um, orifice) as well as other silly things.
When Dr. Homsi came in, he cut straight to the chase with us. The "legion" is smaller. There's been about at 70% reduction in density. WOW! Dr. Homsi was really pleased and said we'd repeat the x-ray and continue on the drug cocktail of prednisone, bactrim, and vfend for another 4 weeks. I asked Dr. Homsi if he'd had any successful interviews and was leaving. He said he was indeed leaving the end of June but he thought by then Dad will have turned the corner on this thing in his left lung. Dr. H and I locked our eyes for a moment. He gave me a mind-reading barely noticeable nod "yes" indicating that Dad was improving. This meant so much to me... Dr. H had promised to let me know when we needed to let Dad go and that he had a connection with Dad because he reminded him of his own father in Syria.
As we waited for Dr. H to return with the Rx info, Dad was swinging his legs. He kept saying "I can't believe this. I am getting better. This is such good news. Wow." It was so touching and wonderful and ... well I could go on and on.
Looking back at that visit now... I know it was good news. The pragmatic side of me says "slow down" and that Dad isn't out of the woods. He's a frail man and any number of setbacks could happen. But for today, we have a victory. As we walked out side by side, he was laughing and then commented "wonder if I can find the van." He knew, of course, he would. Today was the first day he's ever gotten the handicap spot by the front door. His luck was good today. Maybe he should go to the casino.
As we parted ways, I thought how beautiful the sky is today. The sun bright. The wind was swift and added a bit of craziness as my hair blew about my head. I looked up and said... good day, sunshine.
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