WebKittyn Warbles
Thursday, November 29, 2007
From Bad to Worse to Worse
**Warning**
If you're coming here looking for something funny or happy, go away. I'm sorry this is so depressing but this is my blog and I need to keep it real.
I'd like to state for the record that I don't have the plague. People I'm close to seem to be having problems talking to me, it's nothing but uncomfortable silence. I know it's hard for them but ya know what? It's a lot harder for me. I told one person last night to just act normal around me. Let me be emotional when it hits me, cry when I need to, rage when I need to. Just give me strength and stop acting like I have the plague.
Things are not looking good. As much as I'm trying to follow the advice of the Cynical Gimp, it aint easy.
They did a shitload of tests yesterday. He has mucous around his lungs and can't breathe on his own at all. They had to raise the level of the respirator because even with the tube down his throat he wasn't getting the oxygen so they did all these tests and came up with ........... nothing conclusive.
This morning the lung specialist called to talk to my mother and informed her that they put a feeding tube into his stomach. He's a great doctor but one cold sonofabitch. My mother asked him if my dad was going to come out of this and he couldn't tell her yes. I mean, I know he can't but would it kill the dude to have a shred of compassion? My mother immediately lost it and went down to the hospital, didn't even give me time to change and go with her.
She just called me. They're suctioning the crap out of his chest but it's not doing anything. He did open his eyes and squeeze her hand but then he went right back out.
They talked to her about what's next. They're giving it another week on the machine with the tube down his throat and after that the next step is a tracheotomy. Then they hit her with the big cannons. They started talking to her about what happens in 2 weeks or so if he still can't breathe - long-term coma care. Living only on a ventilator and feeding tube. That pretty much did her in.
Was it really only a week ago I was sitting here laughing with him and waiting for Thanksgiving turkey? Can't be.
Things are really bad. She can't sleep in their bedroom and yesterday she lost it when she brought dinner home from the diner and saw my pickle (I always give my pickle to my dad). 46 years he's been her only love, her first love and lover and the reason she gets up in the morning.
I tell her not to dwell on what could happen. A lot can happen in two weeks and it doesn't have to be bad. It just seems so fucking grim. I know my mother, there's no way she would ever tell them to take him off the machine and let him go. The thought that he may never come home is killing me, I think I'm finally breaking today. I can't break though, my mother has no one else.
I'm having a really hard time here. I'm a daddy's girl and I always have been and of course my head wants to fuck with me and keep playing "Daddy's Little Girl" on the jukebox in my mind.
I want to thank the people who haven't been treating me with kid gloves and who asked questions and let me answer. You have no idea how much a little understanding can do for a person. And thank you to those of you sending prayers and good wishes. Last night I prayed, I haven't prayed since he had the stroke 13 years ago.
All I know is I need my dad and I'm not ready to let go. Fight this, dad. Fight this. Please.
If you're coming here looking for something funny or happy, go away. I'm sorry this is so depressing but this is my blog and I need to keep it real.
I'd like to state for the record that I don't have the plague. People I'm close to seem to be having problems talking to me, it's nothing but uncomfortable silence. I know it's hard for them but ya know what? It's a lot harder for me. I told one person last night to just act normal around me. Let me be emotional when it hits me, cry when I need to, rage when I need to. Just give me strength and stop acting like I have the plague.
Things are not looking good. As much as I'm trying to follow the advice of the Cynical Gimp, it aint easy.
They did a shitload of tests yesterday. He has mucous around his lungs and can't breathe on his own at all. They had to raise the level of the respirator because even with the tube down his throat he wasn't getting the oxygen so they did all these tests and came up with ........... nothing conclusive.
This morning the lung specialist called to talk to my mother and informed her that they put a feeding tube into his stomach. He's a great doctor but one cold sonofabitch. My mother asked him if my dad was going to come out of this and he couldn't tell her yes. I mean, I know he can't but would it kill the dude to have a shred of compassion? My mother immediately lost it and went down to the hospital, didn't even give me time to change and go with her.
She just called me. They're suctioning the crap out of his chest but it's not doing anything. He did open his eyes and squeeze her hand but then he went right back out.
They talked to her about what's next. They're giving it another week on the machine with the tube down his throat and after that the next step is a tracheotomy. Then they hit her with the big cannons. They started talking to her about what happens in 2 weeks or so if he still can't breathe - long-term coma care. Living only on a ventilator and feeding tube. That pretty much did her in.
Was it really only a week ago I was sitting here laughing with him and waiting for Thanksgiving turkey? Can't be.
Things are really bad. She can't sleep in their bedroom and yesterday she lost it when she brought dinner home from the diner and saw my pickle (I always give my pickle to my dad). 46 years he's been her only love, her first love and lover and the reason she gets up in the morning.
I tell her not to dwell on what could happen. A lot can happen in two weeks and it doesn't have to be bad. It just seems so fucking grim. I know my mother, there's no way she would ever tell them to take him off the machine and let him go. The thought that he may never come home is killing me, I think I'm finally breaking today. I can't break though, my mother has no one else.
I'm having a really hard time here. I'm a daddy's girl and I always have been and of course my head wants to fuck with me and keep playing "Daddy's Little Girl" on the jukebox in my mind.
I want to thank the people who haven't been treating me with kid gloves and who asked questions and let me answer. You have no idea how much a little understanding can do for a person. And thank you to those of you sending prayers and good wishes. Last night I prayed, I haven't prayed since he had the stroke 13 years ago.
All I know is I need my dad and I'm not ready to let go. Fight this, dad. Fight this. Please.
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