WebKittyn Warbles
Thursday, February 23, 2006
My Dad - Update Once More
My dad is home, he came home on Sunday. They weren't entirely sure they wanted to send him home so soon but he and my mother stuck to their guns and he's home.
99% of the tests all came back good. His heart is fine. The pacemaker is working perfectly. There is no cancer anywhere in his body. But. Always a but.
They have absolutely no clue why he's only getting oxygen from one lung. There was nothing they could find but the diaphragm isn't doing its thing and the lung it works with isn't being fed. At least that was how I understood it, I'm not much on biology.
He went home with oxygen, they actually found a place on Sunday who would come down to the hospital with the machine and the canisters and take as long as needed to explain and then bring it all home for set up.
He lost 11 pounds in the hospital and the Lasix they shot into his belly did him good, the foot swelling went down. His blood sugar is lower than it's been in years now and my mother has fully transformed into the food police, she leaves him his lunches everyday when she goes to work.
I'm torn. On one hand I'm beyond relieved at the things that came out good or not there in terms of cancer but on the other hand, it's a big adjustment to first accept that he's going to have the tube sticking out of his nose for the rest of his life and second, to see it. I have until my birthday (March 19) before I'll actually see him with the tube. My dad was always larger than life and the epicenter of the Ives family. I'm grateful that he has the oxygen and for what it's doing for him (he's sleeping through the night for the first time in months and not sleeping in his chair in the afternoons) but I hate that he needs it.
There is a small chance that as he loses weight and the diabetes and stuff gets more under control, the diaphragm problems with resolve. It's not a big chance but it's a chance and I'll take a chance.
I don't care what age you are, coming to terms with the mortality of a parent (or grandparent or spouse) is a really fucken hard thing to accept. This is my dad. He's not supposed to be getting older and sick, he's supposed to be hunting those rare books and doing the Chuck Dance when something goes wrong.
Safe bet that I'm going to have a lot more to reflect on about my dad but I wanted to leave an update for all the people who have been asking. He's a great man, he's my role model and best man in the world and so much of what I like about myself came from my dad.
But at least he's home and he's breathing like he hasn't in months. That's a good thing.
I just wish I was emotionally stronger.
99% of the tests all came back good. His heart is fine. The pacemaker is working perfectly. There is no cancer anywhere in his body. But. Always a but.
They have absolutely no clue why he's only getting oxygen from one lung. There was nothing they could find but the diaphragm isn't doing its thing and the lung it works with isn't being fed. At least that was how I understood it, I'm not much on biology.
He went home with oxygen, they actually found a place on Sunday who would come down to the hospital with the machine and the canisters and take as long as needed to explain and then bring it all home for set up.
He lost 11 pounds in the hospital and the Lasix they shot into his belly did him good, the foot swelling went down. His blood sugar is lower than it's been in years now and my mother has fully transformed into the food police, she leaves him his lunches everyday when she goes to work.
I'm torn. On one hand I'm beyond relieved at the things that came out good or not there in terms of cancer but on the other hand, it's a big adjustment to first accept that he's going to have the tube sticking out of his nose for the rest of his life and second, to see it. I have until my birthday (March 19) before I'll actually see him with the tube. My dad was always larger than life and the epicenter of the Ives family. I'm grateful that he has the oxygen and for what it's doing for him (he's sleeping through the night for the first time in months and not sleeping in his chair in the afternoons) but I hate that he needs it.
There is a small chance that as he loses weight and the diabetes and stuff gets more under control, the diaphragm problems with resolve. It's not a big chance but it's a chance and I'll take a chance.
I don't care what age you are, coming to terms with the mortality of a parent (or grandparent or spouse) is a really fucken hard thing to accept. This is my dad. He's not supposed to be getting older and sick, he's supposed to be hunting those rare books and doing the Chuck Dance when something goes wrong.
Safe bet that I'm going to have a lot more to reflect on about my dad but I wanted to leave an update for all the people who have been asking. He's a great man, he's my role model and best man in the world and so much of what I like about myself came from my dad.
But at least he's home and he's breathing like he hasn't in months. That's a good thing.
I just wish I was emotionally stronger.
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