WebKittyn Warbles
Thursday, May 31, 2007
Seems I Came Home Too Soon
I'm not posting this looking for compassion, I'm debating whether I want to turn the comments off or not. I hate that this place has become a place where I think about having to watch what I say because crazy women just won't go away and people read things in posts that aren't there.
Screw it. Hey world? Bugger off. This is my warbles. I need to get this stuff out of my head and if people are low enough to make fodder of this what can I say. It's a sick world.
Things aren't well with my father. My mother is on vacation this week, she schedule a grand vacation week of one doctor appointment after another for my dad. Eye doctor, heart doctor, lung doctor, general doctor, hospital for scans and so on. The GP was the one who caught the lung problem the first time and put him in the hospital, he's a really good doctor.
He was the one I was worried about, I thought for sure my dad would be going back in the hospital. He still can't breathe as well as he should be, even with the oxygen. He walks from the house to the car (maybe a couple hundred feet) and he's all panting like he's going to pass out. That was how he was when they put him in the first time.
The day I left I was sitting in the den talking to him and out of nowhere he tells me he's not going to be around forever. Then he tells me he hasn't gotten 'any better' in the five months I was up there. Now I know older people tend to do shit like that but in his case, he really HADN'T gotten any better while I was up there, it only got harder for him to breathe. Freaked me out, freaked me out hard.
The doctor results had been fine up till today. The pacemaker was working. They got him off the Avandia. He lost 6 pounds since his last visit. The blood tests showed nothing out of the ordinary. The pee test was fine. Blood sugar level high but acceptable for a diabetic. No sign of glaucoma or any eye problems. Check check check.
Then the lung doctor called.
When he last went in November and they did the scan, there was some concern over lymph nodes on the lung (he only has one lung that works) but not enough to merit further action. They told him to come back in May for another scan and they'd see if the nodes had grown.
Apparently one has. Just one but it's grown enough for there to be concern.
He has another appointment with the lung doctor tomorrow to discuss whether or not to biopsy. A biopsy becomes a whole different thing when it's a 75 year old diabetic with a pacemaker who already had one small stroke. And not only a biopsy, a biopsy involving the lung.
My mother (as she was explaining all of this to me) then tells me he's not sure he wants to know. I'm not sure how I feel about that but it's not my choice and that kills me. It's like he's writing himself off already saying he doesn't want to know. He says he's too old for chemo or cancer treatment and he'd just rather take what he's got left so he's not sure he wants to know. I, of course, say don't close the door on life at 75 and it's better to know.
But shit, a lung biopsy involves anesthesia and he's not supposed to have that. So it's as much a risk to do the biopsy as it is to leave it.
Well damn.
I wish I was still up there but at least down here I can cry a lot and loudly and not upset him or my mother. The cat doesn't seem to mind.
Needless to say, I'm not alright. I'm trying not to see the glass as 100% half empty and failing miserably. I'd like to fast-forward to tomorrow and at least have some answers.
Tonight is the Blue Moon, think I'll do some serious candle burning.
I need my dad to be alright, I'm not ready to lose him yet. I'll never be ready but I'm really not ready. So if the Lady Fate is listening, cut me a break here please.
I'm feeling a bit numb right now, out of tears for the moment and just wanting to go curl up in bed with Tempy and pretend all is well until I fall asleep. I feel sick.
I really need him to be alright. I really need my dad. Even now, even still, even as old as I am, I'll go to my grave as daddy's little girl.
The glass is half full. The glass is half full. The glass is half full.
Screw it. Hey world? Bugger off. This is my warbles. I need to get this stuff out of my head and if people are low enough to make fodder of this what can I say. It's a sick world.
Things aren't well with my father. My mother is on vacation this week, she schedule a grand vacation week of one doctor appointment after another for my dad. Eye doctor, heart doctor, lung doctor, general doctor, hospital for scans and so on. The GP was the one who caught the lung problem the first time and put him in the hospital, he's a really good doctor.
He was the one I was worried about, I thought for sure my dad would be going back in the hospital. He still can't breathe as well as he should be, even with the oxygen. He walks from the house to the car (maybe a couple hundred feet) and he's all panting like he's going to pass out. That was how he was when they put him in the first time.
The day I left I was sitting in the den talking to him and out of nowhere he tells me he's not going to be around forever. Then he tells me he hasn't gotten 'any better' in the five months I was up there. Now I know older people tend to do shit like that but in his case, he really HADN'T gotten any better while I was up there, it only got harder for him to breathe. Freaked me out, freaked me out hard.
The doctor results had been fine up till today. The pacemaker was working. They got him off the Avandia. He lost 6 pounds since his last visit. The blood tests showed nothing out of the ordinary. The pee test was fine. Blood sugar level high but acceptable for a diabetic. No sign of glaucoma or any eye problems. Check check check.
Then the lung doctor called.
When he last went in November and they did the scan, there was some concern over lymph nodes on the lung (he only has one lung that works) but not enough to merit further action. They told him to come back in May for another scan and they'd see if the nodes had grown.
Apparently one has. Just one but it's grown enough for there to be concern.
He has another appointment with the lung doctor tomorrow to discuss whether or not to biopsy. A biopsy becomes a whole different thing when it's a 75 year old diabetic with a pacemaker who already had one small stroke. And not only a biopsy, a biopsy involving the lung.
My mother (as she was explaining all of this to me) then tells me he's not sure he wants to know. I'm not sure how I feel about that but it's not my choice and that kills me. It's like he's writing himself off already saying he doesn't want to know. He says he's too old for chemo or cancer treatment and he'd just rather take what he's got left so he's not sure he wants to know. I, of course, say don't close the door on life at 75 and it's better to know.
But shit, a lung biopsy involves anesthesia and he's not supposed to have that. So it's as much a risk to do the biopsy as it is to leave it.
Well damn.
I wish I was still up there but at least down here I can cry a lot and loudly and not upset him or my mother. The cat doesn't seem to mind.
Needless to say, I'm not alright. I'm trying not to see the glass as 100% half empty and failing miserably. I'd like to fast-forward to tomorrow and at least have some answers.
Tonight is the Blue Moon, think I'll do some serious candle burning.
I need my dad to be alright, I'm not ready to lose him yet. I'll never be ready but I'm really not ready. So if the Lady Fate is listening, cut me a break here please.
I'm feeling a bit numb right now, out of tears for the moment and just wanting to go curl up in bed with Tempy and pretend all is well until I fall asleep. I feel sick.
I really need him to be alright. I really need my dad. Even now, even still, even as old as I am, I'll go to my grave as daddy's little girl.
The glass is half full. The glass is half full. The glass is half full.
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