Another Week

My dad recovered quickly from pneumonia and was discharged from the hospital. What a relief. My life could get back to normal. My mom would be at her house instead of mine and I would have my freedom back. I would be able to sleep through the night without anyone trying to climb in bed with me. There would be no repetitive re-orienting. And, instead of getting up early everyday and rushing to the hospital before work, I would be able to sleep in and read the newspaper. Life was good again.

On my first morning of freedom, I woke to the phone ringing. It was mom. She was crying. Dad had been rushed to the hospital again. The ER people wouldn't let her see him, so she drove home and called me. I got dressed, picked up mom and drove to the hospital. We got there just as they were taking him to CCU.

He had been intubated and was breathing on a vent. One of his lungs had collapsed, so there was a chest tube, along with an assortment of other tubes. He was in a drug induced coma. We spent some time with him, but there was nothing we could do. He had no awareness we were there, so we left.

We hadn't eaten anything that day, so we went out for lunch. There were some errands that needed to be run, so we took care of that. I took mom and her dogs home with me. I was sick with worry about dad, but I had no choice but to carry on. Later that evening, mom smiled and said, "This has been such a fun day. " Mom may be confused at times, but at least she is pleasantly confused.

After two days, dad was taken off the vent and was doing well. He was irritable, difficult and demanding and I was glad. That meant the fire was back and he was doing better. He wanted food, but they wouldn't let him have anything by mouth. They were feeding him through a tube going down to his stomach, but he was hungry and wanted food.

I did a swallow test on him and he passed, so I fed him. He ate two slices of bread and some chocolates. Right before leaving, I gave him a sip of water. The nurse walked in and caught me holding the cup to dad's mouth. The nurse was enraged. I fought back. The argument ended with me walking out of the room. If the nurse was that mad over a sip of water, I wonder what he would have done if he had caught my father eating real food?

The next day, dad was transferred to a regular room. My brother visited and brought food from In-N-Out Burger. Dad ate two burgers, two milkshakes and some fries. But, Dad still wasn't allowed to eat under the hospital rules.

I expressed my concern to his next nurse that I either wanted my father to be given a diet or I wanted them to prove that he was unable to swallow. A swallow test was ordered, but couldn't be done for a couple of days. I was unhappy with that because I knew that dad could swallow just fine and I didn't want to to suffer for no good reason. I worked out a deal with the nurse that I would close the door to dad's room and he would not come in. Dad could eat a good meal and the nurse could pretend that he knew nothing about it. It has been an entire week now and that is where we currently stand.

In the meantime, mom suddenly announced that she wanted to go home. I tried to talk her into staying, but she wanted to go home. I try hard to be patient with mom, but I'm worried that she may be sensing my fatigue and frustration. I took mom home.

This evening, I turned on the TV and there was nothing but static. I tried everything I could think of, but I can't fix it. Out of curiosity, I tried the TV in the guest room. It was broken too. The only TV that still works is the one in my room. Thank goodness mom left that one alone. I suspect that the reason mom wanted to go home was because she knew that she had broken both TVs. I am so worn out.