A few days with Dad.

I keep trying to figure out what to write. I must say, though, that writing about all that's going on with my Dad seems to be the logical starting point.

We are at Day Five since Dad went to the Hospital last week. I have finally gotten the attention of the local Hospice people and I must say, they have been good, but almost killing us with kindness!

Today, I had a Social Worker nurse type stop by to check things out, and a Licensed Practical Nurse (LPN)

The LPNs goal or job was to give Dad a bath. Dad would have none of it. I was thinking I was some what horny and nearly asked her to bathe me! Or, how about a nice hand job? That would be nice. I could use a nice slimy hand job with a kiss on top!
HA HA HA! Oh, my. I crack myself up today!


Back to what seems to be the main topic here... Dad is dying.

Last week, I took Dad to his annual doctor appointment. A new doctor for him -- Dr. Little.
This was last Thursday afternoon - October 16th. He was so weak when we got there. I helped him with a wheel chair to go inside.

Once in the examining room, it turns out his blood pressure was WAY low! Like 80/20!
So, this made him exceptionally weaker than usual. Although he is weak all the time.

The main event was drawing blood and checking his prostate.

So, I went home with a borrowed wheel chair. Poured Dad into bed. Freshened up his water glass and had to run some errands.

While I was out, the doctor called to say that Dad had a very, very, very -- THREE "very's" --high white blood cell count. He said it meant one of two things: Infection somewhere OR Leukemia.

So, I come home, and called 911 to pick him up and take him to the hospital.

The doctor felt so strongly about this he had already made the arrangements there.

Anyway, an ambulance comes, takes Dad over there, and I follow.

The Hospital is Cone Memorial Hospital. This the place where, what in my jaded opinion is where the riff raff goes. The people without health insurance, the indigent, the homeless and the Medicaid folks congregate.

This night, apparently there had been a "situation" somewhere in town. Some gang activity had caused a lock down in ALL local hospitals about the same time Dad arrived.

No one in. No one out. "Lock down" as one of Greensboro's finest explained.

This gave me an opportunity to fume and gnaw on the bone of resentment for a while.
Eventually, after less than an hour, I could go back to see Dad.

They had him in an ER examining room with oxygen, and a couple of tubes, etc...

Just like on TV!

I must have stayed there maybe a couple of hours waiting for him to be admitted.

First, an Phelbotomist came in to draw more blood. It seems as though in order to find out the root of this High White Blood Cell Count Mystery, they needed "blood cultures".

So, this was Thursday evening and they are saying it will take about 72 hours for them to grow and tell us something.

Great, I am thinking, we can go once this vampire leaves the room.

Then an on call doctor came in and gave us two choices.

Stay and wait for said cultures OR leave the next day. BUT, he stressed, how much more at risk Dad would be by leaving early -- like WE wanted to.

He seemed adamant that Dad spend several days there.

WE -- Dad and me, were adamant that wasn't going to happen.

He said, if we don't, Dad could die.
Let's ponder that one.

DAD COULD DIE!

Hey! Hello! Dad IS dying!

He recommended Dad stay over night to stabilize his blood pressure and then, make a plan.

He told Dad to his face if he doesn't stay for a few days it "could result in a less than satisfactory outcome" -- what ever the hell that means.

Anyway, Dad didn't really understand what he said because Dad does, after all, have 80/20 BP, is barely conscious anyway.

All Dad could say was " Gary, when can I go home?"

I left about 10pm. Came back the next morning about 10 am and was ready to take Dad home.

Dad was ready too. Overnight, he had managed to pull all his IVs out, and I later learned he called out for me all night over and over.

I was glad to get him home. He was too.


The staff on the floor were anxious to see him go too except this shift doctor, seemed upset we didn't want to stay there and wait for results and then attack this alleged infection with zeal.

Anyway, Dad and I drove home Friday afternoon, I once again, put Dad to bed and he proceed to sleep 36 hours straight!

The weekend was uneventful.

I had a Hospice Nurse come by Saturday and help me get dialed into the Hospice Support System. Her assessment was that Dad has: "An inability to thrive with a co-morbidity of renal failure".

This means he is dying, right?

On Monday, with baited breath, I waited to find out the results of these "blood cultures".

Well, it turns out they don't know anymore now than they did last Friday.

Doctor Little calls and says they still can't figure out where an infection could be.
Nothing in his urinary tract, nothing in his blood, nothing in his lungs.

And, it "doesn't look like Leukemia..." what ever that means.

Doesn't LOOK like Leukemia!

What galled me was Dr. Little seemed to think I should take Dad back to the hospital just so we can find out about this pesky infection.

He seemed miffed we, Dad, Me and my sister Linda, did not want to "aggressively find out about this alleged infection.

Right now, Dad is sleeping. It's Tuesday evening. He is not in pain. God is with him.

His days are limited.

Earlier today, when the Social Worker and the LPN were here, he was talking about the "party" party we had here last night.

In the past he has commented on "just getting back from the mountains" or once or twice from the beach.

My prayer is he will pass in his sleep.

Soon.