Tuesday, February 2, 2010

Another Day, Another Hospital

As I suspected, my dad's condition could not be sustained for long without another trip to the hospital. My effort to get an appointment (outpatient) with a cardiologist, arranged by his doctor, didn't have satisfactory results; the first appointment we could get was for next Weds. I knew that wouldn't be good enough.
So when the caregiver called me this afternoon at 2, and said he was having trouble breathing, I knew this would probably call for another stay in the hospital.
When I got there, he was again white and immovable. I knew he wouldn't be able to walk, so I told the caregiver to call the ambulance, and on their advice, we went to the closest hospital, one where we had not been before. It turned out to be very nice, quite civilized, and much more comfortable than UCI, at least in the emergency room.
While in UCI, the tvs and remotes are scratched up and destroyed, unworkable, these worked perfectly. Parking was simple, and there were even people guiding drivers into spots that were safe and legal. And best, it was quite close to home.
While we were in the e.r., and the nurse and I were trying to get his pants off, he almost stopped breathing. It seems the problems he had in UCI when he was there two weeks ago were all back in force: the kidney failure, the elevated potassium, the retained fluid, and even the bladder infection. The doctors still face the same problem: treat one organ and risk shutting down the other. It is probable that this will kill him. I just hope it isn't a long, lingering, and painful death. If he can get a few more months or a year without too much discomfort, that would be nice. We'll have to take what we get. I guess we all do.

6 comments:

liz said...

"take what we get" and mirror the
sang-froid of savasana?
I truly hope your Dad can squeeze some more happy moments out of what's left of the lemons...
my apologies all you poets reading this and wincing ;)

Robbi said...

Thank you Liz. There are no words, really, for this sort of thing anyhow.

Robin said...

I'm sorry that your father is going through this. Like you, I hope and pray his passage through this final stage in life is gentle, and that he has more comfortable and hopefully lucid days and months. You, your father, your mother and your whole family are in my thoughts and prayers.

Robbi said...

Thanks Robin. That means a lot.

marly said...

Robbi,

There's nothing more to say than what I've already said via email, but I am still remembering you and yours.

* * *

"In a dream you are never eighty." --Anne Sexton

Robbi said...

Thanks Marly. I am blessed to have good friends.