I took mom to visit dad today at the hospital, after speaking with his doctor yesterday afternoon. When I got there, the doctor was in his room. The doctors are so young they look like Doogy Hauser, but they are really good, open, willing to listen, and not arrogant at all.
The doctor said he had been trying to call me, but I don't answer my cell phone while I'm driving, as I have no Bluetooth (the phone isn't capable of it--it's kind of primative for a cellphone). I probably wouldn't answer it even if I had an earpiece as it is too distracting for someone who is rather nervous about driving anyhow. Anyhow, the doctor said that my dad had a kind of a cardiac episode at 5 this morning. He hesitated to call it a heart attack, but that's what it was like, a very small one.
When we got to the room, my dad was sleeping, and the nurse said he had been sleeping all day, not like yesterday when he was walking around, laughing, raring to go. She was concerned, as was the doctor.
It made me feel that he might just not be coming home this time. Or very soon.
On the way home from the visit, I was thinking about whether I was ready to handle his death, just the logistics of it... contacting the mortuary, the rabbi, finding the money to pay for the funeral. Jewish people must be buried within a day of their deaths, unless this occurs on Shabbat (Friday night to Saturday night) or on a major Jewish holiday. And though Jewish burials are supposed to be simple (no embalming or fancy coffins), they cost bigtime. And my father has said he wants a Jewish funeral. Technically speaking, Jewish people are not supposed to be cremated, though they are cremated all the time--particularly when this is all they can afford.
And that's when the check engine light came on in my car. It is the third time this has happened in a couple of months. The first I found out there was a tear in the pressure seal of the gas cap. The second time the gas cap was missing altogether. Don't know how that happened. The third time was today. No one was there capable of diagnosing the car, so I had to leave it till Friday sometime.
Richard rescued us and drove mom home. We then went out to eat dim sum and soup, where the ducks and chickens skewered on the rotisserie reminded me of chorus girls (sans tete).
Wednesday, December 31, 2008
Progress?
My dad is still in the hospital. He is feeling well, walking, and impatient to come home. However, his doctor says his blood still shows sign of infection, and so do his lungs. They now do not think he had a stroke, but what else would explain the symptoms he had? I disagree, but it doesn't matter. Today I will have to tell him what the doctors told me, if they don't do it themselves.
Tuesday, December 30, 2008
Hard Day
Yesterday I planned to go to morning yoga class, as usual, but before I went, I called my parents' doctor to make an appointment with her. Then I called my dad's room and talked to Susie, the caregiver. She told me to cancel the appointment for my dad because he needed to go to the hospital, so Richard took my mom to her appointment while I sat in the same hospital emergency room with my dad.
Luckily, the emergency room was empty when we came, a first. My dad got taken right away, and admitted pretty much immediately, but there was no room in the hospital proper, so we stayed in the emergency room area until a room should come up (it didn't, though we were there from 7:30-5 PM. The nurse said she'd have him put into a hospital bed if nothing came through.
Seems that my dad woke up early in the morning in terrible pain. Probably it was a blood clot in his leg, where it attaches to the hip. He couldn't walk, his speech was slurred, and he couldn't see either. Susie wanted to call the ambulence, but he wouldn't let her. He didn't want to go to the nearby Memorial Hospital, but to have me take him to UCIMC. But Susie had the notion that he didn't want me to be called either, though he denies this is what he meant.
Anyhow, when I asked, Susie said to take him to the hospital, which I did. He was limp as a noodle and didn't talk at all until we got to the hospital. I pulled right up outside with my handicapped sticker, and somehow I got him up the ramp.Most of the day he slept. I had to feed him, but he really couldn't eat much, a first for him. But by the evening, he was his old self, sly and manipulative. He wouldn't say whether he wanted heroic measures taken, should something go awry, but put the decision squarely on me, where he always puts it.
I think he'll be okay this time. But it was scary.
Luckily, the emergency room was empty when we came, a first. My dad got taken right away, and admitted pretty much immediately, but there was no room in the hospital proper, so we stayed in the emergency room area until a room should come up (it didn't, though we were there from 7:30-5 PM. The nurse said she'd have him put into a hospital bed if nothing came through.
Seems that my dad woke up early in the morning in terrible pain. Probably it was a blood clot in his leg, where it attaches to the hip. He couldn't walk, his speech was slurred, and he couldn't see either. Susie wanted to call the ambulence, but he wouldn't let her. He didn't want to go to the nearby Memorial Hospital, but to have me take him to UCIMC. But Susie had the notion that he didn't want me to be called either, though he denies this is what he meant.
Anyhow, when I asked, Susie said to take him to the hospital, which I did. He was limp as a noodle and didn't talk at all until we got to the hospital. I pulled right up outside with my handicapped sticker, and somehow I got him up the ramp.Most of the day he slept. I had to feed him, but he really couldn't eat much, a first for him. But by the evening, he was his old self, sly and manipulative. He wouldn't say whether he wanted heroic measures taken, should something go awry, but put the decision squarely on me, where he always puts it.
I think he'll be okay this time. But it was scary.
Saturday, December 27, 2008
Dinner with Mish and Lydia
We didn't go eat at Inka Mama's last night. Instead, my father favored Persian food. He has only had it once or twice, but the prospect of beautiful kebabs and flavorful mounds of saffron rice sounded good to him, so despite the fact that Jeremy hates Persian food ( we had initially thought he would be working anyhow), we went there. The fact that it was less than 3 miles from their house also contributed to the choice of this place, and also the fact that Monster Munching had enthused over the quality of the food at this small, family owned place in Lake Forest.
It didn't start off well. Mom was not feeling well. She had caught the cold and cough we all have been passing around to each other. But the caregiver talked her into going. The thing about her memory is that a few minutes after you ask her, she is ready to be asked again, and this time you might get a different answer.
But she finally agreed, and I handed her a small bouquet of yellow roses and a box of truffles. Mom doesn't eat much these days, but she's a sucker for chocolate, so those were welcome. She, in turn, gave me the gloves that my dad bought for her. They are buttery soft black leather, with a warm lining, very welcome in this uncommonly cold weather. But she wouldn't wear them. Instead she dropped them into the black hole at the bottom of the closet. I didn't have warm gloves, so I told my dad that if she wouldn't wear them, I would! She wanted me to have them, and I put them on immediately.
We found the restaurant easily, and in a few minutes were seated in the cramped space, in a strip mall notable for its diverse ethnicities of restaurant--sushi, Indian, and Persian all within the same little space of half a block. I ordered for everyone, since I know more about Persian food than anyone else. I got soup for everyone but me. I knew that my father and Richard love lentils, and that mom is always cold. I don't like lentils, generally, so I ordered a shirazi salad for myself.
A shirazi is a lovely salad, composed of crisp peeled shards of Persian cucumbers, niblets of red onion, and fresh diced tomato. All of this is topped with a Persian spice called Sumac, and a squeeze of sweet lemon (such as Meyer) and olive oil. The shirazi at this restaurant was extremely bright and lively in taste, possibly the best I have ever had.
Meanwhile, everyone but mom enthused about the soup. Her tastebuds have gone awry, and so she found the soup inedible, much too salty. She pushed the bowl away, so I took it, and shared my salad around with everyone (except mom, who won't eat salad now). A few minutes later, she was looking at me with hurt eyes, asking, "Why don't I get soup?" By then, the soup was gone. It was good, despite the lentils, not salty at all.
Then two great platters of rice and kebabs arrived. We ordered a rice dish full of tomatoes, green beans, and pulverized beef. I don't usually eat beef because of the cholesterol and because I am unused to it now. It is tremendously heavy and doesn't taste right to me anymore. But the rice was delicious. On the side was a long beautifully spiced kebab of soft ground chicken. My parents were to share a mound of cherry rice (sour cherries in saffron rice) and a long long skewer of filet mignon with green peppers and onions, very tender and again, beautifully spiced.
My mom tried a bit of everything on her small plate, but besides squares of flatbread smeared with sweet butter (squares of bread which she initially took for paper), she wouldn't really eat anything, but looked at us hungrily. I guess Persian isn't her cup of tea, though the drinkable tea she was given was deemed acceptable (a rarity for her).
We didn't get any dessert, but instead hustled back into the cold cold car and headed back to the board and care. It was still early for us, but nearly time for the folks to turn in. My dad called an hour later to thank us for the beautiful dinner, flowers, and candy. I'm sure my mom had a boiled egg before she went to bed. She was certainly still hungry.
It didn't start off well. Mom was not feeling well. She had caught the cold and cough we all have been passing around to each other. But the caregiver talked her into going. The thing about her memory is that a few minutes after you ask her, she is ready to be asked again, and this time you might get a different answer.
But she finally agreed, and I handed her a small bouquet of yellow roses and a box of truffles. Mom doesn't eat much these days, but she's a sucker for chocolate, so those were welcome. She, in turn, gave me the gloves that my dad bought for her. They are buttery soft black leather, with a warm lining, very welcome in this uncommonly cold weather. But she wouldn't wear them. Instead she dropped them into the black hole at the bottom of the closet. I didn't have warm gloves, so I told my dad that if she wouldn't wear them, I would! She wanted me to have them, and I put them on immediately.
We found the restaurant easily, and in a few minutes were seated in the cramped space, in a strip mall notable for its diverse ethnicities of restaurant--sushi, Indian, and Persian all within the same little space of half a block. I ordered for everyone, since I know more about Persian food than anyone else. I got soup for everyone but me. I knew that my father and Richard love lentils, and that mom is always cold. I don't like lentils, generally, so I ordered a shirazi salad for myself.
A shirazi is a lovely salad, composed of crisp peeled shards of Persian cucumbers, niblets of red onion, and fresh diced tomato. All of this is topped with a Persian spice called Sumac, and a squeeze of sweet lemon (such as Meyer) and olive oil. The shirazi at this restaurant was extremely bright and lively in taste, possibly the best I have ever had.
Meanwhile, everyone but mom enthused about the soup. Her tastebuds have gone awry, and so she found the soup inedible, much too salty. She pushed the bowl away, so I took it, and shared my salad around with everyone (except mom, who won't eat salad now). A few minutes later, she was looking at me with hurt eyes, asking, "Why don't I get soup?" By then, the soup was gone. It was good, despite the lentils, not salty at all.
Then two great platters of rice and kebabs arrived. We ordered a rice dish full of tomatoes, green beans, and pulverized beef. I don't usually eat beef because of the cholesterol and because I am unused to it now. It is tremendously heavy and doesn't taste right to me anymore. But the rice was delicious. On the side was a long beautifully spiced kebab of soft ground chicken. My parents were to share a mound of cherry rice (sour cherries in saffron rice) and a long long skewer of filet mignon with green peppers and onions, very tender and again, beautifully spiced.
My mom tried a bit of everything on her small plate, but besides squares of flatbread smeared with sweet butter (squares of bread which she initially took for paper), she wouldn't really eat anything, but looked at us hungrily. I guess Persian isn't her cup of tea, though the drinkable tea she was given was deemed acceptable (a rarity for her).
We didn't get any dessert, but instead hustled back into the cold cold car and headed back to the board and care. It was still early for us, but nearly time for the folks to turn in. My dad called an hour later to thank us for the beautiful dinner, flowers, and candy. I'm sure my mom had a boiled egg before she went to bed. She was certainly still hungry.
Friday, December 26, 2008
Boxing Day
Today is the day for after-Christmas sales, but I have no desire (and no money) to shop. It is true I might stop off at Borders, but only to check on their supposed sale on cookbooks. But the truth is, I have nowhere to put more stuff.
I will go to yoga today, then come home and do some tasks, such as working on my syllabi for next semester and reading a friend's manuscript. Then my family and I will take my parents out for their anniversary. We have lost count as to how many anniversaries they have had at this point. I think it is something over 60. Their anniversary was actually yesterday, but we decided that more restaurants would be open today. Plus, yesterday we were having dinner with good friends in Laguna Beach (thanks Robin and Manny for the wonderful feast and good company!). It was cold outside, but warm inside, with a company full of convivial conversation and good feelings.
Today we will probably go to Inka Mama for Peruvian food. My parents like that place, and it is fairly close to their home.
I will go to yoga today, then come home and do some tasks, such as working on my syllabi for next semester and reading a friend's manuscript. Then my family and I will take my parents out for their anniversary. We have lost count as to how many anniversaries they have had at this point. I think it is something over 60. Their anniversary was actually yesterday, but we decided that more restaurants would be open today. Plus, yesterday we were having dinner with good friends in Laguna Beach (thanks Robin and Manny for the wonderful feast and good company!). It was cold outside, but warm inside, with a company full of convivial conversation and good feelings.
Today we will probably go to Inka Mama for Peruvian food. My parents like that place, and it is fairly close to their home.
Wednesday, December 24, 2008
Dedicated to Difference
I heard a radio commentator today try to shoehorn Chanukah in with Christmas by saying something like "I wish you and your children the values represented by the holiday you celebrate." I wondered then. Everyone knows the values Christmas represents because there are songs galore we all know that enshrine them-- good will to men, etc. So what ARE the values Chanukah represents? I guess I know that, but don't say it so much.
Chanukah has come to mean, ironically, keeping up the with Smiths, because you don't want to feel left out or let your kids feel left out. This is ironic mostly because what Chanukah REALLY represents is that one needs to embrace his own difference.
The word "Chanukah" means "dedication," and it commemorates the amazing military victory of a small group of ragged rebels, the Macabees, against the mighty army of Syrian Hellanists arrayed against them, soldiers of King Antiochus, a convert to the Greek worship of the gods of Olympus.
We all know that there's no one more zealous than a convert, so Antiochus decreed that the Jews had to convert too, or die. So he forced them to do that. And some went along willingly, even doing everything they could to erase the difference embodied in their flesh, undergoing painful operations to undo or disguise their circumcisions.
But the Macabees defied that, and that's what the holiday represents now, something we need to remember when people have turned against the right of gay people to marry, for example. People need to flaunt their difference, to celebrate it in the face of overwhelming odds. To be proud of it.
And that's a value that we don't hear out there very often.
Chanukah has come to mean, ironically, keeping up the with Smiths, because you don't want to feel left out or let your kids feel left out. This is ironic mostly because what Chanukah REALLY represents is that one needs to embrace his own difference.
The word "Chanukah" means "dedication," and it commemorates the amazing military victory of a small group of ragged rebels, the Macabees, against the mighty army of Syrian Hellanists arrayed against them, soldiers of King Antiochus, a convert to the Greek worship of the gods of Olympus.
We all know that there's no one more zealous than a convert, so Antiochus decreed that the Jews had to convert too, or die. So he forced them to do that. And some went along willingly, even doing everything they could to erase the difference embodied in their flesh, undergoing painful operations to undo or disguise their circumcisions.
But the Macabees defied that, and that's what the holiday represents now, something we need to remember when people have turned against the right of gay people to marry, for example. People need to flaunt their difference, to celebrate it in the face of overwhelming odds. To be proud of it.
And that's a value that we don't hear out there very often.
Sicko
Since I started doing so much yoga (every day or at least 5 times per week, depending on schedule) I have been much healthier and stronger. But today the fatigue of the holiday season finally caught up to me and I am not feeling very well. In fact, I fell asleep at 7:30 last night and could barely drag myself out of bed at 7:30 this morning. Of course, I was up several times during the night, thirsty and with a sore throat. My eyes look like I have been out on a real bender, although of course I haven't. I'll skip yoga this morning and hope I get over this and that someone steps up to take my dad to the VA this afternoon so he can see the doctor. I've caught his awful cold that I'm afraid in his case is becoming something worse.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)