Hail to the Redskins

We decided to get out of the house to treat ourselves. Really you should see it.  Awesome flick. Better than Iron Man. 

Heath Ledger is of course tragically fantastic and gives a performance that we'll never see again.  Which is a shame because I would have loved to see more more more.  Don't expect to see too much of him in the first third of the movie as they build up suspense; but never fear you'll get plenty of him later on.  Dent was great.  The chick was a significant upgrade.  Alfred and Fox and Gordon were awesome as expected.  Bale as batman was just as good as he was the first time around.

Fantastic movie with all the different factions who are more or less played reasonably intelligently (albeit some are psychotic obviously).  The plot was reasonably sound, though not all the technology was. But hell, this is Batman so what do you expect?  I'm impressed that they allowed this movie to have a PG13 rating instead of an R. I would not let small kids watch this film.  

One nice surprise twist that you don't see coming.  One nice twist that most people probably know is coming by virtue of the comics is done very well also.  Having more than one villain is definitely much better, even if only for a cameo. 
 
I won't say more since I don't want to spoil it. Much as I love Jack Nicholson's Joker, Heath Ledger blows him out of the water. It's not even close.  

 Last friday night, my Father was brought to me in a small box.

A very nice, dignified, respectful man came by and talked to me at length, explaining everything to me, but mostly he just brought my Dad back to me in a box.  It was a lot smaller and lighter than I thought it would be.  He weighed about 180, and even given the fact that he probably lost some weight towards the end, he had to be 160.  Now he weighs less than a gallon of milk and would fit into a shoebox.  Maybe burial would have been better, I dunno.  We still haven't decided what we're ultimately going to do with the ashes.  We're going to have a ceremony sometime when we're ready, but after that we still don't know.  Arlington cemetary is apparently an option, since my Dad was a vet.  My Mom may want to keep him closer to home as well. I just don't know. For now I have him.

I feel good about the place we chose.  I trust them and there's a non-profit organization that acts as a watchdog to funeral homes and crematories that rated them very very highly.  Even if they hadn't recommended them, I would be happy. They asked all the right questions.  They wanted recent photos to help make sure there was no mixup at the morgue. They took serious care to keep the chain of custody intact so that I can feel secure that this is, in fact, my Dad's ashes.  I always heard horror stories about how some places just stick random ashes in and don't care much about who gets what.  This place takes its job seriously.

Now that I have the Death Certificates I can start calling his life insurance people and credit cards and getting the paperwork started. I'm going to have to go delving into my father's papers sometime, probably this week, because there's some papers we don't have that we will need.  But I'm not ready for that yet. 

My Mom has been slowly getting better.  She has been keeping herself busy and got her hair done and has gone shopping a few times.  I didn't want to, but I told her that I had Dad.  I knew it was too early for her, but I told her anyway.  She seemed puzzled at first but then when it sank in what I was saying she just was destroyed all over again.  It broke my heart and she just couldn't stop sobbing.  I had to tell her sooner or later, but it still kills me to be the source of such pain for her.  Syndee's taking this all pretty hard as well.  She really cared for him and now it's her turn to feel helpless to do anything for me. 

They gave us this tree seedling to bury in my Dad's name.  I need to do that soon or it will go bad.  My Mom doesn't want anything to do with it and I'm not sure where I can put it, since my lawn is only slightly bigger than the box my Dad's in.  If anyone wants a nice tree planted let me know.  It needs to be done soon I'm told. 

I still can't believe he's gone.  I feel like I can pick up the phone and call him, or that I can go to the hospital and go visit him.  I can't get my mind around the idea that he's not here anymore.  It sounds so stupid and you hear people say it all the time, but you don't really understand what they're saying until it happens to you.  He was one of the three biggest people in my life, and he's gone.  He was my rock that was always there for us.  He'd do anything for us and he did.  He was the best of us.  My Mom's crazy and I'm a lazy fuckup, but he was always there, working hard and making sure everyone was taken care of. 

And now he's gathering dust on my shelf.  I'm so sorry Dad.  You deserve better. 

 I'm not really ready to write about it, but at the same time I want to write before the memories start to fade. So here goes.

It all comes back to the fucking holidays.  I had joked on thursday night that I would be spending the 4th of July hiding in my basement, because it seems like there was always some crisis going on every holiday.  I was joking; I didn't really expect anything to happen. 

Around 9am on the 4th of July, I got a call from the Hospital. The doctor was on the phone.  He said that my Dad had "a rough night."  He said that his blood pressure had dropped and that he was having trouble breathing so they might have to put him on a ventilator.  I still didn't really get any alarm bells from this.  He had been in pretty dire shape the week before, but he seemed to be improving overall.  The nurses were no longer giving me those *looks* and making those comments about how he lived a nice long life.  So he was having a rough day. No big deal, right?

An hour later I check back and the Nurse taught me two words that you don't ever want to hear when you have a loved one in the hospital: Family Meeting.  The doctor wanted to call a family meeting.  Nothing good can come out of a Family Meeting called by a Doctor.

We all scrambled to get there as quickly as possible and the doctor came in right away (also never a good sign) and told us that my Dad was going to die.  It took him a few minutes to work up to it, but that's pretty much what he said.  The words "no hope" were used.   At this stage, we were still talking about an event that was probably days or even weeks or months away.  They were already giving him every medicine they could to assist his heart rate and blood pressure and it was still a losing battle. The sepsis was winning.  The antibiotics had come too late.

The first thing I did was check with his cardiologist.  Not only did I trust him more (he was our regular doctor and we have a history with him), but it always seems sensible to get a second opinion.  It also always seems sensible to get an opinion from someone who doesn't have a vested interest in freeing the room up to help with the backlog of patients waiting for a room.  Unfortunately the Cardiologist was very nice and sincere and very much in agreement with the ICU doctor.  My Dad was going to die.  He thought it might be weeks or even months but he said people in my Dad's health simply don't recover.  Again "no hope" was used.  This was around mid-afternoon.

I spent most of the day with Syndee, my Mom, and my Dad. After a while Syndee got sick and had to go home so I took her home and went back to spend time with my Mom.  Our Cardiologist seemed to think that my Dad wasn't going to die anytime soon (he had seen him at 8 in the morning so apparently it was before my Dad got worse) so he encouraged me to get my Mom to go home and get some rest.

I was about to persuade my Mom to let me take her home to rest when the Nurse came in and looked at both of us and said "You're not leaving are you?"  When I asked why, she told me that my Dad was almost certainly going to die and that it would probably happen that very evening.  We turned around, sat back down, and hunkered down for the long haul. 

I was skeptical of the nurse at first, because the cardiologist had encouraged us to go home, but then she went off duty and the next nurse on shift came in.  This nurse also said the same thing.  My Dad would die this evening.  She said she could tell because of the way that his heart rate was looking on the machine. My Mom pointed out to me that the nurses here probably have a lot more experience with actually being present when the patient dies than a doctor does.  This was not a pleasant thought.

My Dad never regained consciousness throughout the whole experience.  He sometimes seemed to respond on a subconscious level when we talked to him.  He'd squeeze our hand.  Very rarely he would lift his head up and sort of look at us through heavy-lidded and unfocused eyes.  He never said a word to us.  The last thing he said was on Thursday night, just before I left.  He asked me "Guy, can you get me out of here?"  He wanted to go home.  I told him he needed to rest and get stronger.  He never did and he never said anything else to me ever again.  It breaks my heart that I couldn't get him out of there.

So we settled in and sat there and watched as the life slowly drained from my Dad.  We had his defibrillator shut off because if his heart became irregular it would just start shocking him and put him in constant pain.  It doesn't make any sense to put him through that when there's no hope of recovery and thank God he had been very lucid and clear about what he wanted when we filled out an advanced directive last month.  

With modern medicine, you can watch someone die and know exactly how close he's getting.  The monitors told us how low his heart rate was getting and how low his blood pressure got.  He was so strong.  For hours he struggled to stay alive.  His heart rate elevated to 120 or so and stayed there for hours as his blood pressure dropped and dropped and dropped.  Then after his BP hit around 50/30 his heart rate started to go down.  It hit 100.  Then 90.

At this rate, the nurse noticed that he was wincing occasionally and we thought he might be in pain.  We gave him some pain medicine to make sure he was comfortable.  Narcotics of course lower a person's blood pressure, but at this stage it was more important to make him comfortable than to extend his life a few extra minutes of unconsciousness.  He almost didn't survive the narcotics and over the twenty minutes after they administered it, his heart rate and BP dropped but then stabilized.  His heart rate went down to 50.

Throughout all of this, my Mom and I talked to my Dad and held his hand and kissed him and hugged him and hugged eachother.  We sang and prayed and had a chaplin come in to pray with us.  We talked about good memories of my Dad and we cried.  His BP went down so low that the machine couldn't read it anymore.  

Then, again it stabilized.  It stopped going any lower.  Even the nurse seemed puzzled by this.  An hour went by and he was steady and his BP even started to get a reading again.  Then another hour and another.  I started to think that it wouldn't be tonight after all.  The nurse came in and conceeded that this might be the case and that we might want to go home and get some sleep.  We did so at around 3am.  She promised to call us if anything changed.

At 6am, they called and said my Dad's heart rate went down to 40.  By the time we got there, it was too late.  At 6:28am, my Dad passed away. 

I've never seen a dead body before.  He was cold. His eyes were still open in that half-lidded gaze and I tried to close them and found that it was not an easy thing. It's not like the movies.  You touch your own eyes and they're soft and malleable and you think you can just pass your hands over them and they close.  You have to press on them, using more force than I would have imagined.   Even then I had to do it a second time a few minutes later. 

We spent a long time in that room, mourning.  For some reason we got it in our head that we had to choose a funeral home THAT INSTANT so we frantically started looking around for info on where to go. Thinking back, it was absurd, but people are stupid when they're grieving.

My Mom has said and done some terrible things to me and to Syndee.  One thing I will never, ever doubt is how much she loved my Dad.  She clung to him in that room.  "He's so beautiful" she sobbed over and over again, looking down at the corpse of the 77 year old man that she had been married to for 50 years.  That's what love is. 

The nurses slowly started to pressure us to leave.  Syndee ran interference for a while, which is just as well because I would have held the entire ward hostage before letting them kick my Mom out before she was ready. 

We knew he wanted to be cremated and we knew we did not want a viewing, so this was going to be the last time we saw him ever.  Nobody was going to rush us.  

Ever since High school, long before HBO's six feet under, I read about what really happens to a body when it's embalmed and prepared for a viewing.  It always seemed horrific.  Disrespectful I guess. It reminded me of those dried out bugs that you see pinned inside the scientist's glass case.  I knew I didn't want that for my Dad.  It's very fucked up that I'm worried about them harming my Dad's body so instead I'm burning him to ashes.  But there you go.

I'm sorry I couldn't get you out of there Dad.

William Ludlow Damrosch
December 4, 1930-July 5, 2008

My father's been there nearly a full week.  They were hoping the antibiotics would have kicked in by now but his liver is failing because the rest of his body is failing, so his body isn't processing things the way it should normally.  His blood pressure has gotten slowly worse.

Over the past few days, I've noticed that the nurses have slightly shifted their demeanor towards me and my Mom and the care my Dad receives.  They're still nice and caring and courteous, but...I don't know.  Maybe it's something in the way they look at us.  You know they're thinking he's not going to make it. 

I couldn't sleep last night so at about 1am I called the nurses station to check in and the nurse there was nice and honest and up front with me.  I guess she could tell I was upset, so she spoke with me patiently on the phone for a good half hour to forty minutes, looking carefully at his chart and explaining everything in detail.  She didn't hide anything and while she was gentle with me she didn't hold back either.  I've never had a nurse take so much time to talk to me like that and I really appreciate it.  So thank you, whoever you were. 

Since then, I spoke with several other nurses and two doctors.  They all say the same thing. The outlook is not good.  His blood pressure is getting worse and he's on as much medicine as they can possibly give him.  So they're getting desperate and they're trying some other things to try to get his blood pressure to go up.  I spoke with his cardiologist, who's also on the Hopkins board, and asked him straight out if he'd be getting better care at Hopkins.  He said no, and I believe him.  They'd just be giving him the same medicines over there, and transporting him would be risky. 

There's still a chance he could bounce back, and I'm not giving up hope completely, but I have to start bracing for the worst. Realistically, he's in trouble and nobody seems to think that the odds are very good.  The only thing I can do is hope for another miracle like we had in 2006.  

My Dad is listless and mostly non-responsive.  He occasionally will open his eyes and will try to say a word or two, but that's it.  He used to try to get up to go home regularly but now he's not even doing that.  That's not good.  It's like the fight is going out of him.

One good thing. When my Mom walked in, he said something to her that we couldn't understand.  We tried to get him to repeat it, but instead he just made kissy faces.  He wanted to give her a kiss.  He's such a sweet, gentle person.  It breaks my heart.

I keep thinking about how, a week ago I was feeling so sorry for myself because my Dad was in rehab in a nursing home and how I had to take care of everyone...and now all I can do is dream about how wonderful it would be if my Dad was in rehab in a nursing home so that I could take care of everyone.  I think about what a lucky, dumb bastard I was when he was merely in a wheelchair with some memory problems.  And I think sometime soon I'm going to look back and wish that I was back where I am right now so I could go visit my Dad and squeeze his hand and tell him I love him. What a lucky, dumb bastard I am; my Dad is alive. 

Today's nightmares become tomorrow''s daydreams.  Yesterday's hopes are crushed by today's reality.  Sometimes things don't get better.

Jesus, I need to sign up for the EMO of the Month club or something.

My Dad's heart rate has been up and down. His blood pressure has been low.  He's got fluid in his lungs that's preventing him from breathing well and his breathing has started to become labored.  To get his blood pressure up, they need to give him more fluids and some medicine, but with his kidney failure the extra fluid causes problems with his lungs, and with heart damage the medicines can overtax his heart. .

He's getting dialysis every day, but they can only take off so much fluid because of his low blood pressure. His low blood pressure is from the septic shock he's suffering from because the infection he has had went untreated for so long.  I think it's safe to say he's fighting for his life right now.  They're going to insert a needle and drain his lungs manually tonight.  It's a pretty simple procedure; he had it done once before as an outpatient to test the fluid in his lungs. This is still scary as hell. 

I think the next few days will be critical.  The doctor said the infection and sepsis is causing the low blood pressure.  Once the antibiotics start to kick in some more I'm hoping he'll stabilize some more.  

Prayers and good thoughts are most welcome. 

If anyone wanted to help out, I'm going to have to go pick up my Father's things from the Nursing home sometime over the next week. It'd be nice to have someone to help carry stuff, since I'm pretty much the only able-bodied person around here.  There's not very much stuff. Some clothes and a few books and photo albulms.  It's just a little more than I'd like for one person (assuming they haven't stolen TOO much) and I don't want to be there any longer than absolutely necessary.

Email me or let me know. Thanks.

My Dad is still in the ICU in critical condition. 
He had emergency dialysis to remove fluid and that helped. He's having more dialysis today.  

He has a urinary tract infection.  
He has a sore on his rear end and a sore on his foot that are infected.
His electrolytes were unbalanced, and his heart rate is still a little out of whack.
His blood pressure was seriously low and he's on medicine to control that.
and...

He's got drug-resistant staph infection.

I have to put on gloves and a smock to touch him, and wash my hands afterwords.  Words can't explain how let down and betrayed I feel by this Nursing Home and his dialysis center.  I thought this was a good place.  The really depressing thing is, this might actually BE a good place.  The other places might be even worse.  I don't know.

They didn't even want to take him to the ER.  They told me on the phone that his vitals were all fine.  Did they not take his blood pressure?  Did they not weigh him to notice the fluid buildup? I could tell he had fluid buildup just by looking at his swollen legs.  I just didn't realize how serious it was. I don't understand how this could have happened.  

 

Those are the six words that greeted me as I arrived at the hospital emergency room.  They are not words you ever want to hear. 

I had thought it was going to be a fairly routine precautionary visit. My Dad was having a little difficulty breathing but his vitals were (allegedly) fine and with oxygen he was breathing fine too. My Mom was worried and possibly overreacting.  I wasn't there; God wanted to punish me for daring to try to take Sundays off to have a day to myself so I had to rely on Syndee, my Mother, and the Nursing staff.  My father had named me as the primary decisionmaker in his advanced directive and everyone looked at me to make a decision.

We played it safe and took him in. Thank God we did.  As I arrived, my Mother, Syndee and I were led to the back room of Doom, well away from the rest of the patients or visitors so they won't be able to hear us.  This is NEVER a good thing. The only thing they would tell me at first was that his blood pressure was very low and that they were having trouble getting it up. 

By the time the poor Chaplin arrived, we were all a mess.  We wanted answers. Why didn't the Nursing home catch this? What the hell is wrong? What's going to happen? Poor Syndee felt horrible because she thought my Mom was overreacting and didn't want to take my father to the ER at all. The Chaplin did his best to sort us out and get us to focus and brought the doctor in.

He appears to maybe have had a heart attack.  His blood pressure is stable now.  He's got a urinary tract infection. Things are perhaps not as dire as they seemed at first, but I'm terrified that I'm going to get that dreaded call again, telling me that he's being medivac'd to Hopkins, or worse.  

Now I don't know what to do. Even in a best case scenareo, I'm not sure I want to send him back to Lorien, where they missed this.  Any trust my Mom had with them has certainly evaporated.  Of course, the worst thing is, I'm not even ready to worry about that problem yet.  I *HOPE* that I'm going to have a problem figuring out what to do once he's healthy enough to be released.   

I feel like a guy trying to get to the edge of a burning building so he can jump. Worry about the 30 story drop and that whole 9.8 meters per second squared thang later; for now, let's try to get to a place that's not on fire.

Okay, so I saw what I can only assume is the final episode of Battlestar Galactica. I haven't heard anyone else comment on it so I thought I would.  I've been trying to give the last season some amount of leeway.  Nevermind that they tied together a million different plots in the space of about ten seconds; I can deal with that. They had a time crunch and had to come up with something I guess.  But I think they lost all respectability with what they did at the very end.  Am I the only one who found it cheesy and rediculous?

I mean, the final scene invalidates the entire series.  It makes the underlying premise -- that there was some higher power guiding both cylons and humans together to find earth -- meaningless.  It feels like they just tacked it on at the end for a cheap thrill and a cool gimmick.

In short, two big thumbs down. What a waste. 

I haven't been posting much on my Dad lately.  He's been at the Lorien Nursing Care for over a week now. They're a good place.  He's slowly been getting stronger, though he has good days and bad days. It looks like it'll be closer to a one month stay since he's not anywhere close to getting discharged.  

He's in a wheelchair, though he can sometimes get out of it by himself and walk around a bit.  This is actually a little dangerous since he walks around on his own and falls, which he's done twice.  Still, he's mobile and puttering around a lot and he's dressed most days and clean and clean-shaven, unlike the hospital where they pretty much let you lie in your own filth and give you a quick touch-up once a day. Maybe.  So this place is much better. They give him physical therapy and occupational therapy to train him how to get up properly and what not. He's getting stronger and eating well so overall I think he's headed in the right direction.

He's got some sort of bacterial infection so he's on antibiotics. Some days he's more lucid than others. Some days he's almost like his old self and some days he thinks he's in some sort of army barracks.  He can still recite entire sections of the poem "The Jabberwocky" which is kind of cool. I never knew he could do that in the first place. 

I bought a small photo albulm and brought over some pictures of myself and Syndee for him to keep and a picture frame for him to put his favorite one in. I thought it might cheer him up. I also brought over my old high school yearbook and my Mom brought over an old photo albulm of me growing up. We spent the day looking through them.  It was kind of fun and sad at the same time. My Dad got sleepy pretty quickly so we weren't there that long despite the fact that it was Father's day. 

Two days ago, one of the neighbors from my parent's neighborhood came by while we were visiting my Dad.  Apparently her husband had been in the facility on a permanant basis for over a year.  We had no idea.  When I was growing up, I was best friends with their son Matt, though I've long since lost touch.  That day, after visiting my Dad,  I went to visit him, since he had been nice to me growing up.  He was bedridden and in very poor health.  It took him a while to even remember who I was.  The experience was unpleasant and awkward and he was surly and unhappy and I'm not sure I helped him much, so naturally I went back there today.  I bought him a small present for Father's day that I thought would help him use the controls for his bed more easily (he had trouble the first time I went there).  He didn't want it and was again surly, though I persuaded him to let me put the gift on a table "for his wife."  Oh well, I tried.

It's a pretty terrifying wing they have there. It's one step removed from a hospice.  It's where they put people when they're basically waiting for them to die.  It's just a part of life that we don't see very often, because they hide it away just out of town where we don't have to look at it very often. It's the reason why people don't like hospitals. It's the ugly side of life. Life doesn't care about dignity of joy or pleasure.  Life is shitting yourself and pissing yourself, unable to see or hear or get out of bed.  It's pain and discomfort and bland food and medicine and suppositories and injections and bed sores.  Life is calling the nurse for a bedpan and realizing that she'll never make it in time.  Life is being wiped by strangers and treated like infants.  It's shaking, trembling  hands and a shriveled, failing body that no longer does what you want it to.  And it's going to happen to us all. 

No wonder they keep them out of sight.   I'm just glad my Dad's still in the "Going home soon" wing.

I could use some cheering up, so here's a meme...

If you read this, if your eyes are passing over this right now, even if we don't speak often, please post a comment with a memory of you and me. It can be anything you want -- good or bad. When you're finished,post this little paragraph on your blog and be surprised (or mortified) about what people remember about you.

Okay, so I finally had a little time to myself so I got a little caught up on my movie list.  I just saw Aliens Vs. Predator Two. (I refuse to call it by it's pretentious title "requium"; it's AVP II dammit!)   I won't say this is a good film, but I think it's safe to say that anyone who would consider even watching a movie bearing the title "Aliens versus Predator two" is going to be happy with it.  It was far superior to the first one, and it seemed sort of a homage to both the Aliens series and the Predator series.  This time they went back to the roots and remembered all of the elements that made the originals so enjoyable and made sure to include them rather than try to "make them better" (and inevitably fail). This movie was great in the same way that King Kong versus Godzilla was great.  Or I guess Freddy versus Jason (if you liked them; which I don't). 

In many ways this movie was what we were all waiting for all those years ago when Alies 3 was originally advertised as "The Aliens get loose on earth!"  Rather then set a handfull of humans in some remote underground frozen alien S&M dungeon like the first one, this movie takes place smack dab in hometown America.  It doesn't really bother too much with plot and it doesn't need to.  There's an Alien/Predator hybrid along with some Aliens that get loose on earth.  A predator comes to clean up the mess.  Humans get in the way. Wackiness ensues.  

I like that the Predator wasn't really a good guy in this one (again, unlike the original).  He's more like what he was in the series: A badass member of the Alien NRA  who's out to collect some trophies and kill some stuff.   I also really liked that this movie doesn't follow the normal horror script for determining which characters live and die.  After a while I really felt like none of the characters in the movie were safe, and that's a good thing.  Like Cloverfield, the fact that most of the actors weren't famous probably helped in this department.

If you liked the Aliens movies and/or the Predator movies, you really should watch this one.  If you're not into them, don't bother.

 

Okay I know I often shamelessly plug my Redskins Web site, but this time you REALLY need to check it out.  Even non-football fans should read it.  I'm pretty proud of myself and wanted to share. I think it's pretty funny. And
I think I'm probably the first sports writer to insert links to a George Orwell novel.  Check it out!

My father seems to be getting healthier.  He climbed three steps and his apetite seems to be returning. Hooray!

He's going to be discharged tomorrow and he'll be transported to a Nursing Home for  what's called "Short stay" to get physical therapy. The goal is to train him and get him strong enough that he can move around and be independent and live comfortably at home again.  I don't have any idea how long this will last. The doctor said it could be four days or it could be a month.  

The social worker called me a few days ago and gave me twenty names of Nursing homes and their locations. Then she told me to pick three in order of preference.  I was a bit overwhelmed to say the least.  She said "oh you can just go visit the places to see which ones you like."  Yeah, I have time to go do a thorough investigation of twenty places in the greater baltimore area.  I just won't sleep.  And will stop time. Or something.

Anyway the next day, after frantically looking around at places she calls me back and said that of those 20 places only four of them have in-house dialysis.  I really didn't want my dad being carted on some bus three times a week on top of physical therapy.  So I go from having too many choices to having too few. 

Fortunately it all became moot because I got my first choice which by all accounts is a great place and the only one actually in Columbia.  It's called the Lorien Columbia Nursing and Rehabilitation. Everything I've seen says it's a great place and it's also the closest place and has in-house dialysis. So...I'm happy so far.  If anyone has any information or tips or advice or anything to share, I'd love to hear from you.

I'm also going to be contacting the department of aging. I'm told they can help offer services after my Dad gets home.  I think my Mom needs help even now and when he gets back it'd be wonderful for her to have someone to help him bathe and whatever if he needs it.  I wish I knew about those services before.  Their house is falling apart and there's too much for them to do.  I'm hopeful that with help things will become more manageable.   

Wish us luck.

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You might remember in a recent post, I mentioned that Syndee was at a doctor's appointment and was too woozy to drive herself home. The doctor had ordered some blood tests which we got done the following day.  Last night, in the middle of the Lost season finale (which was pretty good), we got a call from our doctor saying that Syndee has to go to the emergency room because some of the blood tests came back with some potentially serious results.

So today I did double duty, taking my mom to visit my Dad and spending the day in the ER with my wife. Fortunately, it seems as if the problem is just a minor one and not the more serious issue we were worried about. It was a little scary and it was the first time we've had to go to the hospital for Syndee in about a year or so.  As these things go, it could have been worse.

Meanwhile, my Dad's doctor was playing telephone tag with me. Even if I was allowed to use my cellphone in the ER, I can't get any reception.  I tried to use the ER phone, but the doctor was not immediately available and I guess the message service isn't equipped to have the doctor contact me FROM THE SAME BUILDING.  Since the ER doesn't have a direct line, wacky hijinks ensued.  Eventually I paged him with my cellphone number while driving my Mother on some errands, praying he responded before I got back.  Fortunately he did.

My Dad isn't doing as well as he was yesterday.  He didn't have much of an apetite and refused to take his medicine until my Mom got there and coaxed him into it. He's still stable though, and the high levels of the one medicine digoxin is going down slowly.  

When I finally got a hold of the doctor, he told me that my father will be looking to be released on monday or tuesday, but that we might want to send him to some physical therapy and rehab to get his strength back up. He said it could last anywhere from four days to two weeks or longer, depending on how my Dad responds. I think at this stage, it's necessary for him to get stronger, so I think we're going to do it. He was having problems walking and I'm sure there's techniques they could teach him that would help. We don't know where rehab will be.  My Mom is hoping it's at Johns Hopkins because she's convinced that A) They're the best, and B) Everyone else sucks.  Obviously Hopkins is a great place and I wouldn't mind him being there.  I can't help but wince at that sort of commute time to go visit him, but if that's what's best then that's what we'll do.  We'll have to wait and see.

 I didn't get to see my Dad much today. By the time we got the results back on Syndee's tests, I was already ready to collapse.  He was mostly sleeping today anyway.  I need to stop feeling guilty if I don't spend 8 hours with my Dad each and every day. There's just too much to do. Anyway, it's time to go get some sleep and start all over again tomorrow.

We woke up this morning to find my Dad was on the floor by his bed sleeping.  He had some cuts on his knees so he clearly fell. We couldn't get him to wake up, much less stand, so we called 911.

The ambulance arrived inside 4 minutes and they got my Dad to the hospital in a reasonable time.  It's clearly painful for him to swallow.  Though it's always trying to have someone in the hospital, this is where he needs to be right now.  He finally got some rest (he didn't have much choice) and has some people keeping an eye on him.

In the afternoon, Syndee went to a doctor's appointment on her own, giving me a couple of hours to deal with finances and other chores I've been neglecting.  Her doctor called and informed me that she was so out of it that she was in no condition to drive home.  He nearly sent HER to the ER. The good news is that I think this made an impression on our Doctor to confirm that our attempt to get her disability was not frivelous.  The bad news is that she had the car and I couldn't just pick her up and...well the timing could have been better.  I ended up blowing 12 bucks on a cab to get her and then went back to the hospital just in time to see them take my Dad to the ICU.  

Add in a car-ride home where my Mother accused me of stealing the blood from my Dad's veins and you pretty much have my day in a nutshell.  Yay me.

My Dad is at least stable and being cared for.  And he's getting what he needs to get stronger and they're looking into the causes of his delirium. They already found one medicine that is at least partially to blame.  Mad props to 

beguine for helping me research this stuff.  Thanks to everyone else for the support and help.

 

So today we tried to take my Dad and Mom grocery shopping, which we do every Monday.  Unfortunately Dad's legs were so weak that he didn't make it to the car.  By the time I parked the car, my dad was sprawled out on the deck.  

Unfortunately my childhood home (where my parents still live) is a Byzantine maze that involves twists and turns and ducking shrubbery and two sets of short stairs (one is six steps and the deck is two big steps).  My Dad was so weak that he didn't make it down the last set of steps and couldn't walk to the car.  I had to carry him most of the way there, and even then it was a close call.  We debated taking him to the ER; if he can't walk he can't take care of himself.  He really didn't want to go and ultimately we decided to try to see if we could buy him a walker to see if that will help him get around.  Really he's not injured; his legs are just very weak and if he had his hands to steady him it might make a world of difference.

So I dropped my Mom off at the grocery store and, with my Dad sitting comfortably in the car, tried to call around to see if I could find a place that sold walkers.  Unfortunately, this being a holiday, all the good places were closed.  Finally I found a Rite Aid that had some, so I went and dropped 70 bucks on a neat little compact walker. I took my Dad to his house and we tested it out.  Definitely it seemed to help when he was out in the open. Unfortunately, as you might guess, the stairs were still an obstacle.  Also, parts of the house are so cluttered (thanks Mom) that I don't think it'll be much use.  But I think it will be handy to have for Dialysis and shopping trips.  At any rate, taking our time with two rest breaks we did manage to get him inside and in bed.

Of course that was only half the battle, because although my Dad was tired and altered from medication, he really didn't want to go to sleep.  Amusingly, this did lead to the following conversation:

Me: Will you come to bed with me?
Dad: No thanks. You're not my type.

So it's nice to see he has a sense of humor still. But of course he got stubborn and wouldn't go to bed and when he was sitting on the bed he wouldn't lie down. Eventually I coaxed him to lie down and he went to sleep almost instantly.

Tonight, after my Mom finished with groceries, she reported that he says he has a sore throat.  This is, in some ways, good news in that it's an explanation for why he's so weak.  I asked him earlier if he felt sick and he said no, but who knows?  He hasn't had much of an apetite the last few days, which is unlike him. So now we're going to try to get him to see a doctor tomorrow either before or after Dialysis. 

It's really amazing how expectations can diminish so drastically.  It wasn't that long ago that my Dad was driving himself and handling his own finances and bills and such. Now I'd be thrilled if he can walk to and from my car and not fall down in the middle of the night.  I don't know what else to do.  I'm just praying he gets stronger. Maybe it's just a cold and he'll get over it soon.

Wish us luck.

I've always maintained a rule that, barring emergency, I would give myself Sundays completely off.  I need one day that I'm not running chores and doing stuff.

So today I had friends over for my weekly sunday game.  My Mom called about 9pm to tell me my Dad had fallen on the floor and they couldn't get him off the floor.  He wasn't injured but my tiny 70 year old Mom just can't muster the strength to lift him up on her own and he was too weak to offer much assistance.

So I leave my friends to stare at the ceiling while I rush over there.  It takes literally 20 minutes round trip, so it was good time.  I stayed just long enough to make sure my Dad wasn't injured.  I always worry when I pick him up because he's so frail. I feel like I might break a rib or something.  I think I'm picking him up properly (from his back I wrap my arms under his shoulders and lift him up.  He's about 180, but I can do it no sweat. 

So I go back and a few hours pass. 11:30pm or so I get another call. He fell again. It was a good time to end my game anyway and everyone was very nice and understanding.  We need to figure something out because this can't keep up.  Not just because I can't run around five times a day picking him up, but more importantly what happens if I'm not reachable for some reason? So tomorrow I'm going to talk to his doctor about physical therapy or training to teach him how to move about better. I don't know what else to do.

But that's not really what I want to talk about.  All of that was disappointing and a little embarrassing, but it's mostly par for the course.  The second time around I stayed and sat with my Dad for a while and talked to him.  He was out of it and very tired and he wasn't making much sense.  He mentioned his mother stopping by, and she's been dead longer than I've been alive.  Then he looked at me and said "I don't think we should involve Guy in this. He's too young."

It finally happened. He was talking to me as if I was someone else.  He went on a little about "Guy" and was looking straight at me.  He thought I was someone else and that Guy was still a little boy running around.  I knew it would happen, but I don't think you can ever fully prepare for it. 

On the bright side of things my Dad's not particularly injured.  He's mostly just way too tired and needed to go to bed. I stayed with him and cleaned him up and we put him to bed so I should have the rest of the night off at least. *knock on wood*

It passed quickly enough and he realized who I was when I pointed it out, but there it is.  Some good news is that they think some of my Dad's confusion is something called "Delerium" that may be partially caused by his medicines.  So the good news is that they might be able to fix it. The bad news is I have no idea how.

My Mom sort of ruined the doctor's appointment with the Neurologist that was supposed to explain this stuff to us.  My Mom has a lot of distrust in the medicines they give to dad for his memory.  She read some articles that medicines don't help Alzheimers and assumed that this doctor was a quack. SO...instead of giving us strategies to help my Dad and figure out how to get rid of this delirium, we spent the time grilling the Doctor and calling her a quack.  The Doctor got defensive and when my Mom suggested that we go to someone from Johns Hopkins, the doctor was more than happy to shove us off to someone else.  Thanks Mom. 

Who knows how many weeks it'll be until we get an appointment?  Does anyone have any suggestions for things I can do to help my Dad avoid falls? For that matter, does anyone know how to get a hearing aid for less than the thousand dollars it normally costs?  I still don't understand how health care will pay for viagra but won't pay for a hearing aid, but apparently that's how it works. 

I've also told some rumors that sometimes the government will financially help people if they're legitimately taking care of loved ones. Sort of employ them as caregivers that they might normally have to pay if you weren't around, and  to aknowledge the burden they're facing and to aknowledge the fact that it's difficult for them to make ends meet when they're working 40 hours a week taking care of people.  This sounds like a pipe dream, and I'm not sure I like the idea even if it isn't, but  I thought I'd ask if anyone else had heard about this.  For that matter, if there are any other programs that are around that you know about that might help me, let me know.  I stumbled onto a great program in Maryland that helped us get insurance; I figure there's other stuff out there that will help. I just have to FIND it.

Everyone's always saying I should let them know if they can help. Well please, help me.  Let me know if you have any info or suggestions on how to make things better.  Thanks.

Okay, so I have yet to read the book, but I finally managed to watch the movie at least.  I'm curious what other people thought of the movie.  I suspect I would have enjoyed it far more if I had read the book, but as a standalone movie, I have to say that it really failed.  Oh the cast was fine and the special effects were all right. The plot and concept seemed to have been dumbed down for mainstream audiences but other than that seemed sufficient.

Mostly it seemed to suffer from Harry Potter syndrome, where they try to condense lenghty, sweeping material into a single movie and try to appease an existing fan base while also making it accessible and easily understood by the general public (which is to say, stupid people).   I wanted to like this movie.  I really did.

They simply crammed waay too much stuff into a single movie and the entire thing seemed rushed. It seemed like they had a checklist of scenes and plot twists that they had to cram into a limited amount of time and the movie played out like it was on fast forward.  Here we establish that the character has lovable street urchin friends.  This is the scene where they promise to find eachother if they should ever vanish.  Cue the kid vanishing.  Cue explanation of this item here.  Cue explanation of that item. Now on to introducing another character that's very important in the book but only gets 30 seconds of screen time because of pacing.  

Remember that scene in Return of the Jedi when C-3PO is telling the Ewoks all about the Empire and the Rebellion? He basically retold the story of Star Wars and Empire in a 30 second synopsis with shadow puppets, hand waving, and funny voices. This movie reminds me of that.  I can appreciate that they're trying to tell me this grand, epic tale that's very important.  If I was already exposed to the tale, I'd probably be nodding and smiling when they do the funny voices at the important bits.  But in the end all I'm seeing is a talented but strangely-dressed cast hopping about in front of a lot of furry special effects. 

Interestingly enough, the movie made me want to read the book rather badly and I'll probably start tonight.  Thanks to mnemosyne, I already have a copy which I'd been meaning to get to anyway. I want the unsanitized version.  I want to see the undiluted parts that acted as a medium to criticize organized religoin. I want to see the characters, not shadow puppets. I want the actual story, not some hasty, barely-fleshed out checklist of "important scenes."  I don't want the campfire chat, I want to go to the original source to see what it's all about.
 
If that makes any sense at all.