Not a Freebie-Friday (again. sorry. consider that on hold until I get my head together).
They still don't know exactly what's wrong, and the results of the biopsy wont be back until early next week. They have added a new possible disease to consider though: drug-induced lupus, thanks to some medication he should have only been on for a short period of time that he's somehow been on for years.
I wanted to post something nice about my dad tonight, hence the photo, because quite frankly, I'd really like to bop him in the nose.
Dad's getting stronger, and they're getting ready to move him out of the ICU....but getting stronger for him means that he's now well enough to exhibit horrible behaviors. He's a royal pain in the arse when he gets like this, and we're all too familiar with it because he pulled this routine when he had his stroke.
He thinks my mom (and me now, too) are conspiring against him, we're "in on it", and we're "commiting" him to the hospital. He's telling my mom all sorts of nasties like he wants her to leave and that he doesn't care if she comes back or not. He's pulling at things that are plugged into him and he's ripping things out that he shouldn't be, and last night when I walked into his room, some dumb-ass nurse who wasn't breifed had given him a phone in is room and he was making calls to rent a car so he could leave. (?!!) Forget the fact that he has no pants. Or a wallet. Or a brain.
(sorry, I am so pissed)
I love him dearly, very dearly, but this my friends, is crap...and it's really hard to tolerate. It's all drug induced malarkey, we know that, and he probably wont remember any of this once he gets out. But it hurts, and it's really hard to take.
I've been somewhat hesitant to blog about all this stuff with my dad, because I know he reads my blog (when he can), and if he ever gets well enough, he might scroll back through all of this. I worry about him reading it and it upsetting him, because I really do not believe he does any of this on purpose, and I really don't think he remembers any of it. But I've just flat out come to the conclusion that this is my damn blog, and I need to process this, and well....it might not hurt for him to someday know the truth of went on behind his hospital-haze.
Friday, June 03, 2011
vintage me. and dad.
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7 comments:
Much sympathy. Drug-induced is right. I saw the same thing with my dad.
Don't take it personally. But it's hard to watch, and hard to live through. My secret fear with MY dad was that he wouldn't come out of it and be his old self again.
But he did. I hope yours will too!
I hope they find an answer soon and all of you can begin to recover. Love, light and prayers for you and yours.
So frustrating to add dealing with the sundowning on top of worrying about whatever is actually wrong. Been there and have no good advice - just sympathy for you and your mom. No fun.
Sending prayers, good thoughts and spare karma your way!
Gor bless ye, woman, for sticking in there while the illness robs your father of his good senses. As for any possible post-recuperative discoveries by your father of his offensive/self-injurious behavior, well...I would really like to find out what-all I've done during several grand mal seizures to piss off the staff so royally, and scare my friends. Some certitude would be nice, if only to reassure me that I didn't disgrace myself with churlish language applied lavishly to those charged with my care. Gulp!
But... House says it's NEVER lupus!
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OK, seriously.
I want to tell you a story and at first it's going to sound like it's all about me, but what I'm really trying to say is that you're not alone.
My father died a few years ago, and his brother (my only uncle) really stepped up to the plate as far as doing and saying to me all the things a father would have. We live in the same city, and even though he travels a lot, he is there for me whenever I need him, just like a father would be. We've always been close, but after my dad died... well, I just can't, don't want to, imagine Unca Joe not being there as well.
About two years ago this fall, he was travelling and became ill enough to become hospitalized in this city far away. The first few days after emergency surgery were really rough. The only other time he'd been in a hospital was after getting shot to hell in Vietnam, and apparently with all the drug fog, that's where he thought he still was. After two days of him ripping everything out of his arms and trying to walk out (butt hanging out of hospital gown and everything), they put him in restraints. This was really hard to see - it hurt me in my heart, you know? Such a gentle man? - but overall it was best for him... except he kept trying to get out of the restraints. Moving would have likely killed him, so they wound up putting him in a medically induced coma. This went on for about a month... followed by almost three months of slow rehabilitation before he could come back home.
He has no memory of trying to rip out his tubes and escape. He has no memory of trying to get out of the restraints. He has no memory of the things he said and did those first couple of months after surgery. But he has a photo that my aunt took, of him hooked up to every machine possible, and arms in restraints, tied to the bed. Every once and a while he'll take it out and show it to me, and ask me if it was as bad as it looks like it was.
I think your father being able to come back later and read these posts is going to be really important to him. I think, in love, it's important to show all the things you feel with someone, even frustration -- after all, we love people BECAUSE of who they are, not IN SPITE of what they are, right? I think it's important for your father to know how you feel, and what he might not remember. To know that you love him? To know that you and your mother, while frustrated, are by his side? That's really powerful.
Love you, lady. Get some hugs. Give some, too.
Many HUGS to you and your Mom. Hope this moment passes quickly and he can get back to being the man you know.
When my Grandmother was recovering from bypass surgery and staying at our house, she said her Corn Flakes were telling her that we were all trying to kill her. Gee thanks, Tony the Tiger!
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