Walking down that path (an update)
So I had wanted to post about my experiences this past Saturday but those are to be overshadowed by those of yesterday. But I'll still write about both.
In short, my father was admitted to the hospital late yesterday afternoon.
My sister Shawna got my mother to email the podiatrist to push up his appointment that was to be the 10th. He was seen yesterday and his left foot was worse. What started out as one sore turned into 3 nasty surface ulcers. Though my father tried not to, he was admitted to the hospital shortly after that doc visit. He had actually tried to BS the nurse admitting him, but the podiatrist had the presence of mind to call ahead to the hospital so they had prep'd a gurney and IV prior to his arrival.
It seems this step by the doctor sunk in to my father about how serious his condition really is. He started singing like a canary. He knew something was wrong a few months ago; About the same time sister Crystal had mentioned that his foot was starting to look bad. And given we never saw him w/o socks after that point means he did figure it out and wanted to hide it. Which, sadly, lends into the theory that he's done with it all.
You wouldn't have know he was in that much trouble on Saturday. My street was to be blocked off for the OC Marathon during what was going to be our weekly family dinners (which happen Sunday afternoons. Before you ask how that is dinner, we're southern and what you call dinner is supper ^_^). Now, we had planned on having a breakfast for my father anyways so this worked out. I hit up Costco the Friday before for breakfast foods and came over that morning. And stayed for the longest time I have ever been there since moving out of my parents home in 2003. A good 8-9 hours. We went down to the rec room of my parents place, mom dad nephew and I and played pool for a few hours. But a good portion was my father sleeping in his electric lazy-boy (wondrous thing it is, hand built buy a guy for his late brother, bought by my dad a few years ago). And not fully reclined.
That last bit of info is important. See, the podiatrist had told my dad to keep his feet UP. Not off his feet.... ELEVATED so the blood could flow. Shawna was with dad when he told the doctor that he'd played pool over the weekend. Just about wanted to bitch slap him I think.
So last night, what was to be our second meeting was a little more serious, at least at the end. Crystal's husband Vernon had his cousin Ruben and his wife over for Cinco De Drinko. After they left we had a good hours talk, just the three of us. We talked about all possibilities. Right now there's mainly two: He passes because of this, or he doesn't go back to work. I don't think the doctors will allow him to work with his feet down anymore. Given lack of circulation is more a direct cause of the severity of his problem any doc telling him he could go back would be on crack.
That's all for now. I plan on going to see him after work today (hospital is a few miles from work). We'll know tomorrow sometime what the next step for him is (They're giving it two days, long enough for the bazillion cultures they took from him to develop. This ain't CSI, things take time).
In short, my father was admitted to the hospital late yesterday afternoon.
My sister Shawna got my mother to email the podiatrist to push up his appointment that was to be the 10th. He was seen yesterday and his left foot was worse. What started out as one sore turned into 3 nasty surface ulcers. Though my father tried not to, he was admitted to the hospital shortly after that doc visit. He had actually tried to BS the nurse admitting him, but the podiatrist had the presence of mind to call ahead to the hospital so they had prep'd a gurney and IV prior to his arrival.
It seems this step by the doctor sunk in to my father about how serious his condition really is. He started singing like a canary. He knew something was wrong a few months ago; About the same time sister Crystal had mentioned that his foot was starting to look bad. And given we never saw him w/o socks after that point means he did figure it out and wanted to hide it. Which, sadly, lends into the theory that he's done with it all.
You wouldn't have know he was in that much trouble on Saturday. My street was to be blocked off for the OC Marathon during what was going to be our weekly family dinners (which happen Sunday afternoons. Before you ask how that is dinner, we're southern and what you call dinner is supper ^_^). Now, we had planned on having a breakfast for my father anyways so this worked out. I hit up Costco the Friday before for breakfast foods and came over that morning. And stayed for the longest time I have ever been there since moving out of my parents home in 2003. A good 8-9 hours. We went down to the rec room of my parents place, mom dad nephew and I and played pool for a few hours. But a good portion was my father sleeping in his electric lazy-boy (wondrous thing it is, hand built buy a guy for his late brother, bought by my dad a few years ago). And not fully reclined.
That last bit of info is important. See, the podiatrist had told my dad to keep his feet UP. Not off his feet.... ELEVATED so the blood could flow. Shawna was with dad when he told the doctor that he'd played pool over the weekend. Just about wanted to bitch slap him I think.
So last night, what was to be our second meeting was a little more serious, at least at the end. Crystal's husband Vernon had his cousin Ruben and his wife over for Cinco De Drinko. After they left we had a good hours talk, just the three of us. We talked about all possibilities. Right now there's mainly two: He passes because of this, or he doesn't go back to work. I don't think the doctors will allow him to work with his feet down anymore. Given lack of circulation is more a direct cause of the severity of his problem any doc telling him he could go back would be on crack.
That's all for now. I plan on going to see him after work today (hospital is a few miles from work). We'll know tomorrow sometime what the next step for him is (They're giving it two days, long enough for the bazillion cultures they took from him to develop. This ain't CSI, things take time).