more with the email dispatches
I had a lovely evening chatting on the phone with friends and then (I should know better by now than to be happy, amirite?) decided to sign in to FailBook and saw that my sister had posted something alarming so I called my mom. While Dad was doing better and the doctors were very encouraged last week at his lungs seeming a bit better (though by a bit they mean very very little as he has emphysema, pneumonia AND the MRSA is not receding) he has been much less confused and is doing better with getting enough oxygen now that they have the CO2 trap on his oxygen mask, he is really not getting better, his kidneys have completely failed and now the doctor has told my mom that they cannot operate on his foot at all, ever. He has pulmonary edema (kind of obvious) and the right side of his heart has failed, basically he is in the end stages of kidney AND heart failure. His heart is just not strong enough to withstand an operation, it would be a death sentence. The doctors have given them three options: a continuous nursing facility that can do his dialysis onsite, the nearest of which is here in Denver(and while I would love to see him more, Mom can't stand driving in the city to the point of panic attacks and dad hates the city and that is just not a good option to be three and a half hours from his real home and the rest of the family); a nursing home in Casper or Douglas where he can take the bus to dialysis (and he gets so tired doing the dialysis that the hour bus ride from Douglas is a non-starter, he'd be in the Casper facility) and the third option is hospice. He will never be coming home, no matter which option they choose.
Intellectually I understood from the start that this would be the outcome, but the reality of it is not my preferred state of being at all. My mother is again heartbroken. None of us want to see dad suffer, and he has been adamant with the doctors that there be no extreme measures with any kind of restarting his heart or whatnot, now that he is coherent again, he has made his wishes an the topic clear to everyone. The doctors (five of them) had a conference to all get on the same page and dad's chances as stated by the outcome of that little confab are one percent survival.
Mom and I talked about the truck for a while, it took her mind off things, she has it in the front yard now and George (her Jeep) is upset that she has deigned to allow a lowly Ford into the driveway. (this is what we do to keep our minds off the horror that we are endlessly aware of) Eddie (that's my soon to be new to me truck) is all ready to go as soon as I get the insurance transferred and find a way to get my ass up to Douglas to get him.
Back to dad then, he is having an echo cardiogram as soon as there is an opening in the schedule. But I think the doctor may be letting that drag out a little as he doesn't expect dad to live more than a few more weeks. It wasn't stated, obviously, but understood that they are not expecting any of the three choices to be ones that will have to last for very long. But dad is a tough sonofabitch and may surprise them yet.
So that is the state of the Stephanie for tonight. I really NEED that teleporter now, I NEED to get to my mom, if only to hug her because she is alone in that great big house and missing dad and sad and I hate that. And since dad is awake and aware, I'd really like just one more visit. This dragging on of events is horror filled and terrible, but at least we can say goodbye. When my biological father died suddenly in a car wreck, there was no chance for one more I love you or hug. And yet it was at least clean and quick. I am not sure which is worse, the shock of that or the dragging heartbreak of watching someone who for the last nearly thirty years of my life was one of the strongest people I had ever met and now is so sick and so weary and so shrunk into this awfulness. Really, it all sucks.
But. We just keep getting up and carrying on, it's what we do, dammit. We are tough sonsabitches too, I guess.
Charlie, mom got your card and said that it absolutely made her day, she was just delighted. Thank you for that kindness. The smile in her voice as she read it to me at the end of the call was beautiful, I thank you for putting it there.
Anybody want to drive me to scenic Douglas, Wyoming this Saturday? (kidding!!! honestly! stop yourself from hitting reply now! You are supposed to laugh at that.)
Thank you for reading, as always.
Love and weepy hugs,
S3
((and then LJ just deleted my replies to comments! WTF LJ!?))
Intellectually I understood from the start that this would be the outcome, but the reality of it is not my preferred state of being at all. My mother is again heartbroken. None of us want to see dad suffer, and he has been adamant with the doctors that there be no extreme measures with any kind of restarting his heart or whatnot, now that he is coherent again, he has made his wishes an the topic clear to everyone. The doctors (five of them) had a conference to all get on the same page and dad's chances as stated by the outcome of that little confab are one percent survival.
Mom and I talked about the truck for a while, it took her mind off things, she has it in the front yard now and George (her Jeep) is upset that she has deigned to allow a lowly Ford into the driveway. (this is what we do to keep our minds off the horror that we are endlessly aware of) Eddie (that's my soon to be new to me truck) is all ready to go as soon as I get the insurance transferred and find a way to get my ass up to Douglas to get him.
Back to dad then, he is having an echo cardiogram as soon as there is an opening in the schedule. But I think the doctor may be letting that drag out a little as he doesn't expect dad to live more than a few more weeks. It wasn't stated, obviously, but understood that they are not expecting any of the three choices to be ones that will have to last for very long. But dad is a tough sonofabitch and may surprise them yet.
So that is the state of the Stephanie for tonight. I really NEED that teleporter now, I NEED to get to my mom, if only to hug her because she is alone in that great big house and missing dad and sad and I hate that. And since dad is awake and aware, I'd really like just one more visit. This dragging on of events is horror filled and terrible, but at least we can say goodbye. When my biological father died suddenly in a car wreck, there was no chance for one more I love you or hug. And yet it was at least clean and quick. I am not sure which is worse, the shock of that or the dragging heartbreak of watching someone who for the last nearly thirty years of my life was one of the strongest people I had ever met and now is so sick and so weary and so shrunk into this awfulness. Really, it all sucks.
But. We just keep getting up and carrying on, it's what we do, dammit. We are tough sonsabitches too, I guess.
Charlie, mom got your card and said that it absolutely made her day, she was just delighted. Thank you for that kindness. The smile in her voice as she read it to me at the end of the call was beautiful, I thank you for putting it there.
Anybody want to drive me to scenic Douglas, Wyoming this Saturday? (kidding!!! honestly! stop yourself from hitting reply now! You are supposed to laugh at that.)
Thank you for reading, as always.
Love and weepy hugs,
S3
((and then LJ just deleted my replies to comments! WTF LJ!?))