Update on Dad, and not much else
Yep, two months without a [public] post -- (am now making public all the things I've written but left private because they had nothing to do with anything) -- and that's not even the longest I've ever gone silent. ^_^
Have been doing a lot of caretaking for my dad. Those not in the know: he's a cardiac patient. He's had a difibrulator (probably spelled wrong but too sleepy to care) in his chest since 1996 and it's doing a fairly decent job keeping his heart going (and regulating the beats).
Unfortunately, combined with the medications he's taken over the last decade (many of which freshly out of the experimental stages), his liver is seeing deteriation and the blood vessels in his brain have been shrinking, meaning he's looking at a heart transplant. So, it's been more than a little strained at home lately; it's not that we hadn't expected this to happen, but who's ever really prepared for it?
As difficult as this all has been, I know we're very fortunate. Not only do we live in a country with excellent medical care, we also happen to live just north of San Diego, the home of some of the premiere cardiac transplant teams. My dad's received excellent care from them for years and they'll never know how thankful my family is.
Dad's "team" of specialists met Monday to discuss the results of his most recent labwork, which will determine whether he's a candidate for the transplant. Worst-case scenario: he's found ineligible because of a number of reasons (he's too fragile for the operation, he's too big a guy for the operation, there's already too much damage to other organs, et cetera) and we do the best we can for whatever time he has. (Which sounds sad, but hey, when he almost died in '96 and they implanted his defibrulator, they gave him two years until everything gave out. He's fooled them before. ^_^)
Best-case scenario: he's found eligible and placed on the transplant list. He could be placed anywhere on the list depending on his condition and how urgently he needs the operation; we won't know until the docs present a final report to us. Then, we play the waiting game until a donor heart is found, at which time the transplant will take place (probably in Los Angeles, as it's a larger area with more potential candidates)(sounds a little sick, huh? That's medical humor for you. ^_~).
Dad has his good days and bad days. On good days, he's just a little slow with physical movements and mental functions. He speaks and moves slowly and has a difficult time recalling information. He gets winded from walking up the stairs at home, but he does okay.
Bad days are... well, they can be unsettling for everyone. The medications he's on can cause lethargy and extreme faigue; his hands shake like a Parkinson's patient and he has trouble feeding himself. He has to walk with a cane even short distances. It's really difficult, at no matter what age, to watch your dad be unable to eat a bowl of soup because his hands are shaking so badly he can't get the spoon to his mouth.
Blessedly, as long as the docs keep his potassium levels high and his edema in check, Dad has many more good days than bad. It's difficult to see that same medications that are helping him also hurt him (a prescription for his liver, for example, is the cause of blood vessel shrinkage in the brain), but I'm still aware of the fact that, had this happened even five or ten years before it did, he wouldn't have survived much past the initial hospitalization.
This has gotten much longer than I expected. ^_^ Just needed to talk about it for a minute (or twenty). I really don't talk about it much in public - not because I feel I have no one to talk to but just because we're so open with it at home that I never feel as though I'm holding some big stressor inside and can't let it out. It's a daily thing, so for our family it's just become the norm.
More in a moment; lots of Phoenix Rising stuff to mention but wanted this post to be just for my dad.
Have been doing a lot of caretaking for my dad. Those not in the know: he's a cardiac patient. He's had a difibrulator (probably spelled wrong but too sleepy to care) in his chest since 1996 and it's doing a fairly decent job keeping his heart going (and regulating the beats).
Unfortunately, combined with the medications he's taken over the last decade (many of which freshly out of the experimental stages), his liver is seeing deteriation and the blood vessels in his brain have been shrinking, meaning he's looking at a heart transplant. So, it's been more than a little strained at home lately; it's not that we hadn't expected this to happen, but who's ever really prepared for it?
As difficult as this all has been, I know we're very fortunate. Not only do we live in a country with excellent medical care, we also happen to live just north of San Diego, the home of some of the premiere cardiac transplant teams. My dad's received excellent care from them for years and they'll never know how thankful my family is.
Dad's "team" of specialists met Monday to discuss the results of his most recent labwork, which will determine whether he's a candidate for the transplant. Worst-case scenario: he's found ineligible because of a number of reasons (he's too fragile for the operation, he's too big a guy for the operation, there's already too much damage to other organs, et cetera) and we do the best we can for whatever time he has. (Which sounds sad, but hey, when he almost died in '96 and they implanted his defibrulator, they gave him two years until everything gave out. He's fooled them before. ^_^)
Best-case scenario: he's found eligible and placed on the transplant list. He could be placed anywhere on the list depending on his condition and how urgently he needs the operation; we won't know until the docs present a final report to us. Then, we play the waiting game until a donor heart is found, at which time the transplant will take place (probably in Los Angeles, as it's a larger area with more potential candidates)(sounds a little sick, huh? That's medical humor for you. ^_~).
Dad has his good days and bad days. On good days, he's just a little slow with physical movements and mental functions. He speaks and moves slowly and has a difficult time recalling information. He gets winded from walking up the stairs at home, but he does okay.
Bad days are... well, they can be unsettling for everyone. The medications he's on can cause lethargy and extreme faigue; his hands shake like a Parkinson's patient and he has trouble feeding himself. He has to walk with a cane even short distances. It's really difficult, at no matter what age, to watch your dad be unable to eat a bowl of soup because his hands are shaking so badly he can't get the spoon to his mouth.
Blessedly, as long as the docs keep his potassium levels high and his edema in check, Dad has many more good days than bad. It's difficult to see that same medications that are helping him also hurt him (a prescription for his liver, for example, is the cause of blood vessel shrinkage in the brain), but I'm still aware of the fact that, had this happened even five or ten years before it did, he wouldn't have survived much past the initial hospitalization.
This has gotten much longer than I expected. ^_^ Just needed to talk about it for a minute (or twenty). I really don't talk about it much in public - not because I feel I have no one to talk to but just because we're so open with it at home that I never feel as though I'm holding some big stressor inside and can't let it out. It's a daily thing, so for our family it's just become the norm.
More in a moment; lots of Phoenix Rising stuff to mention but wanted this post to be just for my dad.