(no subject)
Tuesday morning my dad goes to the hospital for a cardiac catheterization.
I'm a lot more freaked out than I was before (when he was just having the other testing). Of course, that was also before I knew he'd also had a heart attack.
He got his new meds yesterday. It's made me worry even more. He's on three of the same ones my grandma was on. The nitroglycerin patch irritated her skin, and I think they eventually let her switch to something else. It's irritating my dad's skin too. In the beginning she was put on beta blockers, but they made her feel so bad she stopped taking them. She was put back on them a month before she died. And when she was in the hospital a week before she died, they took her off of them and said they "really weren't trying to kill her." My dad is on beta blockers and they make him feel really awful. Maybe I wouldn't be so worried if he came out and told me directly that he feels so bad, but he doesn't. He just looks like hell.
My mom doesn't even know about all of my dad's heart stuff. Well, I haven't told her, and I'm sure that if my brother told her she'd have already called me crying about it (she cried for hours, and called my dad crying when I told her about the Army thing- which, for the record is going on hold until I find out more about my dad).
Anyway, so Tuesday morning I wake up bright and early to take my dad to the hospital, for the fourth time in three or four weeks. I know it sounds bad, but I don't want my brother to be there. I don't want my aunts to be there. My dad doesn't want my mom to be there, and I certainly don't. All I know is my mom won't be there. If she shows up I'll hurt her. One of my aunts will probably come to town, if not both. And I guess when left with the choices of having them wait with me or having them go through all of my shit, I'd rather have them wait with me. I don't think my brother should go either, because he hasn't cared enough to go to any of the other appointments, so if he goes to this one, I think it'll be just for the attention. At any rate, I don't want him to be there, which some may consider to be bitchy, unfair, and maybe somewhat territorial, but that doesn't really bother me. It's how I feel about it.
In keeping with my worry-management planning (courtesy of Dale Carnegie. Laugh all you want, it makes me laugh too, but it kind of works), I'm supposed to look at all of the possible outcomes, look at the worst and accept that it can happen. Once you accept that it can happen, you're supposed to make a plan accordingly. So here goes...
1. They don't find any blockages during the cath. my dad is allowed to come home after a few hours of bedrest at the hospital.
2. They find a blockage. They use a stint or a balloon to unblock it. Dad stays overnight for monitoring and can return home the next day.
3. They find blockages. They try a stint and it doesn't work/they elect for surgery. Dad is admitted and will come home... eventually.
4. My dad dies.
Obviously 4 is the worst outcome. When I was little I was always worried about my dad dying (not so much my mom. In fact, tonight I was kind of thinking it should be her with the heart problem, not my dad. Yes, I admit it. My mother has never been a real mother, so you're damned right I'm going to wish it was her who was sick, not my dad.), so I've thought about it long before now, but I've yet to come up with a real plan. And as far as that whole not worrying about it anymore thing goes... Yeah, I don't think so. As far as a plan goes, all I have is leaving this godforsaken hell hole and most likely a healthy dose of "forget about it" drinking. And definitely Army.
To make it all better, I'm probably going to start my period on Tuesday. Next week is really going to suck. I hope I don't hurt somebody, unless they deserve it.
On a positive note, I love my dog. He is awesome, and pretty, and well-behaved. And really funny. We walked on the Rail Trail today. I try to walk him in a different place every day, mainly for him, even though he probably doesn't care, just like I really don't particularly care where as long as it gets done. I still think the idea of giving him a new place to walk as much as possible is at least a nice gesture. New smells and scenery certainly won't do either of us any harm.
I SAW A HAWK TODAY. Even though it killed a squirrel right in front of me, I couldn't take my eyes off of it. It noticed me, stopped eating for a bit and stared at me. It put its foot on top of the squirrel, and it reminded me of how Beau uses his feet to try to hold things still to play with them. Anyway, it was huge. Dad and I stayed outside watching it for a few minutes. I even got a picture of it on my cell phone, but it looks more like a strange penguin than a hawk, you can't see the squirrel at all. Which is good, it would've probably made me sad if you could see it.
Okay, enough for now, and probably until Tuesday.
I'm a lot more freaked out than I was before (when he was just having the other testing). Of course, that was also before I knew he'd also had a heart attack.
He got his new meds yesterday. It's made me worry even more. He's on three of the same ones my grandma was on. The nitroglycerin patch irritated her skin, and I think they eventually let her switch to something else. It's irritating my dad's skin too. In the beginning she was put on beta blockers, but they made her feel so bad she stopped taking them. She was put back on them a month before she died. And when she was in the hospital a week before she died, they took her off of them and said they "really weren't trying to kill her." My dad is on beta blockers and they make him feel really awful. Maybe I wouldn't be so worried if he came out and told me directly that he feels so bad, but he doesn't. He just looks like hell.
My mom doesn't even know about all of my dad's heart stuff. Well, I haven't told her, and I'm sure that if my brother told her she'd have already called me crying about it (she cried for hours, and called my dad crying when I told her about the Army thing- which, for the record is going on hold until I find out more about my dad).
Anyway, so Tuesday morning I wake up bright and early to take my dad to the hospital, for the fourth time in three or four weeks. I know it sounds bad, but I don't want my brother to be there. I don't want my aunts to be there. My dad doesn't want my mom to be there, and I certainly don't. All I know is my mom won't be there. If she shows up I'll hurt her. One of my aunts will probably come to town, if not both. And I guess when left with the choices of having them wait with me or having them go through all of my shit, I'd rather have them wait with me. I don't think my brother should go either, because he hasn't cared enough to go to any of the other appointments, so if he goes to this one, I think it'll be just for the attention. At any rate, I don't want him to be there, which some may consider to be bitchy, unfair, and maybe somewhat territorial, but that doesn't really bother me. It's how I feel about it.
In keeping with my worry-management planning (courtesy of Dale Carnegie. Laugh all you want, it makes me laugh too, but it kind of works), I'm supposed to look at all of the possible outcomes, look at the worst and accept that it can happen. Once you accept that it can happen, you're supposed to make a plan accordingly. So here goes...
1. They don't find any blockages during the cath. my dad is allowed to come home after a few hours of bedrest at the hospital.
2. They find a blockage. They use a stint or a balloon to unblock it. Dad stays overnight for monitoring and can return home the next day.
3. They find blockages. They try a stint and it doesn't work/they elect for surgery. Dad is admitted and will come home... eventually.
4. My dad dies.
Obviously 4 is the worst outcome. When I was little I was always worried about my dad dying (not so much my mom. In fact, tonight I was kind of thinking it should be her with the heart problem, not my dad. Yes, I admit it. My mother has never been a real mother, so you're damned right I'm going to wish it was her who was sick, not my dad.), so I've thought about it long before now, but I've yet to come up with a real plan. And as far as that whole not worrying about it anymore thing goes... Yeah, I don't think so. As far as a plan goes, all I have is leaving this godforsaken hell hole and most likely a healthy dose of "forget about it" drinking. And definitely Army.
To make it all better, I'm probably going to start my period on Tuesday. Next week is really going to suck. I hope I don't hurt somebody, unless they deserve it.
On a positive note, I love my dog. He is awesome, and pretty, and well-behaved. And really funny. We walked on the Rail Trail today. I try to walk him in a different place every day, mainly for him, even though he probably doesn't care, just like I really don't particularly care where as long as it gets done. I still think the idea of giving him a new place to walk as much as possible is at least a nice gesture. New smells and scenery certainly won't do either of us any harm.
I SAW A HAWK TODAY. Even though it killed a squirrel right in front of me, I couldn't take my eyes off of it. It noticed me, stopped eating for a bit and stared at me. It put its foot on top of the squirrel, and it reminded me of how Beau uses his feet to try to hold things still to play with them. Anyway, it was huge. Dad and I stayed outside watching it for a few minutes. I even got a picture of it on my cell phone, but it looks more like a strange penguin than a hawk, you can't see the squirrel at all. Which is good, it would've probably made me sad if you could see it.
Okay, enough for now, and probably until Tuesday.