Deja F You

Every time I have sat down to write this, to clear my head of all of this, I suddenly lose my words.  I have a lot to say, but I’m not entirely sure how to say it all.

My Dad has been in the hospital for two weeks today; today being what would have been my parents’ 61^st wedding anniversary.  He has had a toe amputated, his foot debrided twice, and one surgery to perform angioplasty on the arteries in his leg.  He was doing well, they were planning on discharging him to an inpatient rehab facility tomorrow – Friday.  I was manically trying to help the social worker find a suitable facility that had inpatient dialysis; without that, we would have to pay out over $300/week in transportation fees to get him to dialysis.  I was also working on trying to get together some transportation options for when he got home. But that all came to a screeching halt yesterday when, after the second debridement surgery, the doctor said that the area didn’t bleed as much as she thought it would and she called his vascular surgeon. I called that surgeon who said my Dad’s arteries are calcified.  He will reassess him today and most likely go back into his leg, this time through his ankle, to try and open up the circulation more.  My Dad also has what’s called skin break-down, which basically is damaged skin which would open up and turn into an ulcer if it is not treated and improves.  So – if the circulation doesn’t improve, if the skin breakdown doesn’t improve or gets worse, he could lose his lower leg.  Hearing those words were worse than what I imagine an actual kick to the stomach would be like; I’ve never been kicked in the stomach, except from the inside out (and man that kid was a strong kicker) but I can imagine that it sucks as much as that did.  I had heard that he might lose his foot, but that was prior to the toe amputation and circulation surgery last week. As far as I was concerned, he was on a smooth ride out the hospital door and into rehab, which meant one step closer to home.

Suddenly, everything just stopped.  And since that call I have spent more time reading up about amputations in dialysis/diabetic patients than I care to mention.  I have seen pictures that no one should see – it is AMAZING what comes up in Google; certain things really should be left for medical professionals to view.  Once I avoided or at least averted my eyes to the graphic images, I read medical studies – I’m not sure how many – that all basically had the same message.  Amputation at his age, and with all of the medical conditions he has, will inevitably shorten his life-span to that of dandelion that’s been picked by my toddler.  If he were to survive surgery, he may not live more than 30 days after the procedure. If he were to make it past the 30 day mark, chances are he wouldn’t live another two years.  And what would those two years be like?  I’ve tried to envision it but it is not a pretty picture, no matter what I try to toss in there to make it a more manageable image. He is wheelchair bound because he can’t lift himself up to use crutches. He is depressed because his independence has been taken away.  He is alone, in a wheelchair. If he makes it out of the hospital, out of rehab, maybe he lives with us – we would have to buy a home in his area that is accessible to him. His sense of humor is gone; not that it’s in the best of shape now but he is able to still laugh and joke, which is a good sign.  I want him to be here long enough to make memories that will last the rest of my life-time and that of my daughter, but it is not often that the universe grants us what we want.  My Dad has been through so much in this life and for this to happen now, which will be the end of his life if this is the path we have to take, it is heart-breaking and makes me feel like I have been robbed of yet another parent. I watched my Mom slowly die and I feel like I will be forced to relive that with my Dad.  He has always been the stable one, the reliable one, the supportive one; he’s the one left that knows what we were all like as children, he’s the one left that remembers what it was like as we grew older and crazier. I realize that I am lucky he is still here; he should have died in 1999.  But regardless of how lucky I should be, today, I don’t feel very lucky at all.  I feel sad, shocked, scared, alone, exhausted, numb……but certainly not lucky.

Mother's Day Once More

So yesterday was Mother's Day. I cried for a pretty good amount of it, and in fact, I'm still crying. It's been a great few days.

Why am I crying? I felt alone. Really, really alone yesterday. Rob worked and I got one phone call all day long. Rob's family had already reached out to me the other day to check on my Dad so I didn't expect to hear from them. My sister texted me in the early afternoon and I guess my Dad couldn't figure out how to call me from the hospital. Rob texted me in the morning. Emily and I had about two or maybe three hours of decent time together when no one said no and no one felt like they were talking to a wall. But that didn't last. Carried over to the birthday party I took her to, where she fought me so hard to leave that she fell down some stairs in the yard, backwards as she backed away from me as I said "honey I have to get your socks and shoes on so we can go". I just felt isolated yesterday. There was no one to celebrate and there was no celebration for me. No "thank you"s were said, no flowers were given. Rob gave me a very practical gift and got Rita's ice - which he wanted and he likes; the night before I said I wanted ice cream or cake. Obviously that request went unnoticed or just forgotten.

I was asked questions all day long. Request after request for things - more water, a different tv show, more chicken, different clothes, calls I didn't want to make but was asked to make them anyway. Over and over and over. Only once was I asked how I was - as I sat on the couch, on the verge of tears and he played with her in the back I heard "you ok", to which I said "yeah I'm fine" which we all know means I am NOT FINE. And then he asked "do you miss us" to which I said "ummm no, I'm good". I don't think he liked my candor but quite frankly, fuck him and his joke because I sat in that house and at that party miserable and alone all damned day. Some mothers were being celebrated with breakfast in bed, flowers, cards extolling their glory and awesomeness. I was being told "no" over and over all day long by a stubborn toddler while only one person called. And even she was too busy celebrating with her own mother to hear just how sad I was.

My Dad

I really shouldn’t be taking time out of my day to write this – I am more swamped than I can explain and under a TON of pressure to get all of my work done as soon as possible…but I need to get this out of my brain.

My dad isn’t doing well.  He’s been having pains in his legs, so bad that it’s affecting his mobility.  I saw him yesterday and he just doesn’t look good.  My sister said that when she went to church with him on my Mom’s birthday, he had to stop walking because he couldn’t get his breath and it took a while for him to catch his breath – they were already sitting down when he finally was breathing normally. Really wish she had told me that a week ago.  But now, on top of the mobility issues and now the breathing issues, he’s having memory issues.  Yesterday at lunch, the waitress came over to take our drink order and left.  A few moments later he said “did she take our order yet”.  Our menus were still sitting on the table.  He can remember things across days or even weeks, but his short term may be affected by this circulation issue in his legs – which could also be affecting his heart. If he’s losing his breath, his heart isn’t operating as well as it should.  My sister said that she’s noticed he’s had some weird memory things happen as of late, but she didn’t think it was a big deal.  He’s not a young man but still – for it to be so sudden like this, scares the hell out of me.  He had quadruple bypass in 1999 after going into heart failure, after a heart attack.  He’s had other surgeries, other heart issues, now has a defibulator instead of the pacemaker he was given a few years ago.  He’s on dialysis because his kidneys failed after a cardiac procedure a few years ago.   But I don’t care about all of that, I care about him being okay which he certainly is not right now.

I really am trying to keep myself together but in my head, I am a total and utter mess. I am totally 100% freaking out and somehow, I have to keep it together so I can get my job done today. I don’t know how to do this. Again.  I am so scared that his days are a lot more numbered than I thought they were; after yesterday, I’m really worried.  Really really worried.

I can’t lose my Dad yet.  I know that I will eventually; the man will be 82 in July so it’s not like he’s young. But still.  I can’t do this again. Not yet.