Raising a Hand

and waving at all of you out there in blogland!

I'm still here, still bobbing along in my own little journey. Nothing too exciting or blog-worthy going on (or, at least not when a CERTAIN UNNAMED BLOGGING PROGRAM will actually allow me access to my account!), thus the ridiculous level of silence over here these days.

To be honest, I've been struggling a bit this last week, as the 7th was 1 year since Dad went in the hospital. I expect I'll have some rough moments over the next few months, dealing with what's left of the "firsts" without him. It's nothing that isn't a perfectly natural part of the grieving process (blah blah psych babble), but it is something I'm dealing with - and working through - these days.

I'd like to say there's something - anything - going on with the IF front, but there isn't. Things are on hold for now, until we get Grump's school/job situation, and our financial situation, at least somewhat under control. I do have to schedule myself another follow-up appointment with Dr. Voodoo, but it's not going to be for anything exciting. He'll ask about Clomid, I'll tell him not yet. He'll ask about the endo, and I'll thankfully be able to report very minimal symptoms. Honestly, I don't even really see a reason to go, other than Dr. Voodoo told me to, and I tend to unquestioningly want to do what he tells me to.

And on that note, it's bright and sunny outside, and I need to go soak some of it in!

Role Reversal

Over the last few weeks, the Grumps and I have taken on a bit of a role reversal from last year. During the summer and fall, I was completely overwhelmed with the responsibility of managing my Dad's care. I had the support of my sisters, and fortunately we all seemed to agree on almost every decision that was tossed our way. And we were able to reasonably discuss those handful of things that we weren't on exactly the same page about, reaching a compromise that we all could be genuinely satisfied with.

I'm learning just how fortunate I am that we were all able to work together in this way, and that we're even more fortunate to be able to continue to build a sister relationship in the aftermath of losing Dad.

Sadly, it has become painfully obvious over the last few weeks that not all families work this way.

Grumpy's mom is ill - has been for a long loooooooooooooooooooong time. I'm not going to go into too many details here, at least not the specifics, as they aren't my details to share. Just believe me when I say that she's ill.

She's been hospitalized for almost 3 weeks now. In that time, she's had 2 separate extended ICU stays, a dialysis treatment, a surgery, 24 hours on a ventilator, countless medications, and we almost lost her more than once. She's on the long, slow road to recovery now, and we're realistically hoping that she'll be able to go home within the next week or 2.

On the flip side of her almost miraculous recovery (especially this week), is the damage that's been done to the immediate family. Lies have been told, wishes ignored, fights started, secrets kept and betrayed... All levels of human interpersonal ugliness have been explored and exploited. And here I sit, just to the outside of the immediate inside (does that makes sense? let me try this: I'm more involved on a daily basis than Grumpy's siblings because of proximity, but obviously I'm not her daughter, so I try not to take on too much responsibility, or step over the bounds of my "appropriate" role.), wondering what I can do to help, who I should support, and how to do it.

Obviously, my first responsibility is to Grumps. I'm the one that needs to keep things running on our homefront, so that he has a safe place to be without adding additional stress (he was FABULOUS with this for me during the Dad saga). I need to be his place to unload, get angry, be scared, whatever. That part I'm certain of.

But after Grumpy, who should be my priority? I work for his Dad, his Mom is ill and needs all the support she can get, his siblings aren't here in town and feel a bit out of the loop, when his niece or nephew are in town they sometimes need time away from the stress of Grandma being in the hospital. And to be honest, sometimes "choosing sides" isn't an option. Sometimes I'm so disgusted by someone's behavior that I can't stand to hear them, let alone be supportive. Sometimes someone is being so needy and dependent about the circumstances that I want to shake them to remind them that we're ALL going through this.

Sometimes I want to sit in a corner and cry, because Grumpy's Mom is going to come home, and my Dad didn't. And maybe that's what my problem is in all of this.

Maybe it's not my responsibility to be mediator, to take sides, to try to support everyone. Maybe it's ok to just be Grumpy's wife, and to do my best to make sure that HIS needs are met.

Is that ok?

Well, I survived!

Better than that, I think cousins night was a HUGE success! Everyone asked when we could do another one (which isn't going to be soon, unfortunately. trying to coordinate school breaks, work schedules, soccer, softball, band practice, etc etc etc is HARD!)

I was able to let go of my need to control EVERYTHING, and we all just hung out, watched movies, played games, laughed, and generally enjoyed each other. Don't think I could have asked for a better night! (Other than having the good sense NOT to try to sleep on the floor with all of them. What the hell was I thinking?)

I'm also surviving today. This would've been Dad's 80th birthday. I got a little teary eyed last night (over an episode of Scrubs of all things), but am holding it together ok today. I'd rather be home, but... oh well.

And, for anyone keeping track, today would have been testing day, but it's cd3. The good news is that last cycle was a textbook 28 days, so apparently Dr N is some kind of magical voodoo doctor or something, because I don't think I've had a 28 day cycle since I was on bcp.

This cycle, more good ol' fashioned "trying on our own". If it doesn't work, next cycle will be another HSG (my 3rd, for anyone keeping track), and then we'll have to see what happens after that. Personally, I'm leaning towards NOT getting into treatments right away, with the whole school/finances situation being what it is. And as long as the HSG comes out ok, and my cycle lengths stay normal, I don't see a reason to jump to treatments for a few months. Maybe I'll add in some temping or OPKs, but not much more than that until summer. Or, at least that's my line of thinking right now...

Random-ish

That whole "non-smoker" thing? Out the window... I'm a bit sad that I was unable to stick with it again, but I know that I'll get there, either in my own time, or with the proper motivation (you know, like a pregnancy...)

Grumps and I are gearing up for the holiday insanity. The next 4 days are jam packed with family obligations, visits with friends, and hopefully some fun and quiet time in there, too. I expect that it won't be my Best Christmas Ever, as I'm sure there will be a few moments of missing Dad that give me pause. But, I also expect that I'll get through it, and I'll have some fun, and all will be well.

Still waiting to ovulate (I think... I'm not doing anything that would tell me I have (charting, temping, OPKing), but I also don't *think* I have yet), and therefore still enjoying those "pre-ovulation activities" that folks enjoy when they're taking a break from the infertile label and attempting to make a baby the old fashioned way.

So, here's to Family Friends, Fun, Cocktails, and Baby-Making! And may you all have a Merry Christmas, or a Happy Hanukkah, or a Fabulous Bottle Of Wine, or whatever makes ya happy this time of year!

The 5 Stages

Denial, Anger, Bargaining, Depression, Acceptance

I'm learning that it's not a linear journey through the stages. You're not able to work your way through one, and "check it off the list". You can cover multiple stages at a time, or you can rest "comfortably" in one stage for days, weeks, months at a time.

I'm learning that no matter how you explain it, or how much you share, some people just can't/don't/won't get it. Those people, as much as you love them and they love you, can't help.

I'm learning that no matter how little you say, or how far you withdraw, some people do genuinely get it. These people should be treasured and cherished for the gifts that they are.

I'm learning - the hard way - that grieving multiple things at the same time seems to snowball, to tie those things together in ways that maybe they shouldn't be. That it seems to multiply the pain of 1 loss by a factor of another.

And I'm learning that this outlet - this opportunity - to put my words out there, to be heard, to be understood - is far more valuable, and healthy, than I ever would have imagined. So many of you, by leaving a comment or sending an email or tweeting some silliness, are helping me through this, to find my way to the coveted acceptance. And for that, I am eternally grateful.

It hit me last night...

My Dad's gone.

I'm 30 years old, and I don't have a Daddy anymore.

And that? PISSES ME OFF!

Never another Christmas breakfast with him.

No more meals at his favorite little diner, where he has to introduce us to everyone.

No more watching his face light up around babies, or dogs.

And? And another person that is important to us, that our children will never know.

I miss my Daddy.

His Last Day

Monday, October 27, 2008

My phone rings at 5:30 in the morning. Startled awake, I have just enough time to think "this can't be good news" before I answer the call.

Dad has fallen, again. The fifth time in about two weeks. But this fall brought along the first injury. Seems as though he pulled his catheter when he fell. Not all the way out, but enough that the nursing staff had to remove it and try to reinsert it. Except that upon removal, they notice blood in his urine. Their first call was to the ambulance company, and the second call was to me.

Looking back on it now, I feel like a complete shit for what I'm about to admit. Instead of immediately getting dressed, or at least jumping in the shower, I went back to sleep. My alarm went off at 6:30, and I got up and had my morning coffee as usual. Debated the necessity of even GOING to the hospital... after all, they were just going to check him out, admit him for a few days, and then release him back to rehab. We've been down this road before. Do I really have to be there?

As it turns out, yes.

I got to the hospital around 7:30, but the door to Dad's ER triage room was closed. The nurses were in "cleaning him up". After a few minutes in the hall I was able to go in and see him.

But it wasn't Dad.

He was completely incoherent. Mumbling about needing his weapon (Dad was a wartime vet, serving during the Korean War both in Korea and in Germany), and about cleaning the lockers, and several other conversations that I couldn't make out details of. He didn't acknowledge my presence, at all. This was a first, and a painful one.

Doctors and nurses came and went, orderlies took him for x-rays and CT scans, blood was drawn and sent to the lab, and the decision was made to admit him.

I think it was around 11am when we finally got him up to the medical floor. The floor doctor and his RN were both incredibly kind, typical of the hospital staff we've encountered all along at this facility. The nurses had trouble getting his blood pressure on the digital machine, (not uncommon, especially when Dad was sick), so went off to find one of the old manual machines. And then another, and another. After 2 RNs, 3 LPNs, 6 machines, and at least 30 minutes, they finally got a reading.... 48/21.

Insert much hooplah and rushing around, including IV fluids and talk of a transfer to ICU. Dad seemed to respond to the IV fluids (his blood pressure came up to about 65/35), but it was still clear that he needed to be moved to ICU. The floor doctor pulled me out into the hall to ask how "aggressive" the family wanted to treat this situation. I mentioned the patient advocate form on file, naming me as decision maker, and clearly stating no CPR, no defibrillation, and no mechanical ventilation. The doctor seemed satisfied, and went off to do doctorly things.

I knew the transfer was going to take a little while, so I asked the nurse if it would be alright if I ran to the cafeteria to grab something to nibble on. She agreed that the timing was right, and that it was a good idea, stating I was likely "in for a long day". Upon returning to the floor after my quick lunch escape, I discovered the nurses getting him ready to move...

and off to the ICU we go.

More nurses, doctors, exams, blood work, paperwork. More incoherent mumbling from Dad, and still no sign that he's even aware of my presence. An hour or so passes, his blood pressure continues to fall, and the floor doctor comes in to see me. By this time it's clear that although the IV fluids are helping his blood pressure, it's worsening his congestive heart failure, and adding fluid to his already damaged lungs. I'm presented with 2 options:

1. Move to "heavy-duty" heart medications, in hopes of stabilizing his blood pressure through means other than the fluids that are quite literally drowning him. I asked the doctor what this choice would mean, and was told that it would require a painful procedure to start a central line through Dad's groin, and that the medications may help to stabilize him for "a while". When I asked if it would make Dad better, the doctor was unable to even make eye-contact, let alone give me an answer.
2. Do nothing, and call in hospice care.

I told the doctor that I needed some time to speak with my sisters, and that in the meantime I wanted them to do what they could to keep Dad comfortable, and hopefully keep his already precarious condition from slipping further downhill.

It's about 4 in the afternoon now, and after a few phone calls, Dad's 3 girls decided that he'd been through enough. The palliative care specialist had been to see him, and me, and said that she'd come back to see Sis1 upon her arrival at the hospital.

Less than an hour later we were in the little family conference room on the ICU. Talking of officially calling hospice, and whether or not we were looking at hours or days, and what kind of medications were recommended to try to keep Dad as comfortable as possible.

Sis1 sent Grumpy & I off to take a break & get some dinner around 5:30. She insisted, as I had been there for 10 hours already, and clearly needed a rest. By the time we returned around 7, all of the monitors and IVs had been removed, and we were just waiting on the transfer to a private room.

That transfer came around 8:45pm. Dad's breathing had gotten even more labored, so I requested a shot of morphine. He got his "good drugs" (as I call them), and off we went. By a little after 9pm, we were settled into the private room, Dad sleeping (or unconscious... probably the latter) and breathing heavily, me sitting and watching him.

At about 9:15, I noticed a change in his breathing. It switched from being labored and rattly, to almost... delayed. I remember there being enough time between breaths for me to think "was that it? is he gone?", and then he'd fight to take another breath.

At that point, I reached out to touch his leg, and my Dad & I had our last conversation. The details of that conversation are mine, and mine alone. But I will say that when I was done talking to him, Dad took one last breath, and was gone.

and here I am

back to work for the first time since move day (way back on October 24). Feels a little strange, but in a good way. If you excuse the DESPERATE desire for a freaking NAP this afternoon.

There is lots that I want to write about here - Dad's last day, the service, all of the arrangements, the newly developed and VERY strong bond I have with my sisters - but all of that writing will require much more energy than I have this afternoon.

I just wanted to get something posted to let you all know that I'm working my way back to normal, and that I appreciate all of the kindness that each and every one of you has shown me over the last few months, and especially the last few days.

Thank you, very, very much.

Gone

January 7, 1929 - October 27, 2008

More to come on the topic, I'm sure, as I process all of it.

Know that I thank you - very much - for all of the kind words, thoughts, and prayers over the last few months.

Puppy Crisis Averted

at least for now. I still want one - really really want one - but I have myself talked out of it for the time being.

Just a quick update style post:

• I get my LAST Lupron injection today! WOO-FREAKIN-HOO!!!! And thank the Lord, because our new insurance wasn't going to cover it the same way (if at all). The amazing staff at Dr. N's office happened upon a sample from a drug rep, and its MINE ALL MINE! 4 weeks from today, I will be OFF THE MED! (I think... I suppose I'll have to wait & see how it all works its way out of my system.) November will usher in some good ol' fashion TTC in our house (possibly accompanied by either BBT charting or OPKs, but nothing more involved than that).
• Grumps has had bunches of side work come in, so we're doing remarkably well financially. Not high on the hog by any stretch of the imagination - but things are flowing in a way that has allowed us to leave our savings in tact, and to even continue making some progress on the BIG UGLY DEBT.
• Dad is still in rehab. He asked Sis1 yesterday to take him to his apartment, and then got mad when she wouldn't. She & I discussed the possibility of taking him there for a while this weekend, but the more I think about it, the less comfortable I am with it. There are a whole lot of unknowns in a situation like that, and they all scare the holy bejeebus outta me.

And, to close with my Perfect Moment of last week:

Grumps had a former co-worker stop by Sunday morning (to pick up the car repair FROM HELL). Because of this, we were delayed for our normal Sunday breakfast date with friends, so I brewed a pot of coffee. I poured Grumps a travel mug full & took it out for him (like I do quite often), but this morning, his eyes LIT UP, and he said "Thank You SO MUCH Honey! I love you!".

Made me all warm & fuzzy!

too many decisions

I had a meeting at the hospital yesterday, with Dad's social worker, K, and the Palliative Care Coordinator, J.

Dad is still very, very sick. His lungs will be an ongoing problem because of the COPD. His heart, although functioning normally now, will also need to be closely monitored because of his irregular heart beat and congestive heart failure. Because of the blood clot in his arm, he will always need to be on closely monitored blood thinners. His liver abcesses have healed, but will always hold the potential for disaster. His kidneys and urinary tract are always in danger of failing and infection, as his prostate is enlarged to the point of needing surgical intervention. He is far too sick to handle surgery, so the only option is to keep him on a catheter. His feeding tube will keep him hydrated and meet his most basic nutritional needs, but it will not provide him with the additional energy needed to build up his strength.

He still wants to go home. He told us yesterday that he's going to be in the hospital for a few days, then go to rehab for a few days, and then he'll be able to go home.

His reality is that he'll never again go home. He will likely leave the hospital to go to rehab. But, he won't be able to keep up with the pace of rehab, and will be forced to a) leave the facility, or b) private pay (not an option). He will then have the choice of "going home" where he will need to private pay for 24 hour care, or going to a medicaid available nursing home. The only other option, which Grumps & I are discussing (but have not yet mentioned to Dad), is for him to come home with us. In this situation, someone could be with him round the clock, and he'd have the funds to pay for some specialized care (light physical therapy, specialized nursing care, nursing assistant to help with bathing, etc). Any of the above options would allow us to call in hospice, when the time is right.

My heart wants to go for the last option. I want to bring him home, and let him sit in his recliner and smoke his cigarettes and drink his coffee and watch a college football game. My head is TERRIFIED of doing this. Can I handle bringing my Dad home to die? Can Grumps & I handle the stress that this set of circumstances would undoubtedly put on us as individuals, and on our marriage? I would still need to work, so is it fair and right for me to ask Grumps to do SO MUCH of the care-taking during the day?

I honestly don't know what to do. There are so many options, choices, decisions to be made. And I'm simply incapable. I feel as though whatever path I choose will be the wrong one - either for Dad, or for Grumps & I.

Still Alive!

Sorry for the blog silence... it's been a crazy couple of weeks.

I'm still fighting whatever this viral funk is, but I am definitely feeling better. I worked a full day yesterday for the first time since last Monday! Needless to say, I'm SWAMPED!

The office move is progressing nicely! We set a new record (especially for our-indecisive-selves) and had out carpet, paint, and Formica picked out in a day. The telecom folks were at the new place yesterday getting us all wired in, the landlord was there ripping out the old carpet, and the painter was there getting set up. This time next week, the new suite will be painted, and carpet should have arrived (but probably won't yet be installed). We're all getting pretty excited about the change!

Dad is still in the hospital. I haven't seen him since our trip to the ER with him on Monday (don't want to expose him to whatever this funk is that I'm fighting), but I have a call into his doctor to get the latest info.

AND - prepare yourselves - but I actually have GOOD NEWS!

Grumps found out yesterday that he was accepted into the tuition assistance program! There's still a whole mess of legwork to be done, but he should be starting at the local community college in January! He's SO excited! And it warms my heart SO MUCH to see it!

WAHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

Oh, and as a total aside, I've made little bits of progress on my 101 in 1,001. You can check it out here, if you're interested.

I'm Alive!

Even though much of this week hasn't felt like it.

Went to the doctor, who was concerned that I had either strep throat or mono (umm, 30 going on 13, perhaps?). Turns out it is neither. Just a nasty virus that has kicked my arse, and that I must let run its course. Fun.

I'm drinking lots of clear fluids, and getting lots of rest (thank GAWD for the DVR, and my complete Sex & The City on DVD collection... movie releases on Tuesday! WOOHOO!!!), and not doing much of anything else.

Grumps is north for the weekend, enjoying a special early hunting season. I guess we have a population issue, as the DNR doesn't often issue early seasons. Late? Sometimes (and we have one of those this year, too). But this is the 1st early season we've heard of, and Grumps has been hunting for 7 or 8 years now. The good news is that he got a deer his first morning out. So there will be chili in our menu this week, and the pressure is off for the rest of the season (read: through January 1). Yes, there will still be hunting, but my husband won't be the crazed, maniacal, target fixated fool he's been in years past).


In other news, Dad is back at rehab from his few day stint in the hospital. I haven't been able to see him in about 10 days, due to the ick that has taken residence in my body. Nor have I been able to talk to him, as he didn't seem to want to ANSWER HIS PHONE in the hospital (ARGH), and the rehab doesn't have phones in the patient rooms. I'm going under the assumption that no news is good news, as when things were going badly last week, my poor little cell phone rang itself silly. I'm hoping to be able to stop in & see him tomorrow, even if only for a short visit.


On the infertility front (what? this chick is STILL infertile? umm... yeah.) I had Lupron shot #5, and another surgical follow-up earlier this month. Doc says I'm healing well, and that I'm due for a Pap (umm, yay?), so I need to come in to see him about 4 weeks after my last shot (I'll see him again on Nov 3). I asked about scheduling the HSG, and he wants to put it off until after the Pap. His exact words were "I'm hoping to put it off long enough that you'll conceive naturally and won't need it." Isn't he cute?

I think that pretty much covers everything right now. Grumps has his 1st one-on-one with his MI Works case manager next week (Wed, I think), so a few good thoughts sent his way for that will be MUCH appreciated!

A Pox on My House

The Grumps is sick - has been for several weeks now. What started off as seasonal allergies turned into an upper respiratory thing. Fortunately, he's on the upswing, and I figure he'll be back to 100% by the end of the week.

I'm sick. And I do mean sick. Sore throat (complete with lovely looking white bumps on my tonsils), stuffy head, slight cough, chest congestion, generally icky. Home from work today, doctor appointment this afternoon, throat culture (I'm sure), 2 week course of antibiotics, and I should be well on my way to dandy.

********************

Dad is back in the hospital. Went in Friday to do some more tests, and hopefully drain off some of the fluid in his lungs. I haven't been able to get a hold of him by phone - and clearly can't go see him - so I'm not sure how he's feeling over the last couple of days. Words like "bi-lateral plural effusion" and "congestive heart failure" have entered the discussions. Still very much one day at a time right now.

********************

On another note, I must publicly apologize to HAP. Although their rules are more stringent than Medicare, and I certainly wouldn't recommend anyone opting for their coverage over Medicare, they do have some saving grace... We got Dad's hospital bill for his 5.5 week stay. $158,000 total. His balance? $250.

Thank the Lord for health insurance!



And just a bit of housekeeping - Mel was right when she directed you all here for birthday wishes last week. My birthday is Sept 9. The Perfect Moment Mondays post was just referring back to that day.

My Daddy's Last Name is NOT Warbucks!

Heh.

Got a call yesterday from the social worker at Dad's rehab. There is a chance that his insurance (note to readers: avoid HAP Senior Plus LIKE THE PLAGUE!!! IT IS EVIL!!!!) will cut him off on Friday.

Apparently, Dad has "plateaued" in therapy, and they don't like that. Let's ignore the fact that he's still fighting a liver infection (or possibly a new infection... his fever is back), he still isn't capable of being on his own, still on IV antibiotics and a feeding tube and a catheter and oxygen, and NOBODY has tried to teach him how to manage those things for himself. Oh, and let's not forget that he's only eating about 200 - 250 calories a day, because EVERYTHING seems to upset his stomach. Nope, we'll ignore those things COMPLETELY! Because he's been walking 100 feet at a stretch for a week now, and he should be at 125!

Ahem.

So, I called the business office this morning, to see what private pay would cost him. As of 2 weeks ago, Dad's doctors and therapists thought he's need another 3-4 weeks at rehab (but, you know, HAP knows better?), so I wanted to have an idea what it would cost him to stay there for the time all the professionals thought was appropriate.

Here's the rundown:

• Semi-private room: $6,758 per month
• Private room (which is what he's in now): $8,680 per month.

Both of those fees include nursing care, food, and the room.

EVERYTHING ELSE IS EXTRA!

• Therapy (physical, occupational, speech): $30 per 15 minutes
• Incontinence supplies: $6.61 per day
• Feeding tube care & supplies: $7 per day
• Medications: no idea (but, undoubtedly, a WHOLE FUCKING LOT)
• Doctors care: no idea (see above note)
• Catheter care & supplies: no idea

I have NO IDEA what we'll do now. I honestly don't think he can afford to stay there. But I KNOW that he can't be on his own yet. Another facility? Home with private nursing care? My house (gasp)?

So much going on, lots to say about it.

Oh - where to begin?

Dad is still in the rehab/nursing home. We (the 3 of us girls) had a care conference with the social worker, charge nurse, and occupational therapist on Tuesday morning. Apparently, Dad's not been all that cooperative with therapy, and it's getting to a point where he could be at risk for not getting insurance approval to stay there. If that happens, then we have to get him on medicaid, and put him in a full-fledged nursing home.

After the care conference, Sis2 & I went with Dad to his group physical therapy. It's the first time I've seen him during therapy, and I was pretty impressed. He was doing the exercises pretty well, I'd say in the top 20% of the group. And then he got winded. And then he couldn't catch his breath at all. And then he got scared. And then? Then he was done. "Take me back to my room, I'm done for today", frustrated, angry, terrified... done.

Once we got him back to his room, and he settled down a bit, we had a heart-to-heart-to-heart-to-heart. We did our best to make it clear to him that he still has the opportunity to get better and go home, but HE has to do the work to get there. He not only has to do what's asked of him, but he has to take the initiative to do more for himself. It's ok to have to ask for help, but he can't keep expecting people to do for him, and he can't keep leaving therapy early. It seems to have helped, as Sis2 spent the afternoon with him, and he did everything asked of him in therapy, and more.

I'm not excited yet, but I am hopeful... Think of it as a delayed arrival of AF, or a + OPK... Hopeful for the potential, but very, very aware that there is a whole lot that can still go wrong.

On the Grumps front, not a whole lot has changed. He is signed up and approved for unemployment, and he should get his first direct deposit tomorrow. He attended a seminar on the education program, and was sent home with a laundry list of paperwork to complete/gather/bring to his consultation with his case-worker next month. He's adjusting to his new life at home, but is by no means happy about it. And still very much has good days and bad. We're trying to take one day at a time while keeping him focused on the things he can do to improve the situation (some certifications he's been meaning to test for, lots of house projects we haven't made the time for, etc). Definitely working hard to find & keep the balance.

Work has just turned batshit insane, as our office building was just sold and is being turned into an urgent care facility. Our lease is up at the end of October, so the last week and a half has been spent finding and seeing potential space. We think we've found where we want to go, and now have to go through the whole negotiations process (can you hear the excitement in my voice?). And then comes the moving process (more excitement I tell ya).

And, just for fun... Grump's Mom has her maintenance chemo appointment tomorrow, along with the follow-up appointment for her recent spleen CT (where she'll HOPEFULLY get some results). AND Grump's twin sister spent a few days in the hospital last week and weekend. She's home now, and the condition is one that the doctors can treat with medications. It should resolve without any lasting problems, but her medical history is complicated enough that we can never be sure of anything.

I jokingly told my Mom that I need to stop waiting for the other shoe to drop, because the fucking thing keeps dropping. At this point, I'm not so sure I was joking.

wha-huh?

Ever hit one of those points in life where planning seems like a lost cause? Or a luxury you can't afford? Yeah - I'm there.

I had all of these BIG PLANS about how I was going to get the house in better shape, and make some major progress toward bill payment, and get signed up for another continuing ed class this fall, and and and. I even had a big ol' 101 in 1001 post all written, and scheduled to run in a couple of weeks.

And then? well... life happened.

Dad's situation is still unstable. Altho, medically, he's greatly improved, his strength is G.O.N.E. My always thin father (5'7" and never more than 145 pounds) is now skinny - and not in a good way. The size medium pants my sister bought him literally FALL off of his frail body. He's still not eating anything beyond what he gets in his feeding tube (which, is another point of contention... he says they're not bringing him food. I'll bet he's not asked for it. AND, there is a dining room TWO DOORS from his room in the center. Think he could ask for some help to get into his wheelchair to go down there? Bah!), he's still having digestive system issues (and you don't want any more detail), and he's still not doing all the physical therapy they're asking if him.

I spoke with the business center at his rehab this week, and found out that his 100% pay runs out early next month. After that, he has a daily co-pay. And it's not a small one. I have no idea how we'll be able to keep him there long enough to build up his strength to go home. ESPECIALLY when he's being so uncooperative.

And, AND... the man has lost his grip on reality. Not in a frightening "not recognizing people" kind of way (thank the Lord for that much), but in a "I refuse to acknowledge that my daughters have lives outside of being at my beck and call". And let me tell you, he's become one demanding son of a bitch. Everything from "I need you to buy me new socks. And you have to bring them to me so I can approve them. But I'm not going to put them on my feet until they're washed, so you have to do that too." and "I need tennis shoes for physical therapy. Not gym shoes, tennis shoes. I don't like the shoes you brought me (the ones he had at home), so buy me new ones. But I don't know what kind." to "Do my laundry. I made a mess of one outfit and you're not going to like it." and "I need some money. But I don't want it here." (umm, huh?).

But his latest little demand/scheme has to take the cake. He told me yesterday that what he'd like to do is go home for breakfast, then come back for his morning therapy. Then go home again for lunch, and come back for afternoon therapy. Then go home for dinner, and come back to spend the night. Umm... WHAT? WHY does he not realize that a) it's a 20 mile round trip from the rehab to his apartment, b) my sister and I both work full time, and c) we both KNOW that if we got him out of there for ANY reason, we'd have a GIGANTIC fight on our hands to get him back! Fortunately, I was able to placate him with "I dont think you're strong enough for that right now Dad, but maybe in a few weeks". I can't WAIT to share that little conversation with my sisters!

On the Grumps front - he's gotten his unemployment totally approved, and should get his first check late next week. We've got his resume posted on the state website (required for unemployment), and he even got a call about it. AND he's signed up for a seminar next week on high-demand career educational assistance. We're waiting to see if he'll qualify for the educational program before really pushing the job hunt.

All of that is to say that all those lovely plans I had are totally out the window. I can't see until tomorrow (other than the Dad visitation schedule), let alone make any progress on any goals. Very much in "1 day at a time" mode right now.

Getting ready for the move

It looks like Dad should be moving to a "rehab facility" (code for nursing home) sometime this week. I expect the move to go well, since he's awfully darn excited about it. Since he got the news that he'd be getting out of the hospital, he's been out of bed more, eating more, and generally more talkative and cooperative.

The downside to the move is that either

1. He goes to a facility that is ridiculously inconvenient for sis & I (have to find one that will take his insurance AND his IV nutrition), or
2. He gets a feeding tube.

We're encouraging the feeding tube, as it's a lower level of skilled care, and means that we can likely get him in to a facility that is about 5 minutes from each of our homes, and my work. He's not thrilled about the idea, but he doesn't want to be on the other side of town, either.

I haven't seen him since Friday (had the weekend off, since sis is leaving for out-of-town on Tue, and won't be back to see Dad until next Mon), so I'm hoping that the decision has been made, and acted upon, and we're just waiting for moving day.

Four freakin' weeks of this, as of today, with no end in sight. The GOOD side of that is how far he's come, medically. There was a very real chance of losing him for the first 2 weeks of this saga. But, it seems as though we've gotten through that, and on to the "getting him ready to go home" part of the program....

I hope.

Rejuvenated...

... kind of.

We finally made it out of town on Saturday in the weeeeeee hours of the morning. (If it were up to me, 4am wouldn't even exist, unless that is when I'm falling into bed after a night out with friends. Unfortunately, that is when my alarm clock went off.)

Our intention was to get as loaded up as possible on Thursday, wrap up the loose ends Friday morning, and be on our way out of town by noon, FRIDAY. And, well, for a whole lot of reasons that really boil down to laziness and lack of motivation, that didn't happen.

BUT, we did have a really nice time with our friends. Good food, good conversation, plenty of testosterone laden activity to keep the Grumps happy, plenty of peace & quiet to mellow out my wound-too-tight mood, and well, everything's better with a cocktail or 2, right?



Things with Dad are about the same. The doctors put a chest tube in on Friday and drained approximately 2 liters (yes, I did just type 2 LITERS) of fluid off his lungs. Instantly, he felt better. He still has that tube, and today they were adding a tube to drain more infected fluid from his liver (this is his 2nd of this variety of tubing). He's responding well to the meds, and seems to be improving on all of his original complaints.

Now, we just need to get him to EAT REAL FOOD. And I'm sorry, but 5 spoons of mashed potatoes, 3 spoons of jello, and a sip of Carnation protein shake is NOT a meal. Because of his refusal to eat, he's back on the IV nutrition, which isn't helping to build him up at all. He's also developing some bed sores on his arm from his refusal to get out of bed, or have his position changed as often as the nursing staff would like. I can only imagine how badly his poor bottom must look after sitting on it pretty consistently for the last 22 days.

BUT, he knows that he needs to follow doctors' and nurses' orders. If he is choosing not to do that, I can't do it for him. And if he continues to make such ridiculous choices... well, he just may end up choosing not to leave the hospital. And then... THEN... I may just choose to kick his ass.

$h1t

When we were waiting for the ER docs to finish their paperwork and get him transferred up to the CCU (over 2 loooooooooooooooooooooong weeks ago now), Dad had 1 "request" (translation: demand). And I'm about to break it.

Don't I feel like a shit.

He looked up at me from that stupid hospital transport bed, and said "I'm not going to a fucking nursing home. My mother died in one, and my brother, and my sister. I won't do it. I'll step in front of a bus before I'll let that happen."

I calmed him down by telling him that all we were worried about right now was getting him admitted and into a room, so that the doctors could figure out what was going on, and get him on the mend.

Monday, a nurse approached my sisters and asked if we had looked into nursing homes. She thinks that it's time we do.

So here I sit, pretending to work, with a list of about 30 homes sitting in front of me. Some have been knocked because of location, others because I know too well their reputation. Those that remain are likely out of the question because of the expense.

I'm preparing to put my father in a home. And it FUCKING SUCKS.

This isn't something that's going to happen today, or tomorrow even. But it's coming. The social worker my sister spoke with seems fairly comfortable that it will be a temporary stay - a place for him to go when he's too well to be in the hospital, but too weak to be home on his own.

I don't know that we have any other options. If he needs round the clock care, there isn't any way that the 3 of us girls could make it happen without someone having to quit their job. Dad wouldn't be comfortable (nor would we) with any of us having to help him with his personal hygiene. Aides are expensive as all get out, and Dad has no money.

Grumps and I would be willing to have him stay with us for a while, but it has to be a "transition to home" situation. I can't have my Dad come to my house to die.

And yet, I don't want to send him to a nursing home, either.

I'm telling you, if he could get out of that bed, he'd walk his skinny little ass outside and step in front of a bus. And somehow, that would be a more fitting end for him.