Saturday, October 3, 2009

Saturday 3 Oct. 2009

Mom’s excited. Dad’s more lucid than ever before, sitting up and recognizing people, somewhat talking, somewhat understanding what is being said around him. Mom was talking to him about Nicole and Gavin, and how they miss him and are waiting to play baseball with him.

Dad smiled and nodded. Then he tried to get up. Mom stopped him, asking him if he had to go to the bathroom. Nope, he wanted to go “Play baseball” with the kids.

Steph visited between cases. Dad lay almost quietly as the nurse came in, checked him over, and went back out again for his lunch. Then he tried to get up, telling Steph “Let’s go, let’s go, let’s go” as if expecting her to smuggle him out. She pressed him back down (trying not to laugh) and scolded him; he heaved a sigh, worn out from his attempt.

Right before Aunt Sandi and Mom went for lunch, Mom asked the nurse if Dad could be taken off of the morphine, maybe switched to vicodin. She was concerned—because Dad did not drink alcohol or use drugs—that the morphine was a bit too strong for him. The nurse said she was thinking about that herself, and would consult the doctor on it. Then Aunt Sandi and Mom left for lunch.

When they were walking back in, Mom passed several nurses who’d become familiar with her, and she talked (asking how Dad was doing) and they asking how she was doing. Dad heard her before she entered the room, and he called out to her “Honey. Honey. Honey.” until Mom responded and went into the room.

Dad said “Hi” to her, and she gave him a kiss. He also informed Mom he had to potty again. She said to go in the bed; he said “No. I need to go to the bathroom.” This went back and forth again.

Grandma, Grandpa, and Uncle Mark came to visit Dad for a bit.

Grandma went in, and Mom said, “Here’s your mom, honey.” He said “Hey” and smiled a little. He turned his (left) hand palm up. Grandma almost didn’t take it (he’d shrugged her off yesterday) but Mom said, “That was yesterday, this is today” and convinced her to take it.

Mom and Aunt Sandi left to let Uncle Mark, Grandma and Grandpa some time to visit, and to take a break.

At some point, Uncle Mark came out and told Mom that the doctor was in the room. She went in, and learned that Dad had had a minor stroke. They have no idea when—in the CATH lab, during surgery or after, it’s anyone guess—but it explains his right arm and it had contributed to Dad’s mental state.

Then they had to leave the room when Dad’s physical therapist arrived. It would take about 30-60 minutes, so they went to Target to waste time. Dad’s Aunt and Uncle (Grandma’s brother and his wife) had come to visit him, but they weren’t let in until after the therapy was over. They had a pleasant visit with Dad, Mom had heard, and they were still there by the time she left for the night.

The therapy itself wore Dad out, though most of it was just him sitting up on the side of the bed. He has no strength in his legs, and his right arm is weak; his left arm is the strongest limb of his body. Mom said he was in a cold sweat when she got there.

When Mom went back in after the therapy session, Aunt Sandi went in with her. They helped the nurses keep a struggling Dad from getting up out of bed. (Aunt Sandi hadn’t encountered Dad like this before, and was taken aback; she also informed Mom to rest more often.)

Mom kept calling Dad’s name, and he finally responded with his (well known) irritated “What?” and his look.

She asked him, “Do you know where you are?”

He said [irritation lacing his voice], “Yes.”

She asked him, “Where are you then?”

He said, “The North Pole.”

At this point, Mom and Aunt Sandi had to leave to room to regain their composure—they didn’t want Dad to see them laughing.

Mom returned to the room, and continued her questions.

“Do you know who I am?”

He said [more irritation], “Yes.”

She asked, “Then who am I?”

He said, “Mrs. North Pole.” He smiled.

He went back to struggling out of bed, and they went back to calming/restraining him down.

Mom eventually said [exasperation ending her rope of patience], “Do you want me to leave?”

He said, “Yes.”

She asked, “Where do you want me to go?”

He said, “I don’t care.” And here, he smiled/smirked a little, Mom describing it as if he knew he would get in trouble for that one.

Mom teared up a bit. She went to the foot of his bed, then went back up. She asked him for a kiss, and he said, “Yes” and gave her one.

She had to leave the room then, and actually came home. She’ll be going early in the morning again tomorrow, and she claims she’s better prepared, and now knows what to expect when she goes now.

- Kim

1 comment:

  1. From really good to really bad (or, at least, from really promising to somewhat hopeful).
    - Kim


Facebook Badge