Sunday, December 26, 2010

Medical Odyssey

My dad's health has rapidly deteriorated since my last post. The events of this past week are so jumbled in mind, I feel the need to document what I remember now, before it's completely lost.

Last Sunday night, my sister and I watched the Packers with Dad in his hospital room.  His chest still hurt like hell from the compressions, but he was in good spirits, and even talked about coming home after dialysis the following day. I was skeptical, but it didn't seem out of the question.

I think that next round of dialysis happened Monday, but like I said, my memory is hazy, it could have been Tuesday. Whatever day it was, his heart just couldn't take it.  He was moved to ICU and things have been critical since. His heart rate skyrocketed and he couldn't breathe. It was brutal watching him struggle. I told him all the things I wanted him to know. I'd said them all before, but I wanted him to hear them again-it felt like that time. His breathing eventually became so labored, the doctors put him on a breathing tube.

The doctors dropped a camera down the breathing tube to take a picture of my dad's heart. The results showed his heart valve (a whole other medical odyssey) wasn't functioning. He was transferred to a different hospital for surgery, and we had renewed hope. The surgery was postponed a day because his blood was too thin. They got the blood where they wanted it, and the next day was a go. They told us the operation would take 5-6 hours, so when the surgeon came out to the waiting room after an hour, I knew something was up. They had taken another picture of the valve before, and this time the valve looked perfectly fine. The surgery was aborted. This was crushing news; we were back where we'd started.

In the midst of all this, I wanted to keep Christmas as normal as possible for the girls. My family took a break from the hospital, and we managed to have a nice Christmas Eve at our house. Meg and I watched It's a Wonderful Life and got things ready for Christmas morning. We did all the normal things: presents, egg dish, monkey bread. The girls had a good Christmas, and that means a lot to me.

I spent a couple hours at the hospital Christmas Day, and then Meg and I took the girls to her parents' place for Christmas dinner. I hadn't seen my father-in-law since he left the hospital, so it was good to spend some time with him.  He was tired, but he's definitely on the road to recovery.

By the time I went to bed, my dad's breathing tube was out, and he was doing OK. I was hopeful.  Then my cell phone rang at 4 A.M. Things had taken a turn for the worse during the night. I'm not good with the medical terminology, but in layman's terms, my dad's heart still wasn't working, and the doctors were out of ideas.

We moved my dad to hospice this afternoon. They don't do aggressive treatment in hospice, which means my dad will not be doing any more dialysis. The goal now is to make Dad as comfortable as possible.  I don't know exactly when my dad's medical odyssey will finally end, but hopefully what I've written tonight will help me make sense of things down the road.

8 comments:

  1. I have nothing to offer that could be of substantive comfort to you at this time. But, please know that your family is in my thoughts and I hope your dad's passge to his next journey is peaceful, loving, and dignified.

    PMT
    http://thisthattheotherone.blogspot.com

    ReplyDelete
  2. Hi Tim - sorry to hear your dad's condition has worsened. This echoes what we are going through, my thoughts are with you.
    David

    ReplyDelete
  3. Tim, you are all in my prayers. How my heart aches for you, but you are so, so lucky that you get to spend this time with your Dad and tell him how much you love him and what he has meant to you. Keep us posted. Nubian.

    ReplyDelete
  4. Having been there with my father during his last days with heart disease, I know the confusion and the emotional roller coaster you've been on. You are in my thoughts and prayers.

    ReplyDelete
  5. The loss of a parent is too much like a tree without roots. It can send you spiralling off. It's such a frightening event. Try to hang on to those who ground you and especially those young trees YOU keep rooted.

    ReplyDelete
  6. Tim, I am really sorry to hear this bad news. I hope your Dad gets well soon. I am sure he feels that you are close and you love him.

    ReplyDelete
  7. I just wanted to tell you that I thought of you and of your dad often today ...

    PMT
    http://thisthattheotherone.blogspot.com

    ReplyDelete
  8. It is awful and soul crushing to see a parent go through this. It felt to me like the ground itself was unstable beneath my feet. Good wishes to him and to you and your family. Remember that it is important to be kind to yourself at this time

    ReplyDelete