Watching Papa.............

I am beyond exhausted. Abbie received her McDonald’s dinner at 10:00 last night after I arrived home from the hospital. My meals have consisted of drive-thru fast food, eaten on the freeway and an occasional piece of hospital cafeteria pizza (actually pretty cheesey and tasty) that I can choke down in the few minutes I have while the nurses are busy cleaning up Papa and they’ve asked me to step out for a bit.

It is the 9th of August and I have yet to pay my bills. There’s at least 3 days worth of mail in the mail box that I haven’t bothered to pick up. No matter. It would just join the stack of unopened mail that litters my house. Oreo sits with her ears back, clearly irritated that I haven’t fed her any of her favorite tuna canned food in at least a week. The boxers are "enjoying" dry cat food until I can get to the store and replenish the pet food for all of them. Ab insists that they "love" Oreo’s dry Friskies. I guess. And, rather than taking care of that, here I sit putting these words on paper. But, I have to.

I read two journal entries in the past couple of days that really touched my heart. Mary Louise at Watching My Sister Disappear writes so lovingly about the devastation of Alzheimer’s and the toll it takes on her and her sister. It got me to thinking about the fact that for the past two years, I have been watching my father disappear. The life is being sucked right out of him. Slowly. Painfully. Most of all, cruelly. Yesterday, at his bedside, my Aunt Mary summed it up so well when she said tearfully, "As much as he’s done for others in his life, this is just so unfair!"

On Friday, they did a CT scan and ultrasound and determined that his abdominal cavity was filled with fluids. They took him in to drain the fluid and removed 7 liters! To put that in perspective, I had to break it down to layman’s terms, using my 2 liter Diet Pepsi bottles for a comparison. That’s 3 and a half bottles full! Can you imagine? The culture came back that the fluid is highly infected. So he has "sepsis" which is making him very sick on top of all of his other issues. They have started a new course of antibiotics to fight the infection.

The past couple of days have been so difficult to watch. He has not slept in about 3 days. Yes, it’s now 3 days. I’ve watched it right along with the nurses.

He does not tolerate or process any narcotic pain reliever like most people. It seems it has the opposite effect on him and the medical staff find it so incredulous. But I’ve seen it over and over, having been at his side during previous operations and hospitalizations. A dose now and then is fine, but don’t give it around the clock, or for an extended period of time, because he becomes a zombie. Wide awake, staring at nothing but the ceiling.

He’s unresponsive and does not recognize anyone, grabbing at things, laughing and talking, pulling out tubes and trying to get out of the bed. And, it’s exhausting to watch, and knowing that a person cannot get better if they don’t rest. My friend Lisa, at Coming to Terms with Middle Age, brought it all home to me last night in her journal entry about watching her sister unsuccessfully fight for her life and having those awful memories linger, way after her sister was gone. I don’t want that to be the case here. I can’t stand to see him suffer and if this is the end, can’t they do something to give him some peaceful rest?

On Saturday, after watching this ordeal and talking with his nurse, I suggested that she ask the doctor if he could prescribe something to make him relax. The doctor prescribed Ativan, an anti-anxiety medication. Me and my big ideas! The medication compounded his problems and we were just astonished as we watched it for two hours. His nurse called the doctor again and explained how he reacted to that medication, so the doctor prescribed Haldol, an anti-psychotic. Wrong! Arrrrrggggghhhhh! It was again compounding the symptoms. I learned first hand about what synergy means when it comes to drug use.

Yesterday afternoon he was finally able to recognize family and respond appropriately to some questions. He was still not sleeping when I left last night. I am praying that the narcotics that are so toxic to him, will leave his body soon and so that he can get some blissful relief.

I am on my way to the hospital, hoping to hear that he had a better night.