No cute picture with this one, y'all. It's been a roller coaster ride. Bumpy. With no seat belt. Or those bars that always made me feel trapped.
I'll pick up where the last post left off, not that I remember. It got kinda better and then the bottom dropped out. Shernitra showed up. Sheila (once/week housekeeper) couldn't come yesterday because her husband was in the hospital, damn him. I told Shernitra - she loves Sheila - so she started doing the heavy duty housecleaning Sheila usually does. I love the smell of bleach. And Pine Sol. She changed the sheets, cleaned the bathrooms and kitchen, did laundry, vacuumed and mopped. For the first time ever, The D came into the den to watch TV to avoid the noise from the vacuum. He sat in the skunk chair. I guess he was too congested to smell it.
OMG - Just now I heard him sneeze and cough and I swear I thought he was shouting "Help me." I ran into the living room and he was fine. I asked him why he hollered "help me" and he said he was just coughing. He complained about the huge antibiotic pill hurting as it went down. I made him eat yogurt after so he wouldn't throw up. Oh, by the way, the meatloaf-vomit episode Monday night was just from the meatloaf. Shernitra ate the leftovers the next day even though I told her to throw them away. This morning when she got here, she said the meatloaf must've been bad. I hate that she was sick but at least I was able to eliminate that symptom from the current illness. I'm just a regular House M.D. You have no idea. I'll tell you more and you'll see.
Oh, the panic from hearing The D cry out is a remnant of the horrible shingles he had right after Mother died. A couple weeks after the onset, he started having shooting pains from his jaw up to the top of his head. He'd pound his foot on the floor and I'd go running and he'd be crying, "Help me, help me." It scared the holy shit out of me. It would be totally random. I couldn't sleep - I was like a soldier in a fox-hole - on constant alert for an attack. It made me crazy. I spent lots of time at the ENT's office with him and fortunately he prescribed something that works well with chronic pain. It happens to have an antidepressant effect, too, and I think that's been a good thing. But I had to titrate it up to the full dose because he was like a zombie at first.
Deb was there once to witness one of his attacks. Scared the shit out of her. I was glad she was able to see what I was going through. Bitch from hell has NOOOO idea. Screw her. Damn, I thought I'd stopped the hatin'. It's times like this that I get so enraged. And I miss mother so much. She took such good care of Daddy.
Oh, funny thing. Kinda. The day Deb was here and The D had the attack, she, for some unknown reason, decided to move a piece of furniture in the living room. I thought it was Daddy's foot pounding and ran from the den to the living room in a panic. She laughed, but apologized. I guess it helps to see the humor in things, but at the time, I couldn't.
Back to The D just now. I bought him Halls Honey & Lemon cough drops. What did they used to be called? Mentholyptis? They don't call it that any more. I think menthol's gotten a bad name. Seriously - I think it's bad for you. Still, it's a blast from the past. I took the cough drops in a little bowl and he questioned me about them and about the horse pill he'd just taken.
Ok, I'm telling this all out of order. I think I'll hit the high spots, and then I'll go back and elaborate.
1. D way confused about time of appt - he was dressed and ready at 8:30 even though I'd told him it was at 1:15 more than once. He's always rarin' to go to the doc.
2. Got work done at church client. Lots of work compressed into two hours.
Thanks to Mikie. She's way smarter and better than me. Gotta get her to sign a non-compete!
3. Shernitra called at 11:30 saying The D wanted to know where I was. I'd told him we'd leave around 12:45. This worried me a little bit.
4. Home at 12:30 and he bounded from his recliner. I told him to give me 15 minutes. Loaded Mikie up w/ work and sent her on her way. Told Daddy I was ready to go and he high-tailed it to the car. He pulls the door handle when I'm trying to unlock it and it takes about 15 times to finally get it open. Like a little kid.
5. Forgot my purse and had to go back in. I swear, I never leave the house without at least TWO trips in and out. Average is three. Purse, tote bag w/ client stuff, big plastic bin with client stuff, those laminated grocery bags with handles, my shopping list, calendar, cell phone - you name it. I need a checklist at the door.
6. We got there in plenty of time. I opened the Memphis Busines Quarterly Who's Who in Memphis Business Power Players. I'm proud to report I had met about a fourth of them and could call 10% of them acquaintances (they'd know me.) I dated two of them.
7. They called Daddy back to the exam room.
8. Dr. SAD (Stupid Asshole Dummy) miraculously appeared. I was trying to explain The D's symptoms and while I was talking, he said "Breathe in..." Not to me. To Daddy. Was he listening to his lungs and me at the same time? No. I was being ignored. The worst thing anyone can do to me is to ignore me. See why I hate him?
8. Some inept person started jabbing needles into Daddy's arms and dropping half full vials of blood on the floor. Seriously. He was all tensed up. She told him to relax his fist. Right. I said how many more? She said, "I have to get four." I said, "Why?" She said because they have to spin them in different machines. I figure it's more like - we need a couple spares in case we lose them or mix them up or drop them on the floor one time too many. Poor Daddy was moaning, so I reached around the large inept one and held the hand he was supposed to be relaxing.
9. After a few minutes, another, not so inept one, appeared to take Daddy for an x-ray. I held his hand - he didn't seem too steady on his feet and hasn't eaten much in three days.
10. The D reappeared and not-so-inept-one said he could put his shirt back on. I helped him get his t-shirt on and then his sweater. We struggled over them - he was trying to get them straight, but I had them ready to pop over his head. It reminded me of Kiddo as a toddler.
11. I noticed that he smelled really sour. Come to think of it, I haven't seen any wet towels in the laundry in a while. Since just takes a shower after he poops, I asked him about that. Of course, he'd barely eaten anything for three days. I told him to let me know before he took a shower and I'd come help him in case he got light-headed. That I'd turn my head, of course. This must be hard for him, too, to be mothered by his daughter.
12. Dr. SAD came in and started writing. He said there was some fluid on his lungs but it wasn't pneumonia. He wrote a scrip for antibiotics and some kind of "pearls" to suppress the cough. I asked for cough syrup with Codeine. Didn't say so, but I wanted it for me.
13. SAD said D would be fine. I asked him to step into the hall. I said, "I'm worried. Last time, he fell in the shower and wound up in the hospital. He's been getting much worse so quickly. He seemed very confused about the time this morning. He's not eating. He's not taking his daily walks." SAD said, "He'll be fine." I said, "How do you know?" He said "Don't worry." I said "Give me your cell number." He said, "Just call the answering service. I'm on call." I said, "Just give me a fucking reason to sue your sorry ass, you bastard." Ok, I made that last one up. I could go on and on about dude, but The D would be furious if I changed doc's, and there are political reasons involving extended family traitors (his wife is a FaceBook friend of Bitch from Hell."
14. I asked SAD if they had results of bloodwork (including blood clotting test I asked for) and he said they'd be back tomorrow. I'm sure I'll have to call his nurse/bitch, who it turns out, is his secretary. WTF? Since when did secretaries get to wear scrubs? It's bait and switch. Or something. Verrry misleading. I've had to open multiple cans of whoop-ass on her. Bitch has an attitude.
15. I took Daddy to Wendy's drive-through. He got a big chocolate frosty and a chili. Chili smelled gross, but I was glad he wanted it. Took him home. Fixed his tray. Headed to the pharmacy. They know me well. I gave them the scrips and did a little shopping. Ice cream, chocolate syrup, a mechanical pencil for me (I know it's weird, but that's my way of pampering myself), and of course, some cold beer. Oh, kitty litter, pet odor cleaner stuff (for skunk chair) and the Hall's cough drops.
16. Schlepped this crap back to the pharmacy and asked Dr. Dale if my shit was ready. He said, "Let me get this call from a doctor's office." I said, "Tell them to wait." He ignored me. When he finished, he said there were problems with two of the three scrips. Natch. SAD didn't specify strength on cough suppressant pearls. And they didn't have the cough syrup with codeine in stock. Fuck. Being the Dr. House that I am, I asked Dale why SAD would give someone with fluid and congestion in their lungs a cough suppressant. Wouldn't it be better to loosen it up? An expectorant, maybe? (I swear, I know more than SAD, but that's not saying much.) He said, "Yeah, it seems like it." I went off on SAD. He said they'd called SAD's office and told them I was waiting, but I'm sure they got the secretary's VM. I told him, "When they call back, tell them to catch a clue and then deliver the fuckin' meds to my house."
17. At the last minute, I remembered that my brand new, handy-dandy, light-up, quick-read thermometer (which I got during the shingles phase), had a dead battery. I whipped it out and went to the battery section. Couldn't find it. Asked some drone in a red vest to help me, and she was no help.
18. I went by the battery place. That's ALL they sell - batteries. They didn't have the fuckin' battery. He checked the computer and not a single store in their fucking chain had this elusive battery. Dammit. I asked him to call Radio Shack. He said, "They won't have it." They did.
19. Headed home with most important things. Antibiotics and beer.
I think there's more. Did I tell the part about calling the pulmonologist for a second opinion? Still waiting. He was at hospital on rounds. He's a mensch. Love him. Mother loved him. Stories about that. He came to see her on the hospice unit, even though he hadn't been called for a consult. So sweet. He had some kind of rotation on the unit and saw her name and stopped by. For the hell of it. Gotta love him.
I think I might need to write a part II. So much more to tell...
Welcome to my world!
My life's been crazy since my Daddy moved in with me immediately after my mother's death in October 2010. My one and only kiddo headed to college at Carolina at the end of August. So...I lived on my own, for the first time in my life, for a total of a blissful six weeks. Then, I started the parenting gig with my dad. He's a combination of a grouchy old man, a surly teenager and a temperamental toddler. Needless to say, I get very close to the brink of insanity sometimes. I get through life by finding the humor in difficult circumstances. And for some reason, I wind up in the weirdest situations. I couldn't make this stuff up. So I wind up having lots and lots crazy adventures which make great stories to share with my friends. Writing about my life is so therapeutic. My ramblings range from funny to sad to angry (full of cuss words) to sweet. While my focus is dealing with the trials and tribulations of being a parent to my Daddy, I have lots of random, totally unrelated posts. Whatever's on my mind. I love to make people laugh, and I'm happy to think my readers will get my strange sense of humor. And maybe, people who are in my situation will be encouraged. That's all I can hope for...