Too Much

They took my dad off the breathing vent on Tuesday.  Tuesday evening when my brother and I went to the hospital we were so hopeful and excited.  We were so ready to move on the from this.  They could do the surgery on his kidney now and even though he’ll have a few months of rehabilitation to rebuild muscles, we were hopeful that we had turned a corner towards relief.

My dads spirits seemed good.  Earlier this week when he was still on the vent but not sedated he was mad at us.  When they finally took the vent out  he seemed more normal again, not mad at us, not as confused and he was trying to talk to us.  After you have a vent in though, the throat is sore and his words were not clearly understood.  Yesterday morning we were still hopeful but soon enough, that was squashed.  He seemed confused again.  He kept doing this thing with his hands and asking for something.  When we finally figured it out, he was trying to smoke and asking for a cigarrette.  My dad hasn’t smoked in years.  A few of his actions towards me reminded me of a week ago when he did not understand I was his daughter, but instead his exwife or even my mom.  We brought this up to the nurse who said the neurologist would be up to examine him.  We waited and waited to see a doctor but I had told my mom, who was watching Luke, that I would be home my noon.  Yesterday afternoon my phone rang and it was the nurse telling me that the neurologist may now believe that my dad may have had a stroke.  She said his right side considerably weaker then his left and with the way he his communicating, those are sure signs.

We actually asked the doctors that before they put him on the vent and they assured us all tests continued to come up negative and that they had tested him for a stroke already, so why again now?  Why can’t we just get an answer.  It’s getting to the point where I don’t care what the answer is, I just want one.

That’s a lie.  I want my dad back.  I’m so exhausted.  I’m tired of calling people with updates (updates that are pointless), trying to arrange sitters, leaving my husband the minute he gets home, feeling guilty that my brother is up there more than me because of Luke, feeling sick to my stomach, being hopeful one second and in tears the next.

I didn’t go back up there last night after I went in the morning.  That’s the first time in three weeks.  It will be three weeks on Sunday.  Three weeks that the doctors have no clue.  THREE FUCKING WEEKS.  I just couldn’t deal with it last night.  Rob asked me what was going through my mind and I responded, “That the last time I’ll ever have had a real conversation with my dad was at this table on January 30th, that “SHOW ME  YOUR TITS” isn’t one of the things I want to hear from him right now.”

Yeah, my dad said that to me because he didn’t think it was me, but his exwife (I asked him, who am I?  when he did that and he said her name, I quickly reminded him it was me).  I understand he is confused but it’s hard to hear and what kills me is he doesn’t ever forget who Mike is, not for a second.  Later yesterday Mike went up to visit him and tried asking him some questions that my dad was struggling to answer…age, year he was born, color of his car, things like that.  Mike started to cry and my dad started laughing.  As obnoxious and as twisted my dads humor can be, he would never laugh at his crying son.  My dad is one of the most caring people and it would kill him if he could understand for one minute what is going on.

I need to talk but every time I pick up the phone to call someone, I find myself shutting down.  No one can say anything right now to make it better.  I keep thinking, I can’ t do this anymore but then remind myself I don’t have a choice.

I’ve put off going to the probate court to get Conservatorship over my dad because…well, for one I need a sitter but for two, I keep thinking he’ll be well enough in a minute to appoint me power of attorney.  In the mean time no one will tell me anything about his finances and his long term disability will not kick in until he can call them personally or until I have permission from him.  I can’t keep waiting forever.  I keep thinking, a few more days…maybe by Friday, okay maybe by Monday.  But it’s not happening.

I want to go dancing.  I want to put on fancy heels and get with my girls for a night on the town.  I want to dance the night away and pretend none of this is happening.

Yeah right.

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  1. Ugh. I’m so sorry you’re going through this. I will definitely keep your family in my prayers.

  2. I’m so sorry.


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