The physical therapists came around for Dad again yesterday and were all set to try to get him to stand again. Although I'm in favor of this idea all the way, I didn't want to have his rectal tube fall out again and have him have to go through another reinsertion. So I suggested rather neutrally that it would be neat if he could do exercises in bed that would simulate standing, and Tim, the head physical therapist, agreed and did them with him.
Tim was very impressed with the strength in Dad's legs, so we are very well pleased with that. Tim also told us a funny/sad story about a guy on the sixth floor recovering from a knee replacement who wouldn't participate in PT due to crankiness from not being allowed to drink. Since the PT was essential to his recovery and had to be done immediately, the doctor wrote him a prescription for six light beers a day. Not an ideal solution, but it got the job done.
Dad also got a visit from another specialist; I thought she introduced herself to me the other day as a speech pathologist, but regardless of title, she's the one who decides what he can safely swallow. She checked his ability to control his tongue and was also encouraging... but wants him to stay mostly on pureed foods. He doesn't seem to have any particular problem with this.
The rectal tube stayed clean for over 24 hours. I mentioned this to the techs (student nurses) and they mentioned it to the nurse. After I left, she came and checked and found him to be rather clogged up. Not to be too graphic, but (brother) Malcolm reported that the situation was uh, rectified. At the moment, Dad is in dialysis so we don't get to see him until this afternoon.
In general, his spirits continue to improve. He uses more and more of his hepcat catchphrases. Last night when I left, he went decidedly un-hepcat and told me "Good night, sweet prince." I told him same to you, most decidedly.
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