The coaster rolls on

    So last night, Dad called Margaret and again said that he just couldn't stand dialysis and wanted to stop it and go to hospice. I called him and asked him just not to do anything drastic until I can try to make it better. He agreed to that. So this morning I called the dialysis facility and told them this. The office manager was trying to get me to call a hospice for advice on rousing his fighting spirit and I pointed out that what I needed was ways to improve his experience such that he wouldn't be in agony. She let me talk to the nurse.
    The nurse was amenable to letting him sit on a pillow, and further suggested that he be given a painkiller before leaving Lowman for dialysis. I pointed out that I couldn't order Lowman to do either and that my chief concern was to get these procedures in place by Friday so that he would be willing to continue dialysis at all. She volunteered to call and talk to the nursing supervisor on his unit.
    Anne then talked to the doctor at Lowman, who also agreed that Dad should be on a painkiller even when not going to dialysis. We are also continuing to try to get him a mattress that will fit him.
    So I went and talked to him and he agreed to try dialysis at least one more time. And I talked to the head nurse about whether they could do without the diapers (which seem to be worsening his pressure sores); she agreed to try leaving them off at night. So after an extremely pleasant day yesterday, we had an extremely stressful evening, night and morning, but things seem to be under control again. Maybe. (Note: when you're tired, all sentences begin with "So.")

Alarming day ends well

    Yesterday morning, I got a call from a nurse at Lowman Home saying that Dad had talked to the doctor there and said he wanted to stop dialysis and enter hospice. They were ending all his medications but morphine would be available to him for pain. I was gobsmacked; when I put out the word to siblings and Margaret, they were equally so. We planned on talking him out of it; Anne who was closest set out to talk to him.
    As it turned out, what Dad said was that he didn't want to go to dialysis TOMORROW (now today). After that, it was all miscommunication. The doctor apparently hasn't noticed that Dad is very hard of hearing, nor that he tends to answer yes to whatever he is asked. There was some rigmarole, but we got him reinstated at dialysis and I had the pleasure of telling the hospice people (when they called), no, not yet.
    Cannot begin to express our degree of relief. Nor how mad we were. I expressed some of that to the social worker at the facility in hopes that nothing of the kind EVER happens again. And we're starting the process of getting him relocated to Rice Estate, which is under the same ownership but the experience there three years ago was much better. I was planning this anyway to get him away from Irmo Dialysis, whose work we aren't happy with either.
    Sure I'm still mad, but this time yesterday, I thought my dad was going to be dead two weeks from now. So I'm so relieved I'm jaunty. And maybe we can get his care improved now and his physical therapy reinstated. Maybe.

Morons again

    And I was going to tell you all about my dreams! Aren't you disappointed? I went to SCE&G to try to change Dad's billing address. They needed a copy of the power of attorney. I explained that I was trying to get them paid, not trying to get anything from them. I guess it could be an element of identity theft, but I had just paid his rather large bill. It seems like a cunning plan worthy of Baldrick to pay out money to get nothing back. Regardless, the business office is just around the corner. I can easily bring the PoA around when I pay my own light bill in a few weeks. Just an unnecessary PITA.
    Anyway, the better dream leaked right out of my head when I had a further weird wacky dream. In this one, I was back in school taking a class that was totally pointless. Instructor required a lot of expensive textbooks, which he ignored entirely. I hijacked the class and made it all about old-time radio, presumably because of the shows playing in my real-life sleep. But I was annoyed and decided I wanted my money back. One of the textbooks, I just held out the window while driving (on a street called Adger Road, which is the name of the street where my high school is located even though it looked totally unlike the real street and the dream was otherwise about Penn) and somebody offered me more money than I paid for it. So I deducted it from my claim. I liked the fact that instead of the traditional "OMG, I don't understand this class and now the finals are coming! What do I doooooo?!" response, I just wanted my money back.
    There was also some kind of business about trying to steal a gas station. I just remember being disappointed that it had a foundation because that would make it harder to steal. Maybe it was part of the class.

Food fun

    I don't usually eat out for lunch and dinner. (Or dinner and supper. Or lunch and supper. Or the afternoon meal and the evening meal.) I usually do eat Sunday lunch at Bombay Grille, but with Paul rather than my sister and brother. My brother declined the opportunity to eat raw vegan food at Good Life Cafe for supper. Anne was at least willing to give it a go. She wasn't electrified, but liked the guacamole a LOT and also the chocolate coconut balls. She was fairly warned that the burger is burgerish and the pizza is pizzaish, etc. So we didn't have any "WHAT IS THIS STUFF?!!!" type scenes. Would have been fun, though. My favorite thing on the menu is the manicotti. As it's made with zucchini and she doesn't like zucchini, I was able to have my favorite. Although she was pleasantly surprised by the bit that she tried.
    I had weird wonderful dreams again last night, but couldn't remember any of them. I'm sure everyone is relieved.

Reset button

    Had horrible, then neutral, then amusing dreams last night. The horrible part was more like unpleasant, I guess. I was living in a tiny little home in a terrible neighborhood (nothing like real life!), more or less a shotgun shack. Somehow, one little wedge-shaped section was curtained off. Behind the curtain was somebody I would have to fight. Apparently, I would have to fight somebody daily. Also, outside in the terrible neighborhood, were ne'er-do-wells seeking to break in. The part I liked about the dream was looking for the reset button, so it was sort of supposed to be real life and sort of supposed to be a game.
    The neutral part of the dream was just a continuation. I didn't hit the reset button, but everything just receded. All the unpleasantness just went away. Of course, that also makes for a pretty dull dream. The next thing I remember was more like real life, in the sense that I had my two actual cats. Only difference was that Harry was a test tube cat. I was impressed; Amelia not so much.
    Speaking of nightmares: Downtown U. is about to play their bowl game in Shreveport. No knock on Shreveport, though we've had bad luck there in the past. But apparently the weather there is awful. Best of luck to the fellows! Maybe they can find a reset button on the season.

Crazy stupid fun

    Friend Robert and wife and son are visiting his mom in Spartanburg. I've been wanting to drop by IKEA in Charlotte to see if they have anything that would solve my minor furniture problems. (Suspense relief: they do.) And of course to eat Ethiopian, since now this town has TWO (2) Ethiopian restaurants that aren't gluten-free. The idea!
    They were amenable, Mom, too, so we went today. Unfortunately, traveling with a five-year-old is seldom trouble-free, so basically all they saw of IKEA was the cafe. But I got a good look, and we ate Ethiopian, and young Orion then got to go to Discovery Place, which he strongly desired doing. So everybody was happyish, and I was happy to see old friends. Orion is at that difficult age between 2 and 16 where he says whatever the hell occurs to him, so he told me that my teeth stick out. Fortunately, I'm one of the rare people that you can say something like that to (since I was boundlessly amused). I think what he actually meant to say was that I was smiling a lot, since I was, being delighted.
    Family travel was a little messy this time, as Anne only got to town late yesterday and Malcolm is leaving tomorrow. But we were able to get together for suppertime at a new and untried Lizard's Thicket. As they had sweet potato souffle, sweet potato fries and sweet potato pie, this was a hit, although we didn't try the pie. Malcolm pointed out that Adam Ant was a play on "adamant," which I never realized, thinking it was derived from the cartoon character Atom Ant. Of course that was probably also a pun on "adamant," but I was really small then and probably didn't know that word yet. Although by tomorrow I'll have myself convinced that I knew it all along.

Merry little

    Well that was fun! Everything came together nicely and all of a sudden, and Margaret left the house for the first time in a couple of weeks (not counting the emergency room) and was able to see Dad and to have Christmas dinner with her daughters and extended family and to see Dad again and it was all all kind of fun. Dad was not at his liveliest but he was certainly awake and alert and all kinds of glad to see Margaret again after so long. And we were all ultra pleased that the rain had gone away in favor of a totally clear and beautiful day. So huzzah! I hope you had an equally wondrous Christmas day.

Come again another day

    Rain continues. Not happy about it. Didn't walk yesterday; won't walk today. I did, however, do the exercise pedals for about ten minutes for probably the first time this year. It was funny, since Harry had never seen me use them. He was most delightfully puzzled. Much to my surprise, he never tried to pounce my foot, though.
    More to the point, I may be flooded in (as in, can't leave my neighborhood) as may be Margaret (as in, can't leave her house). This stinks, but it'll all run off. Rain is supposed to stop by tomorrow. Our statewide (regionwide) Christmas present.
    Last night, brothers Malcolm and William and I went to Pasta Fresca, a fave from pre-gluten-free days. They have gluten-free pasta now and try hard, but it wasn't the same. Still delightful, though. They also had a jazz combo because it was Tuesday. Tuning up sounded like they were going to play "Badge" by Cream; now all we want to hear is a jazz version!

Very damn funny, winter

    This is what I think of when I think of winter in South Carolina: cold rain. Lots and lots of cold rain. Days and days of cold rain. This year, just for fun, winter decided to kick off with days of cold rain. It didn't really start the minute that winter did; it just seems like it.
    Mind you, I'm very grateful that by and large, this is the worst that winter sends us. I'm not raising my hand to volunteer to move to Buffalo any time this lifetime. The mizzable rain is not my favorite, but it is seldom life-threatening. If my fellow South Carolinians had the first clue how to drive, I could make that never. Pretty big if, though.
    Then again, all morning, instead of rain there was rather cool fog. I dug the trees looming out of the mists, even though I was sorry I couldn't make a photograph out of them. So there's that.

Global warming conference

    The wackiness of my dreams seems never-ending. I dreamed last night that everyone I know and I went to New York for a conference on global warming. "Everyone I know" should be in quotes (you know, like that) because they were all fictitious and even illusionary (which I'm hoping is different than "illusory") except for one person whom I'm Facebook friends with but whom I've met in real life only once. He is concerned about global warming, though.
    We rode up on Amtrak; most of the dream concerned trying to get off the train and into NYC. As usual, the train station of my dreams was a multi-level Rube Goldberg nightmare of a mall, but the kind of nightmare I get a kick out of. What I remember best is getting off a stairway or escalator and having to get in a convertible to proceed. Moreover, I had to drive it, but only something less than a foot. Then mysteriously the doors wouldn't open; lucky thing it was a convertible! (Did I mention that the top was down?
    As far as I know, I never did get to the conference. I could have given a great presentation on sports cars in train stations. Meanwhile in real life, Margaret is getting better, but still isn't well enough to go see Dad. Dad is holding up pretty well. Because of rescheduling of dialysis around the holidays, he was off today so I went to see him. We had a nice visit, though he slept a lot. He seems more comfortable. Brother Mal is on the way, as in now, arriving within mere minutes. It will be nice to see him, though presumably that will be after he's slept off the 18-hour-plus drive. Yay!

Brain flu

    I feel like my brain has the flu. I'm tired all the time and can't remember much of anything. Today and yesterday, I had perfectly good blog entries composed in my head during my daily walks, but they had fled by the time I got back home. Thus this kind of "I've got nothing" post instead.
    I'm pretty sure it's no kind of flu at all, even though I see Margaret, who still has the flu, most days. I have practically no symptoms is the main thing. I suspect that it's just the solstice; all the darkness makes me extra tired, and the extra fatigue saps my little brain and my tiny, fragile memory.
    If so, it ought to clear up pretty fast. I always love the winter solstice, because the days get longer every day. Even though it gets colder for quite a long time, once the days are getting longer, I start feeling better. In the meantime, I'll make notes on the phone about what I'm planning to blog about. When I figure out how.

Adjustments

    My friend Michelle shared a gluten-free recipe on Facebook that sounded really appealing. Also it called for ripe bananas, which I have sometimes and have no bright ideas what to do with them since I am not a fan of the ripe ones. It called for peanut butter and honey and chocolate chips and vanilla and honey and not much else. I tried making the recipe, but found it to be chocolate chip heavy. Nice, but I couldn't taste much but the chocolate.
    I tried it again with raisins and raspberry preserves instead of chocolate chips. That didn't work so well. Just too many flavors, I guess. So yesterday, I tried it with a cup of dates and a tablespoon of cocoa. Really tasty, but really, really, really sweet. I like 'em, but then, I used to eat 10X sugar with a tablespoon. I'm not sure how earthlings will react.
    Other thing is that they're supposed to be muffins and I don't feel like buying enough muffin tins to make that many muffins or to cook that many shifts. But trying to use a pan or Pyrex dish leaves me with the middle all raw, which probably isn't too brilliant considering there are eggs in there. Also, all those thick ingredients killed my favorite blender. Ah well. So when I get the sweetness modulated, the recipe ordered such that blenders survive, and convert it back into a muffin recipe (from a brownie/ energy bar type thing), I'll post the adjusted recipe. In the meantime, I think I invented butterscotch.

Sorry about the gators

    I had some damned elaborate dreams last night. Consider yourself lucky that I don't remember much.
    Oddest thing is once again that there was a continuation even though I woke for a little in the middle. I only remember this happening once or twice in my life. There also was a certain element of comedy amidst the chaos and horror.
    In the first half of the dream, my brother William and I were tapped to join some college equivalent of Anonymous. Apparently, declining was not an option. So we were facing the prospect with some trepidation. Then we found out what this group was planning to do. They wanted to steal chalk from the cheerleaders. Just, you know, blackboard chalk. Just for the heck of it, apparently. So not the most dangerous cats ever.
    However, when I got up and went to the bathroom and then went back to sleep, things turned more sinister. I received a largish envelope which somehow transmogrified into a gigantic box, which when opened, proved to contain two live six-foot alligators. And then they proceeded to eat my younger cat before I could get him away from them. Mostly off-camera, I'm glad to say, but still not the most cheerful dream ever. This will teach you: never go to the bathroom. When I woke up, I apologized to Harry: sorry about the alligators, fella.

Obsessed with size, of course

    What? I'm talking about boots. (And clothes generally yesterday.) Of course.
    Months ago, I started getting the kind of foot pain that indicates it's time to get new boots. (The well-known broky-foot sensation.) As I probably blithered about at the time, the good folks at Mast General Store, who had sold me the boots, felt that they still had some wear in them and suggested I buy some really expensive insoles instead. They also suggested that I take out the built-in Keen insoles.
    I did the former and not the latter and the soles of my feet felt all bruisy. I did both and my feet flopped around in my boots. So I went back to plan A (double insoles) but unfortunately the bruisy sensation never did go away. Now finally I've taken out the Keen insoles once and for all, and though the boots still seem too large, the bruisiness is much better. So I suppose I'm happy.
    The thing is, the boots with one insole in should be exactly the same size as what I bought (10); I don't know why my feet would be loose in them. I've tried buying 9 1/2s before, but they were always painfully tight. So I guess I'm legitimately a size 10. The only thing that makes sense is that I broke the boots in with two sets of insoles (the original Keens plus a Dr. Scholl's) and now they're stretched out. If I hit a quiet minute, maybe I'll try out a 9 1/2 of the same boot and see how I do.
    Dad was sitting up today and was reasonably lucid. We had a visit from Santa in running shoes; he brought Dad shower gel. If we'd known he was coming, we would have left out cookies. Dad said he had been dreaming that my brother Frank had 15 children. I said, yes, I think that was probably a dream.
    I had wacky dreams of my own, like being on a toilet in front of dozens of people. The weird thing about dreams is how often weird events in dreams seem perfectly normal and workaday. Lucky thing I'm not Rob Lowe, I guess.

Average

    I'm a shade under 5' 10" and weigh somewhere around 160 pounds, which is still just about average for an American male, as far as I know. I find it weird that I have trouble finding clothes. I understand why it's hard to find clothes in thrift stores, since there are a gazillion average-sized guys looking so the racks are picked over. (What's weird, as I've mentioned before, is how much XL clothing there is for men in thrifts. Spread the word!) What's odd is that it's hard to find clothes my size in department stores. I suppose that my average height and weight don't necessarily equate to an average build; I understand that some people have shoulders. But still!
    Now I find that furniture also tends to be built for people shorter than me, on average. Of course, this might be much, much less mysterious. The limiting condition being "furniture that will fit into a Camry" and yes, I guess that might by and large be better suited to shorter people. But still, still!
    I heard from the Lowman Home that Dad's left arm is again swollen and feels hot, so they're starting him on an antibiotic. I'm glad they're paying attention and looking out for him.

Innovation!

    Hey, it only took 100 years or so! Every city I've ever visited and driven in (which limits us to North America) has a very active Department of Digging Holes and Filling Them In Again working the city streets. And often as not, there's a fairly significant gap between the digging and the filling in again. So gigantic metal plates are placed over the holes. These are sometimes hard to see and can make for an unpleasant, jarring surprise.
    Today I went over one and at the edges were orange rubber (or plastic) wedges. I don't know if it really made the passage all that much gentler (I had already slowed down both for the metal plate and for railroad tracks just ahead), but I was really pleased that somebody at least was making an effort to save our precious CV joints. I hope this thoughtfulness spreads, and salute the DODHAFTIA for their forward thinking. Now of course, somebody will tell me that all the other cities have been doing this for 20 years.
    I know I have made an effort over the years to have the minutest minutiae on my blog and that I may have just set a new standard. But wait! There's more! Last night when I opened the door to let Harry in, I heard "(jingle jingle) murf! (jingle jingle) murf!" from quite nearby, but Harry didn't appear. Then he came down the tree next to my front door, like Dan Aykroyd on the fireman's pole in "Ghostbusters." Very comical. I guess he had been gallivanting on the roof, as there aren't any leaves on the tree for birds or squirrels to hide in. Just another skill for young Harry.

Just a little sad

    I got the notification today that Dad needs to renew his driver's license (if he wants to) by his next birthday. Now he hasn't driven in 3 1/2 years, although he insisted for a long time that he was going to drive himself to dialysis. And if we're honest, he shouldn't have been driving for a long time before that. (Driving off at night with the headlights off, and stuff like that.) And even if he were getting out of the bed and getting around again, and even if he were coming home (which I still haven't quite given up on), there is no eye care professional on Earth who would certify that he sees well enough to drive. If all of those things, he could get an ID from the DoT that would be just as good for check-cashing type purposes. So it's all totally academic. But still sad.
    Not sad is that Margaret is doing much better. Not enough better for her to visit Dad tomorrow, but a lot a lot a lot better. She still insists on doing his laundry. I tell you, don't mess with the Greatest Generation!

Little things

    I didn't visit with Dad long today, partly because I had my friend Paul along and didn't want to impose. Mainly I wanted to make sure that Dad had a football game on TV, that his phones were charged, that he was comfortable, and that his clothes situation was OK. Margaret is still sick, but wasn't admitted to the hospital, so hopefully she'll bounce back soon. But I was able to let them talk on my cell phone for a little while, which was nice, too.
    I got Dad squared away, except for having his feet against the footboard. That I couldn't do anything about without a Procrustean bed, and fortunately they don't have any of those. I will see if they can get him an extra-long inflatable mattress, though. But the great thing was that he remembered Paul. He has only met Paul a couple or three times, most recently some years ago. And on the way out, he said, "Goodbye, Paul." This may seem like a tiny thing, but this is a guy who has been asking what day it is every ten minutes, or announcing the time on his clock even more frequently. I think being able to breathe is really letting him think a lot better. I was more than a little choked up. Huzzah!

Ten years

    This week has seemed about ten years long. I seem to be having a lot of those lately. This time it was because of the heaping helpings of uncertainty, and in nearly every dimension. Unfortunately, next week is not looking a lot better in that regard.
    I was hoping that getting lung function back would give Dad back some more brain function. It is possible that this will happen, but it's hard to say at this point. He's still pretty exhausted, so I haven't had a real conversation yet. He is at least more on the ball than he was at his worst, but it would be pretty hard not to be.
    Margaret finally got some sense and got her daughter Linda to take her to the hospital to find out why she isn't getting better. They found a) that she is dehydrated; and b) that she has the flu. She's probably fairly starved, too, as she hasn't been eating. No word yet on whether she will be admitted, but I imagine that she would be. I expect that food, drink and rest will have her up and around pretty shortly. Knock on wood.
    In general, I seem to be getting over the shock of the past few months' events finally. I feel a lot less paralytic than I have been, and considerably more able to cope. Of course, I'd just as well have a little grace period of not HAVING to cope, but this is unlikely at this stage. I will try to bear and to measure up.

Back to Lowman Home

    Margaret is still sick, unfortunately, but she called this morning concerned that she hadn't heard from Dad yet, since she usually does. I called the nurses' station, and it turned out that he was getting dialysis yet again, then returning to Lowman Home. So I got my groceries, started my beef stew for supper, took my walk, and headed on out.
    I got there ahead of him, since everything takes longer than it should, including ambulances. I stuck around for a half an hour, charging his phones and generally getting the place as set up for him as I could. Unfortunately, though, I had to head home to finish making my beef stew. I did have the pleasure of seeing him in the corridor on the stretcher, looking good if sleepy. Well you would be, too; I think he had five dialysis sessions in six days. I thought it best that I let him rest, but look forward to seeing him tomorrow and Sunday. Hopefully, Margaret will be well enough to come along at least one of those days, too.

Not hearin' nothin' from nobody

    It isn't exactly an eerie silence, but it is maybe a little odd. Usually I would have heard from somebody, especially on the day that Dad is expected to go back to Lowman Home. But maybe there's been a hold up. I can phone out of course, but old folks aren't so good with stuff like call-waiting and voicemail, so I prefer to wait and let them call me. Anyway, compared to the anxieties of a few days ago, this is a soft-shoe shuffle. What seems to be holding him up is that the physical therapists want more time with him. The idea as recently as a week ago that he would ever again be seeing a physical therapist seemed quite remote. So color me thrilled with the delay.
    I woke about 5 with very odd dreams. I don't think they kept me up; I think it was the noise from the HVAC blower. But I was very puzzled. I'm not sure if I was in Montreal or watching a news report, but for some reason I dreamed that Toyota does the vast majority of its import and export activity through Montreal. Even in my sleep, I cried bullsomething. Other dreams were also business-oriented, reflecting the tendency of motels to bunch up in sixes or sevens. In the dream, though, they did so every half mile or so. Apparently, the Columbia of my dreams is a tourist destination!

Hospital food

    Margaret has a bad cold today and thus couldn't visit Dad. He was driving her to distraction with phone calls about how he was starving. Apparently, his appetite has come back but not alas his short-term memory. I called and talked to his nurse who is another peach (if men can be peaches); he said Dad had had breakfast and that his lunch was on its way.
    On the whole, I was dreading visiting, but he had indeed gotten his lunch and was no longer saying things like, "I'll just sit here and starve then." He wasn't well pleased with the food, though, pretty much reprising the old joke, "The food here is TERRIBLE! And such small portions!" He's most likely going back to Lowman Home tomorrow.
    Honestly, I don't know. He looks much, much better, and his speech is much clearer and more coherent. But he blanks out on words like "dialysis." It's still a bit worrying. Still, compared to Sunday, when it looked like I would be picking out a burial suit, things are really rosy. Even if he DID want to watch "Ellen." Now THAT'S some scary stuff!

Today today: Dad better

    The difference between yesterday's post (i.e., this morning's) and today's (this afternoon's) is that I have a little more information. Margaret has talked to Dad several times and he was speaking well and apparently making sense, which is a pleasant change. Only thing is that he's in dialysis yet again, making three days in a row. And since they wanted to keep him on schedule, he'll probably be going again tomorrow as it's his regular day.
    So visiting is likely to be tricky. Presumably he'll be headed back to Lowman pretty soon, too. We might not get to visit until Thursday, possibly there. Still, I'm looking forward to it, rather than dreading it (I mean because he was doing so poorly before), so that's pretty great. So yay!

Yesterday today

    I totally forgot to post yesterday, but I'm glad to say that it wasn't because of bad stuff. I am in a little disarray certainly, but things are getting better. Dad was in ICU yesterday, looking lots better. I went by in the morning and got to watch him sleep and talked to his nurse, an extremely nice fellow. He said that Dad would have dialysis again that day. I called later and found that in the ICU, they do dialysis in the room, so we could visit.
    That didn't really turn out to be the case. Margaret and I tried to get there before dialysis started but didn't quite make it. Especially as he was having an EKG at the same time, we had to wait a half hour before we could visit, and then he was too glad to see Margaret and wouldn't keep his right arm still, so we had to go. But Margaret was glad to see him and to be seen, so that was great.
    I had the pleasure to go out with my celiac group for early Christmas dinner, which was major awesomeness and good for morale, and even better for morale, got a call when I got home that Dad had moved to the step-down ICU and was asking the nurses to call Margaret for him. So yay! Today today to be posted later.

Alarming stuff

    I got a call this morning that my dad had passed a restless night, that he was breathing about 40 times per minute, that his oxygen saturation was hovering around 92% and that his lips were going blue/purple. Staff wanted to know if it was OK for him to go to the emergency room. I resisted the temptation to say, "Ya think?" and gave the goahead for him to go to Baptist. They said they would call when he was under way.
    When they did, I ate a sort of lunch (since it takes almost an hour even for an ambulance to get from Lowman to Baptist) and headed to the ER. I was very apprehensive, but he looked good. The doctors were mostly reassuring. The chest x-ray showed that he had a lot of fluid in his right lung and also in his right chest. All he needed, they said, was more dialysis. So I waited with him while he got further tests and they got him set up for dialysis.
    As this went on, his oxygen saturation started falling again, alarming me a lot. But finally, they had him a room in the ICU. (You have to have a room to have dialysis even though you go to the hospital's dialysis facility rather than it coming to you; makes no sense, but there you go.) First, they were going to use a BiPAP machine to get as much fluid as possible out of his lungs. Hopefully, between that and the dialysis, he'll be a lot better. Hopefully, someday he gets fed, too. Helluva day he's had. As I type, he's probably halfway through the dialysis session.
    Even before this, I was going to write today about fairly alarming stuff about Dad, although it seems mild now. When we arrived yesterday, he threw the blankets off and was trying to get up, saying that he thought he could pee. He hasn't walked in weeks and probably wouldn't be able to do that, let alone pee. (He hasn't made pee in a long time, although he still did for the first couple of years of dialysis.) I assume that he was dreaming. He was attached to an oxygen machine, so trying to go to the bathroom would have been fairly disastrous regardless. I pointed out that he was in a diaper; if he could pee, he should just go ahead and do so. Eventually, he calmed down, I guess. I just hope he doesn't get further ideas to go walking when we aren't around.

Cat hair

    I'll probably be brief. I am, and have always been, allergic to these rotten stinky cats. It's not a terribly bad allergy, but if a cat hair gets up by my eyes (stuck in my glasses, say) I can have a pretty bad day. Today I found one stuck to the nosepiece, but by then I had the most astounding splitting headache, just next door to a migraine. It's getting better now, but not to the degree that I much feel like looking at a computer monitor for long periods.
    My niece-in-law, after giving birth, developed allergies to a dozen or more of her favorite fruits. She's taking injections with the idea of lessening the allergies. Also she's carrying an epipen. My allergy is so mild that I don't need such stringent measures. On the other hand, Harry will probably live at least ten years and I like to think Amelia has nearly that long herself. It might be worth a try. One more headache like that and it certainly will seem even moreso.

They're giving my dad rat poison!

    Well they are! Coumadin sounds a lot friendlier than Warfarin, though, and is of course a standard blood thinner. I doubt the dosages they're giving him would even kill a rat; I like to think not anyway.
    Let me back up. Yesterday during our visit, the ultrasound tech appeared and did the ultrasound on Dad's left arm. today, Dad's nurse called to say that the ultrasound confirmed that he had a clot in his arm and that they were going to give him Coumadin. I expressed my worries about blood thinners and dialysis; in the past when he was given them, he had grave difficulties stopping bleeding at the end of the session. In the past, he was a lot more on the ball than he is now. He wouldn't even notice himself bleeding these days. They are only starting this evening after dialysis. Hopefully, the treatment won't last long.
    Also yesterday, I figured out that staff wasn't ignoring Dad, that his call button wasn't working. They replaced it immediately and response to his calls was very, very prompt thereafter. Glad that I noticed.
    Today, I got my first bill for his care at Lowman. It was vast, significantly higher than I was expecting. Well, he's worth it!

Further malentendu

    Before the daily anecdote, let me pass along better news about my dad. He phoned last night to say that he was back from dialysis and that his arm wasn't troubling him. I'm not clear whether it's still swollen. He doesn't usually call me; just Margaret. I have a feeling that the nurse told him to call me because she has in the past (and he did) and she's an ace.
    Last night as I mentioned was my last time hosting Columbia Drinking Liberally. Only one friend showed up, but we had a pleasant wake. However, there was some kind of misunderstanding with the waitress. I ordered, clearly I thought, their burger of the day, the Moroccan burger. As it's a vegan raw foods gluten-free establishment, it wouldn't be much like a burger, but I was still charged about it. And it never came.
    My friend arrived, ordered guacamole (which isn't weird if raw, vegan and gluten-free) which we shared and it was very good. Still no burger. After an hour, she checked on us and asked if we needed anything and I asked what became of my burger. She assured me that I said I didn't want anything and I assured her that I had ordered the Moroccan burger. Finally, I just said forget it, I would pay my friend's bill and we would be done. She came back with the bill and a burger in a to-go box, saying I didn't have to pay for it. And I really enjoyed it when I got home. Her tip went up markedly, by the way.

Feet too high

    On our visit yesterday, Dad kept complaining about something that sounded like his feet were too high. I'm pretty sure my hearing still works, but I certainly got an insight into how he feels when he thinks everybody is mumbling. Because what he was saying is that his feet were too hot. I took a blanket away and then he was happy. But it is frustrating when communication is so hard.
    Today has been worrying because I got a call in the morning that his left arm was very swollen. They thought it might be a clot but weren't sure. They had ordered an ultrasound; this fortunately can be done onsite. I haven't heard further, so presumably it wasn't anything dangerous or life-threatening. The plan as of this morning was for him to go to dialysis like usual. I assume that this is what happened. He also had a lot of coughing and congestion yesterday. Hopefully he has been given something for that.
    Today is also my last night hosting Columbia's chapter of Drinking Liberally. Possibly it's the last night for the club altogether, but hopefully not. Anyway, two years from now when the President, Congress and the Supreme Court are all Republican, no doubt there will be an uptick in interest. Regardless, it was a fun time and I wish I could continue. I'm just too stressed to do it justice now.

Solving problems

    Let's see if I can get all this in order. When I moved here, I didn't bring my almost very good stereo setup from my Dad's house because of the almost part. The tuner had been hit by lightning at some point and the sound would drop out frustratingly. Rather than hunt down a new tuner, I just bought a cheap radio/CD player at Big Lots. And it worked ok, but developed an annoying short in the volume knob, such that there was a lot more snap crackle and pop than I needed. I also had a portable CD player that would play CD-Rs, even data ones. It worked great except that I bought it without a power supply and the one I got from Radio Shack doesn't really fit. So Amelia the cat knocked it out of commission regularly and getting it plugged up again took many tries.
    So my brother got me a keen mini-stereo system that would play CD-Rs, including data ones, and also the iPods that he also gave me. (Quite a guy!) The deal with the data CDs is that I have a couple of dozen of them with old-time radio shows on them. As I mention now and again, I listen to them regularly. Now life was satisfactory for years, until some yahoo broke the antenna off my car. Then I felt the need for something that would play cassette tapes so that one day I might replace the stereo and antenna in my car. (One assumes they don't make them with cassette players anymore.) So I bought another mini-stereo system. This one has a 3 CD changer and plays CD-Rs, but not data ones.
    And THEN... (I sound like a four-year-old telling a story.) We had a cold snap and none of the CD players would work. (The one in the car won't work if it's chilly at all, one reason why I'd like to replace it.) So I went out to find furniture to put the mini-stereos on to get them off the cold floor. And I have succeeded. AND I got Dad a radio to listen to football games on, but the season's over, and it plays AM stations better than any of my other radios, including especially the first one with the short in the volume knob that started this story. SO I can listen to Columbia's Spanish station Ocho Cuarenta 840 AM again. Whew! That's a long way to go for little point! Point is, I've got better noise choices than before and am pleased.
    Last night's dreams were again bizarre, but all I can remember is my Dad inexplicably buying a mansion in Charleston, then I was driving around town because he was in his current real-life condition looking for a better facility for him to stay in. The town in question looked a great deal more like New York than Columbia or Charleston. Then I was in a museum but it had a canyon through it. Struck me as normal at the time.

Anyway I liked the earthquake

    Not to suggest for a moment that my dreams are more interesting than my real life, but they certainly continue to be odd. Last night's involved my bete noire. You know a subject's bad if I won't blog about it. It was somewhat in the direction of a nightmare, since I was mainly banging my bete noire on the head, but it was fairly cartoonish/ Three Stoogish violence. My dad and mom were around, more or less in command of their faculties. Then there was an earthquake, which was even more cartoonish, or perhaps stagy. Outside rows of trees were sliding by one another, exactly like stage props. It was a dream, though, so I took it as an earthquake. I got a big kick out of it, and quit banging anybody on the head long enough to call everyone's attention to it. Sooo a wild, wacky, obviously stress-induced dream with a certain amount of levity.
    I don't know why the cats have quit sleeping on my legs. After 9 years of Amelia doing so and several months of Harry doing so, it's almost weird having them sleep elsewhere, no matter how much I may have wished they would from time to time over the years. Mind you, it's only been two nights. But still. I guess Harry chased Amelia off and then when the territory was won, he lost interest, and she's either afraid to come back or she likes the new heated cat bed. On the bright side, if somebody comes along who wants to get married, she can finally do so without fear of claws in the night. Probably.