Another one-day roller coaster

    Yesterday, before I got there, Dad kicked off his day with physical therapy (with diaper). And he took some steps. So that was a great start. Also, Margaret had her hernia procedure, which indeed proved to be straightforward, quick and didn't even require general anesthesia. And as expected, the dermatologist told me I'm a hypochondriac, which was more than OK with me. (He didn't really, but the mole was nothing to worry about.)
    Unfortunately, when I got back from my dinner, Dad had his in front of him, but was asleep. When he woke up he was almost incoherent, but eventually conveyed that he was in trouble from diabetes. The nurses came and checked his blood sugar and it was very low. They gave him dextrose, two cups of orange juice, and kept him eating, and eventually it came up. But it was very worrying. The dietitian had ordered that his portions be doubled, but the person responsible for ordering his meals has now twice quit doing this after a day or so. This morning I called the nurse and the dietitian and am reasonably satisfied that they have got this fixed. He's still at dialysis, so I haven't been able to go see yet, but hopefully we have it squared away.
    I also heard from the social worker this morning. It was a different one, and it was like I'd never heard from the first one at all. So we started all over. She did make clear that they're just finding a place for him when he's ready to go; they aren't necessarily kicking him out immediately.

Winning

    Not, mind you, winning big. But we count 'em all. The physical therapists came yesterday, this time bringing a diaper. Though we didn't get Tim and Cory, it was Cory and a blonde lady whose name I never heard. Though Dad didn't exactly walk anywhere, he did stand up twice. If common sense had won out a month ago (ie patient is incontinent = might need a diaper for physical therapy) he'd probably be dancing by now. But hey- we win through in the end.
    Margaret's hernia procedure is today and I've got an appointment with a dermatologist to look at this mole on my face. I'm hoping as usual to be told I'm a hypochondriac. And maybe somehow to get some lunch. But Dad's sweetheart's more important.

And now Margaret

    Dad's sweetheart was having leg pains when she went home from visiting him at the hospital Sunday night. She thought she would get better after going to bed, but she got much worse instead. She called her daughter Linda, who took her to the emergency room at Baptist. Due to the holiday, they were desperately understaffed, but eventually got her help. It turned out that she had a hernia in her leg. They gave her painkillers, which made her nauseous, but apparently the pain resolved by itself. ("The hernia came out, and went back in." I don't know what this means either.)
    So she's having surgery Wednesday. She has to wait until all the Plavix gets out of her system. I'll be at a dermatologist that morning, having a mole on my face looked at. But I'll probably spend the rest of the morning in the surgical waiting area so I can report back to Dad at the earliest.
    Dad is doing OK. As soon as we squared away what their phone numbers are at the hospital, he and Margaret were phoning each other for the balance of the day. I quite enjoyed feeling superfluous. In the TMI department, he got a much, much more attentive nurse, who uh, helped him with all his elimination issues, so he's feeling much better. Today is another dialysis day, so I don't get to see him until the afternoon. Hopefully, he'll feel better still.

Anger

    I find that I would rather get angry at circumstances than at people. This is something I need to remember a lot over at Palmetto Baptist. It isn't the fault of anyone that I'm talking to there that they do not have a workable system for communicating with one another. And punching them won't make them communicate better. So it's best to swallow it and tell 'em and tell 'em again. But it's very frustrating.
    Malcolm Jr. has returned to Boston. We are very grateful that he stayed so long and helped so much. He gave Dad a shave before going, for which we (especially Dad) are grateful, too.
    As to Dad's blood sugar, they didn't tell him what the level was in the morning, but they didn't give him insulin either. Thus, presumably it went down by itself without going too low. So benign neglect worked out, uh, benignly in this instance. Meanwhile, in the TMI department, he says they're still doing the "cath in out" procedure, but not lately. I'll see if there's anyone I can talk to about it.

Son of beneath the planet of the valley of TMI

    Yesterday was somewhat successful. Last week the dietitian doubled Dad's portions and also took him off the diabetic diet since he's on dialysis anyway. However, the staff on his new floor completely missed this and had him back on the same food he'd been on before. We mentioned this to them and they corrected the error; unfortunately, the double portions were double portions of crap, so not much of a win there. Also his blood sugar was quite high, but the nurse didn't want to give him insulin since by morning it tends to be too low. So I certainly hope that that turned out OK.
    In the TMI department, he hasn't been peeing in ages. In IICU, they had a catheter procedure (which the techs called "cath in out," which I found not too informative) which removed a LOT of urine from his body. I'm not aware of anyone doing that now. I'm afraid he's building up huge amounts of urine. The last we (or I) talked to Dr. Emmer, he said they were going to check for a blockage, but I never heard further. One disadvantage of long holiday weekends is that doctors take them, too. I'll at least ask a nurse today.

What happened and what it was like

    I have to start by noting that this happened more than a week ago; do not be alarmed. You would think that a description of a massive heart attack would require another TMI warning, but nothing of the sort. It was completely unhorrifying. That's what's so scary.
    In fact, I already described this already on this blog, except that I was missing the crucial information that it was a heart attack. I was sitting next to him the entire time. All I observed was Dad burping a lot and then coughing. The nurse came in and noticed that he was having trouble breathing. She checked him with a stethoscope and asked him to take a deep breath and he said he couldn't. That's when she turned in a code blue and it all hit the fan, complete with the deputy hospital administrator turning up.
    We didn't find out for days that it was most likely a massive heart attack. He never had any unusual pain. Apparently, diabetics can have heart attacks without knowing it, and apparently he had already had one or more in the past. And this is why, though we're happy he's out of ICU, we're very nervous. We want to be with him all the time to keep an eye on him, but when you're sitting next to him and he can have a heart attack and you have no clue, what do you do? You treasure every moment.

Eight years ago

    Eight years ago today, my mother died. She had been increasingly ravaged by Alzheimer's over her last ten years, to the point that at the end it was easy to regard it as more of a release for her than a tragedy. But she was a sweetie, a wonderful mother and an all-around great person, and we miss her every day. Anne S. Dantzler, June 18, 1923 - July 1, 2001, Rest in peace.
    Yesterday, Dad had another good day, mostly. Dialysis went well and meals were still double portions and generally edible. We had a visit from the wound nurse, who muttered. ("WHAT?") He told us that Dad had bed sores. (I need to rename this blog "Forgive TMI." Now it's time to say it again.) He was telling us that Dad needs to get out of bed and we explained that every time the physical therapy guys get him up, he pooped. We suggested that he wear adult diapers only for PT, and he muttered back that this used to be the way things were done but now they don't because adult diapers led to too much skin damage. Upshot, however, was that he was down with the plan so long as the diaper didn't stay on afterwards.
    After I left, the PT people came, without diapers. Got him out of bed and nature took its course. Malcolm and Margaret said that the PT folks basically cut and ran. We miss Tim and Cory, and continue to be frustrated with the total lack of communication between the departments at Baptist. Hoping for better coordination at whatever nursing home we go to shortly.
    Had a bizarro dream where I brought in from the street two additional cats who looked like Amelia. Was very relieved to wake up to only one of her.