Where I've Been

Feel free to skip this post; it will most likely be long-winded and disjointed. I'm only writing it for therapy for me and because Family Services says I need to document all the craziness. If the facts are written on my blog, I'm not likely to misplace them.

The past 2 weeks have been like a nightmare that I can't escape from! My life feels surreal, like I'm frozen in some bizarre time-warp. As you all know, my Dad had colon cancer surgery on Monday, May 11th. I guess the best way to tell this tale is to go day-by-day.

Monday: I took the day off so my Mom wouldn't be alone at the hospital. I took my parents to the hospital in their car at 7 a.m. Dad went into surgery at 10:30 a.m. Mom spent the entire 3 hours of the surgery sobbing and muttering:"He's my life. I can't live without him." Nothing I did would console her.

The surgery was a success, but we still don't know if Dad will need chemo.

Tuesday: My day began at 1:30 a.m., when Mom called me in a panic. She couldn't find my Dad. That effectively killed sleeping for me for the rest of the night. I didn't know if I should go to their house and spend the rest of the night with Mom, or just hope that she'd settle down and sleep the rest of the night.

The plan for Dad's post-op stay in the hospital was for L to pick up Mom and their dog at 7 a.m. He would take Mom to the hospital and bring the dog to our house. After work, I would spend a couple of hours at the hospital, run errands for me and my parents, pick Mom up at the hospital and bring her over to our house for dinner. After dinner, I would take Mom and Shadow home and make sure they got into the house safely.

Mom INSISTED on driving herself, and my Dad had no problem with that! Mom has undiagnosed Alzheimers (Dad's in denial). Dad has been doing ALL the driving and cooking for the past 2 years. While riding with me, Mom admitted that she couldn't remember where the liquor store was. She then insisted that a beauty parlor was the liquor store. The beauty parlor actually had been a liquor store....30 years ago!! We were terrified that Mom would take a wrong turn on her way to the hospital and keep driving 'til she ran out of gas.

Dad was still a bit confused from the anesthetic and pain killers.

Wednesday: Mom called me twice during the night looking for Dad.

At noon, I looked out the window at work and saw their car parked across the street and Mom staring at the restaurant with a panic-stricken look on her face. Now what?! When I went out to the car, Mom said she couldn't start the car.
Me: "You have to put the car in park."
Mom: "It IS in park!"
I reached across her and shifted the car into park. Mom immediately turned the key and said: "It must have sat long enough to start again."

I got Mom into the restaurant where she started crying and telling everyone what terrible shape my Dad was in. Boss told me to sit down with her and calm her down. When I started questioning Mom, I found out that they had removed Dad's stomach tube, taken him for 2 walks, and let him have a shower. I told Mom that that sounded like a lot of PROGRESS to me.
Mom: "But he's in so much pain!"
Me: "You've had abdominal surgery. You know there will be a lot of pain."
Mom: "I can't stand seeing him suffer!"
Me: "It wasn't easy for Dad to see you in pain when you had surgery. You have to be brave for Dad."
I tried to convince Mom to wait until my shift ended so I could drive her back to the hospital, but no deal.

Later, when I arrived at the hospital, I found the halls plastered with signs with my Dad's name and arrows pointing the way to his room. The nurses were on to Mom's dementia and asked me if there was any way I could keep her from driving. I told them that we had planned on driving Mom everywhere, but our plans had been thwarted. "Your Dad's been covering up for her, hasn't he?" Yup! "We see this happen all the time."

Dad was feeling a lot better, and had quit using his morphine drip. He was a bit confrontational with one of the nurses. He wanted to walk faster than his IV tubes would allow.

Thursday: Mom only called me once during the night. Before she could ask me where Dad was, she realized where he was. She apologized for waking me.

When I arrived at the hospital, Dad was wearing an oxygen mask. The nurse said that he'd had an "episode" with his heart during the night. He'd had a nightmare that knocked his heart out of rhythm. They'd given him a cat-scan, but they still didn't know if he'd had a heart attack or not. They put him on oxygen and heart meds, which returned his heart rhythm to normal. Why hadn't anyone, including my Mom, called me?

D, the hospital's Social Services Director, popped in to visit with us. At the end of her visit, she said that she'd like to discuss a few things with me. Unfortunately, my Mom followed us out of the room too. D took us to a small conference room where she explained Dad's condition and conversationally asked my Mom some questions:
D: "I hear your husband has been doing all the cooking for a couple of years."
Mom: "Yes. He loves to cook."
D: "And how old are you?" Mom tried several times, but never managed to come up with her correct age. At this point, I managed to get rid of Mom by telling her that Dad was probably out of ice chips.

D: "I'll bet you've been trying to get your Dad to have your Mom tested for Alzheimers, but he insists on covering up for her."
Me: "Exactly!"
D: "This is classic behavior. You're an only child and you're trying not to completely alienate your parents by insisting on a test, aren't you?"
Me: "That's the story. Friends and relatives have been noticing the change in Mom, but there's nothing any of us can do short of physically dragging her to the doctor."
D: "Would you like me to have a talk with your Dad in private tomorrow? I'll tell him that the nurses and I discovered the symptoms in your Mom. That way they can't hold any of this against you."
Me: "That would be the BEST possible solution. THANK YOU!!"

Shortly after I returned to Dad's room we got a visit from the on-call doctor, whom my parents hate. She said that the cardiologist in Duluth had looked at Dad's cat-scan and wanted to run some more tests on him. Our hospital doesn't have the equipment necessary for the tests or a cardiologist. They would have to Life-Flight my Dad to Duluth by helicopter, as they didn't have an available nurse to accompany him by ambulance. Dad wanted me to drive him, but I explained that he needed oxygen and IVs that I couldn't transport. We finally convinced my parents that Dad needed to transfer to Duluth to have those tests.

As soon as we were alone, Dad sat up, removed his oxygen mask, and tried to pull out his IV needles.
Me: "WHAT are you doing?"
Dad: "I have to go home and get ready to go to Duluth!"
Me: "Lay down. The nurses will get you ready. The helicopter picks you up HERE."
Dad: "I have to go home to get money to pay for the Life-Flight!"
Me: "We'll worry about that later. I'm sure your insurance will cover it."

Fortunately, Dad's nurse and D came into the room. The nurse settled Dad down, and D went to see if Dad's insurance covered the flight....it did. Within an hour, Dad was on his way to Duluth. The nurse gave me a piece of paper with Dad's cardiac ICU bed number in Duluth. D met me in the hall and gave me her card. She said to call her when Dad gets home and let her know when his next doctor appointment was. She would meet Dad at the doctor's office and explain Mom's condition to him. D also told me to feel free to call her anytime if I needed a shoulder to cry on. What an ANGEL!

By this time Mom was so upset that I easily convinced her to let me drive her home and leave their car at the hospital. I FINALLY got the car away from her!

Next episode: Our trip to Duluth