Two months of intense caring

Two. Months.

August 16th - September 16th

I start this with August 16th when my dad was actually admitted to the hospital on August 13th. I flew in from my home in Colorado, leaving Shawn and Jarvis to hold down the proverbial fort. From the 13th through the 19th, my dad was on a medical floor. That's were he was being treated for all the things jacked up by his liver. Then, the 19th through the 28th he moved to a skilled nursing floor (SNF) for inpatient physical and occupational therapies. On the 27th he went to ICU in a desperate attempt to get him to the Main Campus of the Cleveland Clinic where they had a unit that would focus on his liver which wasn't available at the Euclid Hospital satellite branch of the Cleveland Clinic. That attempt didn't work, so he was transferred back to the medical floor. Then, on the 31st, he made his way to Main Campus. His time at Main was August 31st through September 5th. And, finally, back to Euclid's SNF and lots of PT and OT from September 5th through September 16th. Then home.

So, month 1 was all about the hospital stays. He was having procedures. We were talking to doctors and NPs and nurses and aides and physical therapists and occupational therapist throughout all of that time. I was learning things I had known nothing about, such as, the body has ammonia in it. For real, ammonia. The liver is supposed to flush it out and when it doesn't it goes to the brain and turns you into a different person. My mom and I spent most of our time with him. We worked on crossword puzzles and watched TV as he dosed in and out. I would help him with his meals because opening his drinks and other sealed items took fine motor skills he didn't quite have. On SNF, he could wear regular clothes to go to therapy. In the evening, he would go back to his gown and, at times, I would help him change. One day, I noticed his legs were dripping fluid. That was something I could have done without seeing. Some days I had to brace myself for visitors who were not my cup of tea. That's a tough one. There was one afternoon when my mom and I had gone to get something to eat. My mom decided to call the priest from their parish to have him visit, maybe bring communion, too, I can't remember. She found out that he had just been up their. When we got back, my dad was in a terrible state, almost completely reclined. His respiratory therapist came in for his afternoon treatment and he shooed her away. He asked me to come over and I bent over to hear him. He whispered to me that he didn't think he was going to make, that he was going to die. Believe me, this is not anything you want to hear from anyone you love's mouth. We heard from others that sometimes, when a minister of some sort visits and bestows a blessing, the patient can take a turn because they see that experience as a sign of impending death. Thankfully, he perked up. He was quite an ornery patient and I often had to explain things to him. Sometimes, he would understand, and other times he would continue to be difficult.

September 16th came, and he was discharged.

September 16th - October 16th

This begins my last month. This period of time may have been worse. There was no aide to ring for to go to the bathroom. No nurses to be the bad guys dispensing his meds, especially his lactulose. It was the medication to help his ammonia levels lower. It's a disgusting, orange, syrup about which he would grumble when having to take it. My mom was trying to come up with meals that would meet up to the special dietary restrictions he needed to maintain outside of the hospital. I was working on a family calendar for people to help my mom with getting my dad to appointments. I was also sending emails to my siblings to summarize the hospital discharge notes and any other information from other appointments. One thing I never saw myself as having to do is empty out a portable urinal, but there I was. Some days were shitty, literally and figuratively. Lying in my parents' regular bed was not working out well, so he would sleep in his recliner. It was the kind that can lift you into standing and can put you horizontal. Some nights, I'd hear him in the middle of the night. There were different things he was moaning about. One night, he needed more water. Another time, it was to tell me the newspapers on the floor next to him were ready to be recycled. He was having some hip pain and pain from a sore one night. He couldn't really roll to his side. So, I got some pillows to prop him onto his side. I had to push him and hold him on his side while trying to position the pillows. Thankfully, it helped. There was also a time where he was afraid he missed his friend's birthday. I looked through the pile of items to be mailed and told him there wasn't a card so it must have been mailed already. He then cried because it was also his favorite aunt's birthday. He went back to being upset about his friend. He talked about his friend not knowing about all that had been going on. He mentioned that he always calls his friend. So, I told him he could call his friend the next day. I wrote a note, "Call Joel for his birthday" with his phone number in large digits. I put it on the table next to the chair. Then, I can't remember how, but I found out he that it was March. I told him he could still call Joel, but I just crossed off the birthday part of the note. It was weird how the lucid moments would happen, often when visitors were around. My mom and I bore the brunt of his personality switch. We did have some good moments watching the Democratic candidates' town halls and debates.

October 16th, the day I was leaving, it was like my dad had rebuilt all his strength and channeled it into the grip he had on my arm as I was heading out the door.

Two. Weeks.

October 16th - October 29th (technically 13 days, but still)

I got back to Denver and was so lucky to be greeted by Shawn almost as enthusiastically as by Jarvis (😉) It was nice to get a message of appreciation for all that I had done over my 2 month stay. I wish I had more of that. That probably sounds selfish and needy, but so much happened in the time in Cleveland and I was exhausted. I have felt underappreciated. I don't know what to do with myself now that I'm back. My days were filled with so much and here I am doing next to nothing. I didn't capture all of the things from Cleveland in this post. The toll some people and some things took on me is significant and probably best unsaid. My mental health has taken a hit. In the end, I did my best and now that I'm back home I'll have to figure out the rest.