Dad Update

Today was one of those roller coaster days. Mom and I left the house early to get to the hospital for the first visiting hour with breakfast burritos in hand for dad, because he's lost his appetite. When we went into his room, we were encouraged by pretty good blood pressure readings and told he had been off of the dopamine for about an hour.

Next visiting hour would tell the tale as to whether or not he'd be let out of ICU and get a regular room. His oncologist also had him scheduled for a CT scan to check on the status of the lymphoma spot on his liver.

Mom and I left the hospital and went to Cory's house for a visit with the grand-fabulous Ava and decided to go to lunch before returning to the hospital. We had a fabulous lunch at Chili's and headed back to the hospital.

At the first afternoon visit, we were excited about great blood pressure readings, but had to leave the room for dad to use the restroom...uh...bedpan. On our way back into the room, the nurse said, "His drain tube came out."

Crash. Bam. Boom.

Mom and I stopped dead in our tracks. The nurses finished arranging dad in the bed before they would let us back into the room and when she came out she told us that dad was very upset when she told him that she spoke to one of his doctors and he "might have to go back to Houston."

Back to Houston? For the fourth time in eight weeks. No f*cking way.

We went back into the room with dad and started trying to sort this newest mess out with the nurse. I said, "I can't believe there isn't a radiologist in Beaumont that could reinsert that tube." The nurse said that dad's oncologist said he would watch his bilirubin counts over the weekend and wait until Monday to make the decision on whether or not he needed to go back to Houston. This was not encouraging to us at all.

Mom and I left dad discouraged, distraught and pissed off. Dad was once again in tears and mad at himself for "being a big baby." However, he didn't say "big baby." I won't say what he said. Use your imagination and think cats.

Mom and I spent the next three hours in the waiting room trying to distract ourselves with ghost hunting books, NCIS reruns and the endless stories of all the other poor people in the ICU waiting room. ICU waiting rooms are places of unbelievable sadness and equally incredible joy. Everyone becomes emotionally involved in each other's sorrows and triumphs. We all applauded when one lady's husband finally was moved from ICU to a room. Sweet.

Then the roller coaster started its slow grind uphill. At the late afternoon visit, we were told that the only radiologist in Beaumont qualified and willing to attempt to reinsert the flush/drain tube happened to be on-call and in the building on a Friday afternoon. Since dad was already scheduled for a CT scan, the radiologist, dad's gastroenterologist (who also just happened to be in the hospital and on-call) and his oncologist would all review the results and possibly reinsert the tube tonight.

Hallelujah. Happy. Happy. Joy. Joy.

So, we followed dad's bed down to CT, waited for them to finish the scan, followed them back up to the room and left dad again, this time much more optimistic. Back to the waiting room we went, this time with Bonnie in tow who had just gotten off of work for the day to be greeted with all this fine news.

Three and a half long waiting room hours later, we went back into dad's ICU room to find the nurse drawing blood in preparation for dad's procedure. The radiologist agreed to do the procedure Saturday (tomorrow) morning. So, the roller coaster has pulled into the station for the evening and we're hoping for a nice "Pirates of the Caribbean" type Disney World river ride tomorrow. No more roller coasters.

I hate roller coasters.