2001-05-02 - 11:06 p.m.

Not Good News

Actually, yesterday was not all about the baby hammies.

About 10 AM the phone rang. It was one of the nurses from Hotel Happy, the adult home that my father is staying at. Have I mentioned that phone calls from there are never good news? Well, this call didn't ruin their unbroken record.

Earlier in the morning one of the helpers there noticed that Dad was rather short of breath and his legs were terribly swollen. It was decided that Dad should go to the hospital, and he was rushed to the Emergency Room.

This really didn't have me too concerned. Hotel Happy tends to send residents to the Emergency Room at the slightest provocation. I think they're afraid of being sued for negligence. One of the inmates there sneezes and they get put on a gurney before you can say "Gesundheit!"

A little while later I talked to the people at the hospital. They were running tests on Dad and they were pretty sure the problem was Congestive Heart Failure. That would explain the swelling of his legs. CHF is nasty but survivable - my mother had it for weeks on end when she was in the hospital.

Yesterday was really busy for me, so I didn't visit Dad in the hospital. However, today I steeled myself and drove the five blocks to the hospital. Yes, I drove. It was too damn hot to walk. By the time I would have walked to the hospital I'd need to check in myself for heat prostration.

I don’t really dislike hospitals. They are sort of neutral places for me. I'd visit the hospital once or twice a day during the long weeks when my mother was there back in 1994-95, and I was a patient there myself shortly thereafter. However, what I do dislike is visiting my Dad. He pisses me off. He's a pain in the ass. I have issues with him.

However, my lack of concern evaporated when I actually saw him. He seemed fairly cheerful and alert, but he looked terribly weak and puffy. For some reason his left eye was tearing.

It was worse when I tried to talk to him. It was plain that his brains were scrambled more than they usually are. I asked him if he wanted something and he said he wanted some "PVDs." I had no idea what the heck he was talking about. I finally figured out that he wanted me to bring him some Pepto-Bismol. How did I know that? Because that's what he ALWAYS wants.

I talked to the head nurse on the floor, and they said that they were going to run some tests on him to try to fix the CHF, and while he was there maybe do something about his dementia. They were starting to suspect that he has Alzheimer's Disease. Dad isn't like any other Alzheimer sufferer I've ever seen, but the disease is nearly impossible to diagnose. Maybe some good will come of all this. Doubtful, but possible.

I'm not really concerned that Dad's in any real danger, but this scare has got me thinking that I should check to see if he's got a Living Will and other things of that nature. And I should probably also call my brother and sister and inform them what's going on, just to be on the safe side.