Tell Me Where it Hurts...

Whew! Just got home and it's the first time I feel like I've been able to catch my breath since mid-morning yesterday. It has been a LONG 24 hours...

Yesterday at 11 AM dad and I arrived at Bartlett Regional Hospital for what we assumed would be a quick in-and-out ultrasound of his heart - a procedure we should have had done months ago but, until last week, was stoutly opposed by dad. The edema in his legs and feet has been worsening steadily and even he finally recognized that we needed to try to a new approach.

After a couple of false starts of the "No, not this entrance, the OTHER entrance" variety we got registered with the imaging folks and only had to wait a half-hour or so before we were ushered into the ultasound suite. Then things started to spin-out of control fast.

The technicians were disturbed by a red and tender patch on this right arm - just above his wrist. I was not disturbed since it was actually much improved from a couple of days previously when his lower arm and hand were all spongy and swollen like his legs - mom and I both assumed that it was simply more edema like on his legs and feet. Indeed, I think it was this swelling that finally convinced dad to let me make an appointment for the ultrasound.

In any event, the techies thought we should see a doctor after the ultrasound procedure. I tried to make an appointment at our regular clinic - but it being Friday they were short-staffed and booked solid. So "Plan B" - the Emergency Room right down the hall.

We checked-in about 1:30 PM and after a wait of no more than three hours were ushered into the ER. In the meantime we were amused by a parade of misery including a gentleman valiantly attempting to pass a kidney stone, a gal who spent a couple of hours walking around with an ice pack on her head (although she did take a break from pacing the room every fifteen minutes or so to go have a smoke) and a middle aged pasty-faced gal who just set in the corner rocking and moaning. And these weren't the most critical folks who were actually seen quite speedily and did not tarry in the waiting room. Since dad's condition was clearly less acute than many others, I cannot criticize the staff for our wait...it just wasn't a lot of fun...

Around 4:30 PM we saw the ER doc...who wasn't overly concerned about dad's arm but was very concerned about the edema. By that time he had got the ultrasound results and they indicated that dad's heart is in quite fine shape for a 94 year old. Pumping away to beat the band. So...the doc intelligently concluded that something other than a weak heart must be the cause of the problem.

So....let's draw some blood and zip him back to the ultrasound suite to do a study of the veins and arteries in his legs. Bingo! Big time blood-clots and blockage. And option time: we can go home and mom and/or I can give him injections of blood thinner every 12 hours for a couple of days OR he can be admitted to the hospital and get the blood thinner via an I-V. Since dad was looking pretty ragged by that time and I wasn't sure I could even get him up the stairs into the house and given that mom was pretty stressed-out already, I convinced the ol' coot, without much difficulty, to take the inpatient option.

This resulted in a further wait in the ER for a couple of hours insofar as we needed to have a visit from the on-call doc from his regular clinic in order to be admitted. Finally, we were wheeled-up to the med/surg wing about 9:00 PM. Dad hadn't had any food since early morning and was greedily sucking-up a couple of little containers of ice cream when we parted company...

I was hoarse...from ten hours of acting as dad's translator...kinda like the old Garrett Morris routine from Saturday Night Live...the deaf person translator - "OUR TOP STORY TONIGHT...."

Only for me it was an endless loop with at least a dozen medical professionals along the lines of:

Doctor: "How are you feeling? Looks like you're retaining quite a bit of water."

Dad: "Do I want some water? Huh?"

Me: "HOW ARE YOU FEELING?"

Mom and I went to see the old boy this morning and he seemed quite chipper. One emergency drill to run to the folk's place to get some replacement urostomy bags. And a thermos of coffee. It seems that Bartlett serves Juneau's finest from Heritage Coffee - Fair Trade, Organic, Non-Child Labor coffee of the Best Quality. Dad said it tasted like shit. He desperately needed a cup of Folgers...

With luck he'll be sprung on Monday and with even more luck we will now get the edema under control. Time will tell.