Holding

Well, no plane trip tomorrow.  Dad had kinda a bad weekend.  He had to take a fair amount of pain medication and it's knocked him for a loop.

His wound has not completely healed and one area is now draining again.  They have a culture being prepared so we will know tomorrow whether or not it has any nasties roaming around inside.  He does not have a fever and his white blood count is not elevated, however, so I am optimistic.

The more mundane yet painful part has been a horrible pain in his neck.  Just from being bedridden, I suppose, but it's been extremely painful.  We just had a massage therapist in and she worked him over pretty good.  I could hear his neck bones cracking from across the room.  The therapy seems to have been near miraculous in its results.  He says he feels much better.

So...we're on hold.  I have made tentative reservations for Friday...but that is mere speculation on my part. 

The wound care folks are just about done with him and then we'll go downstairs for some more pain-in-the-neck therapy.

More when I know more...

Tick Tock

The countdown continues.  Tuesday cannot come soon enough for me or dad...  We want to go home.

Thursday we went over to Providence hospital for an appointment with his surgeon.  They took numerous x-rays.  The doc thought they were very pretty pictures indeed.  He's packing a bunch of metal in his right leg and the x-rays were quite amazing...lots of wires, pins and other hardware...but everything in its proper place and alignment.  His wound is healing well and the doc couldn't have been more pleased.

Yesterday we did the usual therapy routine and it went well...although he is still very skittish about anything that makes him feel like he might fall.  Can't say that I blame in on the one hand; but on the other hand his fear of falling makes therapy less effective than it might otherwise be...and I am concerned that once he is home he will simply refuse to participate in any meaningful therapy.  But that is a concern for another day...

He apparently had considerable discomfort last evening and this morning and has had two doses of narcotics.  He is oblivious today.   I will stay through lunch and hopefully I can get some food into him...but I doubt if I will be able to get him up and about today. 

In other news, Joan Kasson was up on business and Wednesday night we had a delightful dinner at a Kinley's, a very nice restaurant just a block from my hotel.  I had noticed the place in passing but had not recognized it as being a respectable establishment.  I had fresh Kodiak scallops and they were outstanding.  For dessert I ordered an apple/cinnamon sorbet and it was delicious - I think I need to buy an ice cream maker...

Well...back to Captain Aubrey/Dr. Maturin in Volume 13 of their saga titled The Thirteen Gun Salute.  The boys are off to the Pacific coast of South America to sow confusion among their enemies. If today proves as uneventful as I expect,  I will be purchasing Volumes 14-17 later this afternoon.  

Later gang... 

Extra Large - Petite

Well, homeward bound next Tuesday - first class from Anchorage to Juneau on Alaska flight 64.  All our therapy is focused on navigating the perils of the journey home.  Dad and I are becoming increasingly proficient on the use of the transfer board.  It sounds like we will not have a Hoyer Lift in Juneau until a week or so after our arrival.

The one pair of dad's worn out pants on hand are not transfer board friendly.  So after a long discussion with the physical therapist I was dispatched on a mission to the Sears mall.  My quest was for ladie's sweatpants in what I was told was the "petite" genre but size X-Large.  Huh?  I was far from certain about these instructions; but as near as I can tell "petite" means short and "X-large" means fat.

After explaining my needs at length to two clerks at the mall, they managed to convey to me that they did not carry petite sizes in any flavor.  But they did understand I was looking for sweatpants for a ninety-five year old gentleman who tops-out at about five feet and has a serious jelly belly.  After rummaging around for a bit we agreed upon a pair of very smart navy blue sweatpants that I am confident will be the cat's meow transfer board-wise. 

While out-and-about I also took the opportunity to purchase volumes elevent to thirteen of the Captain Jack Aubrey/Ship's Surgeon Steven Maturin adventure series as well as to vote in yesterday's primary election.

And speaking of elections, I guess I was at least mildly surprised at this morning's results.  Looks like Ms. Murkowski may be sent packing.  Guess she just wasn't crazy enough for Alaskan's dyed-in-the-wool Republicans.  I have listened to a lot of radio and tv ads the past month or so and have thought all along that Mr. Miller's blandishments, breast-beating, and lies were much more likely to turn the heads of Alaska's true believers than Ms. Murkowski's line of nonsense. 

Ms. Murkowski's campaign was focused on opposition to everything President Obama has attempted the past two years.  Mr. Miller's campaign was that Ms. Murkowski was really a supporter of President Obama - that she was, if not a card-carrying socialist, then at least a closet liberal. One could argue that Ms. Murkowski's ads were actually harmful to her - simply reminding the whack-jobs how bad the stuff was that she, herself, was being accused of supporting by her opponent.

Also, one suspects that the ballot initiative requiring parental consent for abortions by minors also was problematic for Ms. Murkowski who is tepidly pro-choice.  No doubt the mullahs were herding their flocks last Sunday to support Mr. Miller who is conventionally anti-choice.

Well, time to go to PT.  Later gang.

Let's Go Home!

A quiet Sunday.  Got dad into the atrium for 3 hours or so.  He was in good spirits both yesterday and today.  Today's physical therapy was good -   we got him standing with the assistance of a hydraulic lift.  The machine grabbed him by the butt and stood him up while he rested his arms on a table.  He can put weight on both legs.  The drill convinced him that he can be upright.  But will he ever be able to do those things by himself?  I tend to think not...

After the PT we spent a couple of hours in the atrium...he loves soaking up the sun.

Dad's mind is pretty good.  He is thinking about the logistics of getting home.  He REALLY wants to be in Juneau.   A huge motivator which all the staff and I will shamelessly use this week to gain his cooperation on things he might not otherwise be so hotsy-totsy about. 

I finished my business at the hospital around 2 PM and went for a work out. It was around 4:30 PM when I was done...so did not stop back at the hospital.  As I was parking at a low/middle brow (or is that middle/low brow) eating establishment, I got a call from the Juneau Hospice and Home Care folks.  Answered a few questions.  Talked about procuring various medical supplies.  I have the utmost confidence in the Juneau home care folks.  We are on course for a return home.

This is going to be a very closely run thing...and I am under no illusions regarding the effort involved in sustaining dad at home.  We may fail.  But then again, we may not - and dad's resilience never ceases to amaze me. 

And, as for me - as I was so fond of telling my colleagues at the office when faced with a difficult task:  "It all pays the same."  I am retired, single and fancy free...not that this was exactly what I had in mind...but life is full of whimsy and odd twists and turns.  Or as Grandma Newman used to say: "Such it is..."

In any event, by this time tomorrow I hope to be able to report a definitive departure date from Anchorage.

Until then...

My Father the Failed Coyote

A beautiful day in Anchorage today.  Not going to last though...the clouds are already rolling-in and I see showers on the hillside.

Dad was in good spirits today. He sat-up for almost three hours and I wheeled him down to the atrium where he could enjoy the sun.  We did exercises.  He watched a Mariners vs. Yankees game while I read a book.  He was not happy with the outcome of today's game although he waxed enthusisastic about yesterday's game where the Mariners gave the hated Yanks a serious pounding.  Dad's two most hateful things in life at this point are the New York Yankees and a wrinkle on the sheets under his butt.

The ol' coot's mind is pretty good - although narcotics do throw him off his stride and if he is given a pain killer at night he has some mighty interesting observations the next day.  More on that shortly.

The tale I wish to tell, however, I believe to be a more-or-less accurate historical account.  And it is one I had never heard before.  He related it yesterday while undergoing physical therapy.  The young lady therapist was hugely amused. 

It seems that back in the 1930's dad, "Stick" Sturrock, and another gentleman whose name I had not heard before and have already forgotten took a trip to Tijuana, Mexico.  The unremembered gentleman had worked at the Alaska-Juneau mine for several years; but his home was Seattle and "Stick" and dad accompanied him home.  The gentleman had a car in Seattle and all three lads drove down the coast to San Diego.

From San Diego they took a cab to Tijuana.  Dad's eyes lit up at the recollection of the dance halls with their associated female hangers-on.  They danced 'till hell wouldn't have it.  And after an undisclosed period of time - hours days or weeks - they returned to San Diego.

However it seems that at least one of the dance hall babes had not had nearly enough of the young Alaskans and hitched along. Dad said they "couldn't get rid of her."  He did not elaborate as to whom the young lady was particularly attached and I did not press him on the subject.  In any event, the dance hall gal was unceremoniously ejected at the border by the authorities.  So endeth dad's brief career as a smuggler of undocumented aliens - I suspect the term "coyote" had not yet been invented.

By way of contrast, this morning when I walked into the hospital room he launched on his adventures of the previous night.  It seems that two nurses came into the room about 2:30 AM and took all the covers off of his bed.  He thought they were drunk or on drugs.  He said there were "wild goings-on in the hospital."

The day before the doc had changed his pain meds from morphine or oxycodone to vicadin.  He had been given some vicadin at 10:00 PM.  When I suggested that the big party last night MAY have been a figment of his imagination he seemed half-willing to believe I may be correct.  But only half...

The vicadin seems much less long-lasting than the other narcotics.  He was able to function today...which is not the case if he has been loaded-up on the other stuff during the night.

Now...it may be the case that both of these stories are the product of drug-induced hallucinations or dreams.  But the first one strikes me as authentic.  And regardless, it is so charming that I am filing it away as part of family history.

So there you have it!

A Better Plan

Well, a long day yesterday.  But the end result is a new and improved discharge plan for dad.  He has a follow-up appointment with his orthopedic surgeon next Thursday and shortly thereafter we will return to Juneau and the familiar confines of the folks' double-wide at Switzer Village. In the meantime we will remain at St. Elias.

This plan is not without its perils, of course.  Dad is very weak and I have no reason to believe that a miraculous recovery is in the offing.  Slow progress is the BEST that can be hoped for and that is not guaranteed.  Mom, Linda, and I will have our hands full.  Dad is enthusiastic about the plan, of course.

I have been in contact with the Hospice and Home Care folks in Juneau and they will be providing us in-home services.  We'll put a hospital bed in the front room.  We may need a lift to get him in-and-out of bed; but I am learning how to use a transfer board (help him scoot on his butt from point A to point B using a small board) and after he sees the orthopod we may be able to do the stand and pivot routine.

I will be learning a number of new skills in the next week under the watchful eye of the St. Elias staff...  Excellent folks.

Speaking of which...duty calls...

Later gang!

Roller Coaster

A very unhappy meeting yesterday with the discharge planner here.  I was just walking into the hospital, feeling quite chipper after a good workout, when I was accosted at the door and presented with the statement that there were no open nursing beds in Juneau or Anchorage (I already knew that), an open bed was available for dad at the nursing home in Seward, dad would lose his eligibility to remain at St. Elias on Friday, and therefore we were going to be Seward bound.

Huh?  Seward?  No consultation?  No discussion of other possibilities?  I was not pleased with either the message or the messenger.

I left the discharge planner with the understanding I wanted to have a more serious discussion today and wanted more information about possible placements Outside (perhaps a Veteran's facility), or even a nursing home in Seattle or Portland.  I mentioned Wrangell too - apparently the hospital/nursing home there has carved-out a niche in serving Juneau folks when the Juneau facility is full.  I emphasized that I still assumed our goal was to return to Juneau at the earliest possible date either to the nursing home or to the folks' abode.

I spoke to mom and her reaction was no different than mine...then I called Catholic Community Services in Juneau to get them involved in a possible discharge plan home.  I have not yet heard from the St. Elias discharge functionary this morning...

I did, however, have a very pleasant conversation with the doc a few minutes ago.  She believes that dad could return home although it would obviously require a LOT of support.  She believes it is possible to rent hoyer lifts and I know that hospital beds are obtainable in Juneau.  I expressed to the doc my supreme displeasure with the notion of being turfed-out to Seward.  A few minutes later she came back and said that since dad had an appointment with his surgeon here in Anchorage on the 26th of this month; he really needed to remain here.

Now I would like to think that a doc's opinion would trump the discharge planner's desire to give us the heave-ho.  But at the end of the day this is all ultimately going to be about money - who is willing to pay for what - and I DO understand why Medicare is not eager to pay for dad to remain in a facility that provides services he no longer needs at a cost higher than a nursing home. 

So...mixed messages.  The battle is joined.  I am contemplating buying a length of chain and a substantial lock so I can lash dad to his bed when I am not present.  Hah!  Stay tuned...