Surgery went well; the good and bad of stubbornness

My dad's surgery went well yesterday. An new opening has now been created that will allow him to be able to urinate again on his own very soon. Right now the wait is on for the blood to clear out of his urine (caused by the surgery, which is normal), then they will remove the catheter (I had wrongly assumed, by the way, that the catheter would be removed during surgery), and when he is able to urinate on his own at least two times with no blood, he will then be cleared to go "home" (his home being the assisted living home, of course).

He was sleeping peacefully when I arrived at his new room this morning, a room he is now having to share with another man with Alzheimer's, who thankfully was also asleep. I didn't want to wake my dad, especially after finding out from my step mom that he had only been asleep for about two minutes before I arrived, and that was after not sleeping more than a few minutes all night long (according to the sitter). A nurse came in a few minutes later, however, and he woke up anyway, and was wide awake then, so I was able to visit with him.

He seemed to be in much better spirits today, and relented much easier when we told him he couldn't get out of bed yet, not to say he didn't try his hardest a few times. One thing I can say about my dad, he doesn't give up easy. He has that same stubborn streak in him that I have, and that my daughter also has. It can be a good thing when focused in the right direction, it can make you go further and do more than you otherwise might, and yet, it can also get you in big trouble if you aren't careful. My recent running injury is a good example of that. I continued to run with pain, stubbornly pushing through in hopes of continuing on the schedule of progress I wanted so badly to keep, which wound up putting me out of running altogether, and now I'm not even sure I'll ever be able to run long distance again.

I was glad to hear that they were planning to let him get out of bed this afternoon when the physical therapist came. Personally, I can't imagine having to stay in bed all the time when you feel like getting up. I would be going stir crazy.

A Smile One Day, Tears the Next

Yesterday when I went to visit my dad in the hospital, there was a moment when he smiled the biggest smile at me. It meant so much to me, for it had been so long since I had seen him smile that big, much less smile that way at me. I was so grateful for it.

Today, I wiped a tear away. Something I had never in my life done until today. I've only seen my dad cry once in my entire life, and that was after my mom passed away. He wanted to get out of bed, but we couldn't let him. His blood pressure has been running high at times as of late, something that is new to him since he has always had low blood pressure, and letting him sit up in the chair by his bed would only make him want to stand up even more, and the cycle would begin -- he would keep trying to get out of the chair, be lovingly yet firmly told no with a gentle push on his shoulders, he would sit back and relent, only to try again within two to five minutes, and the cycle would repeat many, many times before he would finally just give out from exhaustion.

No, one day before surgery, we didn't want him to get worn out. So we had to coax him into staying in bed, which either frustrated him to tears, or brought him to tears because he didn't understand. Not long after that, while still staring into my eyes, eyes that were pleading with me, he stopped fighting, closed his eyes, and fell asleep. A sleep he much needed, since he had barely slept all night. It was then that I decided to leave, after being there for about two hours, my daughter and husband being there as well. My husband had taken my just-turned-five year old daughter for a walk when it happened, so I gathered our things and began walking out. My husband and daughter were returning at that moment, so I told them he was asleep. My daughter still wanted to see him before we left, so I let her look at him through the interior window since the curtain had been pulled back. She peered at him for a few moments, seemed satisfied, and we headed down the hallway with my step mom to talk with her for a few minutes before leaving.

My step mom has hired sitters to stay with my dad 24 hours a day now, to be there to watch him when family isn't in the room, in case he tries to get up, or pull his catheter out, or any other number of things he could do while the nurse isn't in the room. The sitters will also be there once he returns to the assisted living home. We are all breathing easier now, knowing that my step mom is able to take breaks, and that my dad will be okay when one of us can't be there.

His surgery is tomorrow morning. We are all hoping and praying it goes well, that recovery is quick, and that he can return to his "home" soon.

Relief!

When I didn't hear from my step mom since yesterday afternoon and through the night, I figured no news was good news, and I had a certain calm about me as I fell asleep. Sure enough, this morning when I went to visit my dad in the hospital, good news awaited me. My step mom was there -- her son had come to take over during the night so she could go home to sleep -- and we were able to talk at length since my dad was fast asleep. His kidney function was back to normal! The urologist had indeed discovered there was a blockage due to an enlarged prostate (a normal thing that happens in many older men), and that he could perform minor laser surgery to correct it. The catheter had by-passed the blockage, making is possible for his urine to be fully expelled, and therefore allowing his kidneys to return to normal.

His surgery was scheduled for Monday morning. In the meantime he will remain in the hospital, I assume because they don't want to take the risk that his catheter might get pulled out, since without the catheter, his kidneys would begin to fail again.

In the Hospital with Renal Failure

Psalm 23 came to my mind again today while I was visiting my dad in the hospital, and again while I was going for a walk this afternoon, except that time, it became a prayer:

"Lord, let my Dad know that you will be His Shepherd, and that because of that, He shall not want. That You will make him to lie down in green pastures... lead him beside the still waters... restore his soul. Lead him in the paths of righteousness for Your Name's sake. Let him know that, though he walks through the valley of the shadow of death, he need not fear any evil, real or imagined, because you will be with him. That your rod and your staff will comfort him. That you will prepare a table before him in the presence of his enemies (enemies being Alzheimer's, and now, renal failure)... that you will anoint his head with oil, that his cup shall overflow. That surely goodness and mercy shall follow him all the days of his life, and that he shall dwell in the house of the Lord forever... help him put his trust in You."

After my last update, my Dad took a turn for the worse again. He began to get weaker, had trouble walking, and lost his appetite. My step mom had planned to take him to the doctor for a check-up, but last night he fell again at the Assisted Living home. He wound up at the emergency room where they determined he was in renal failure (sudden kidney failure) and was admitted. So the fall wound up being a blessing in disguise. His kidney function was at only 4%. Had it not improved, they would have started dialysis, but it rose to 10% during the night, which was a big relief for all of us.

The doctor believed that there might be some type of blockage causing the renal failure, so he has hope that it will be reversible. We will be waiting and praying.

This morning I couldn't get to the hospital fast enough to see him after dropping my daughter off at school. When I arrived in his room, he looked better than I expected. He was sleeping, but looked peaceful. My step mom and I talked for a bit, exchanged hugs, and she left to go take a break. Then he awoke when the skin specialist came in to check on a couple of spots on his skin, and stayed awake for a good while afterward, and I was able to visit with him. He must have been feeling at least some better, because he tried to get out of bed several times, which I had to firmly yet lovingly prevent. I also tried to make sure he was comfortable, and give him water to drink when he wanted it, from a small cup with a straw. I was also able to get him to eat a little applesauce.

When it was time for me to go pick up my daughter from school, my step mom still wasn't there. She had gotten held up by traffic. So I talked to the nurse, who promised me she would keep a close eye on him, and I dragged myself away. I felt better knowing he was asleep again when I left. Turns out he was just fine until my step mom arrived, and she called me later to talk about how my visit went.

I can't wait to see him again tomorrow. I would go back tonight, but we live too far away from the hospital.

Update on my Dad since the fall

Funny how life can get so busy sometimes. I had every intention on updating on how my Dad was doing since the fall, but am just now getting around to it.

In my last post about my him, it was the morning after his fall, just hours after he had returned from the hospital, and he wasn't doing too well. Despite being doped up on four different medications to sedate him, he was trying to get out of bed and only dozing when he could no longer fight the sleep, and wasn't eating, either.

By the next morning, he was doing amazingly better. My step mom called me not long after I had dropped off my daughter at school and was on my way to see him. She said that he had finally settled down and gone to sleep during the night, which is exactly what I had prayed and hoped would happen, and she was able to go home and get some sleep herself. Then when she returned in the morning, she found him standing up beside his bed, buttoning up his shirt, and doing so much better. Then he ate a huge breakfast and drank water, coffee, juice, more coffee, and more juice. Then he went to use the bathroom without any help and did it like someone who never even had Alzheimer's. I was beyond relieved, and couldn't wait to see him.

When I arrived, I found him in the activity room, sitting in a chair. He was very happy to see me. Of course, his walker was nowhere to be found, so I went searching for it and took it to him. Then I realized his walker was loose on one side, and told one of the workers there. I couldn't help but wonder if that had contributed to his fall. I spoke with my step mom about it and, long story short, he has a new one now.

We had a nice visit, and I was so happy to see that he was doing better and seemed unaffected by the fall or the drugs. We even took a short walk outside into the courtyard area and sat out there for awhile.

At this point I'm not sure when my next visit will be. I would like it to be tomorrow, but am coughing and hacking due to a lovely chest cold, so rather than risk giving it to him, I'm going to wait a little longer. Hopefully I'll be able to visit him again soon.

The Stigma Attached to Alzheimer's

Cows eat cabbage a certain way, and when it comes to how most people view those with Alzheimer's disease, there seems to be a certain way it is done. They tend to to look down on them, to see them as mentally weak, as an oddity. Not that they mean to, because, after all, it's not like they can help it. Yet, the reaction is similar to how one might react to a severely handicapped person, or to someone who was deformed in some way. Non-handicapped people tend to see the handicapped as some kind of anomaly, if you will, as peculiar. As someone they fear, because they aren't quite sure how they're supposed to act around them. Do you smile at them? Or will that make them feel like you're patronizing them? Do you just pretend they aren't there? Or will that make them feel rejected? If you do make eye contact with them, then how long before it's considered staring? Will they be able to see the pity in your eyes? It's a dilemma I'm sure a lot of people face.

One young person I know had this to say about Alzheimer's disease (in a very arrogant tone, I might add): "Alzheimer's isn't a disease. It just happens to old people. It's a genetic thing." Wow, talk about attaching a stigma. What is even more surprising is that the comment came from a very intelligent young person. Or maybe that shouldn't be surprising.

It's sad, really, the stigma that seems to be attached to Alzheimer's. At one time, I may have even been guilty of the same thing, at least to some degree. Until it happened to my dad, of course. Then it hit home. My dad -- a living, breathing person. An intelligent man, a man who accomplished great things in his life, who changed the mindset within the educational system in this State to promote greater education for the middle to lower class, to give them a chance to go beyond working at a fast food restaurant or dig ditches. To work instead as a Chefs, Nurses, and Programmers.

My dad. Not an Alzheimer's "patient." I know it's a common term, like "cancer patient," but I hate that term. For any disease. They aren't a "patient" (unless you're their doctor, of course). They aren't odd. They are a person. With a disease. That affects their brain. Called Alzheimer's.

I now know how to react. No matter what the "oddity," be it Alzheimer's, a severely handicapped person, or a homeless man on the street. I treat them like a person.

A bad fall; a trip to the hospital; restraints

After a week of not seeing my dad due to so many factors, one of which being the distance I live from the assisted living home, I find out on the way there this morning, via a phone call from my step mom, that he had fallen last night. She wasn't there when it happened, they called her not long after she had been home and she immediately went back to the assisted living home, and he wound up going to the hospital for x-rays.

He was very combative, however, even after sedation. They wound up having to use restraints to pin his arms down so that they could perform the x-rays. By the time it was over, they had to give him a total of four shots to try and sedate him enough. To their surprise, even after the four shots, he continued to fight, though at a much lesser, and manageable, degree. Not once did it put him completely out, and he stayed awake the entire night. Thankfully, the x-rays showed no broken bones and no concussion.

My step mom cautioned me on the phone that he was in bad shape, but I figured she just meant bruises and such. So I was a little surprised when I arrived at the assisted living home to find him in bed with his head arched back and mouth open, breathing only through his mouth, eyes half-closed.

It was not what you would expect to see from someone who had been sedated. He was still fighting, fidgeting with his hands and arms, legs half off the bed because he was trying to get up. Thankfully, he couldn't move his legs very far. My step mom was trying to make sure he didn't fall off the bed and make him comfortable with a blanket, which my dad was bunching up in his hands and lifting up into the air. She seemed to think he was trying to use the blanket -- in his extremely medicated state -- to pull himself up.

He did seem to know I was there when I spoke to him and tried to reach out and give me a hug, but I was the one who did the hugging; he was grasping at imaginary things in the air. He tried to talk a couple of times, but we couldn't understand his slurred speech, especially since he wasn't closing his mouth much. But from his tone of voice, it did appear that he was trying to say something coherent.

I wish I knew why my dad had resisted them so much at the hospital, and why he was fighting a simple thing like going to sleep. Is it just a normal thing for those with Alzheimer's to be so combative? (Note to self to go back and re-read the information on the stages of Alzheimer's disease). Maybe he is now entering the 3rd stage, if he hasn't already.

I am also curious as to why he isn't sleeping at night. The workers at the assisted living home said he doesn't sleep much at all during the night, and last night even with sedation, four different medications no less, he still didn't sleep. My step mom said the no-sleep thing started while he was still at home, so it's something that's been going on for quite some time. I worry about that. It can't be good for him to have gone so long now without getting the sleep he needs.

In my next Blog, I plan to talk about the stigma that seems to be attached to Alzheimer's disease and dementia in general.