sick of sick

i'm sitting on a miserable cot, leaning against a cold window, watching my dad sleep. he's wearing hospital pajamas and is all wrapped up in white, scratchy hospital sheets and blankets. five stickers and five wires on his chest monitor his heart rate; he's "televised" out in the hall, so someone can watch his every heart beat. occasionally he snores and wakes himself up, only to realize he's sick and in the hospital and might as well go back to sleep to make it all go away.

as if the congestive heart failure and arrhythmia issues weren't problem enough, my dad developed a flu bug two days ago. you wouldn't think that a flu bug would wind you up in the er two days in a row and eventually get you admitted. but it can. if you have heart failure. if the nausea prevents you from taking your cardiac meds. and the diarrhea gets you really dehydrated. for someone with medication induced hypotension (low blood pressure), dehydration can sink your already low blood pressures to dangerously low levels. nurses and doctors say "his blood pressure is in the toilet" or "he's circling the drain." i never want nurses and doctors to talk about my dad like that.

the ER is an interesting place, i must say. i did not like the care we received down there. the physicians there are generalists. they're good at little bits of everything. but, they're not exceptional in specialties. and congestive heart failure is a specialty. typically, if someone comes to the ER with low blood pressures, you give them a couple liters of fluid intravenously and send them home. but for someone with congestive heart failure, a couple liters of fluid may just lead to drowning - literally. a boggy, inefficient and tired heart can't handle extra fluid volume. so instead, the fluid goes straight to your lungs. you get short of breath. your lungs crackle. and you drown.

we'd already been in the ER for hours (and they'd done nothing for my dad but draw labs) when an attending walked into our room. he had white hair and wore hearing aids in both ears. he did not introduce himself. he did not listen to my dad's heart and lungs. he prescribed fluid based only on my dad's weight loss. he didn't ask for a history or take my insight into consideration. he was an old-school doctor, a pompous ass. i hated him - instantly. and i wasn't going to allow him to take care of my dad. bedside manner means everything and this man had none. i demanded that the cardiologist on-call be paged; my dad needed and deserved a thorough assessment from a specialist. finally, at 1:15 AM, a real doctor came. he spent 15 minutes with us. he acknowledged the challenge of low blood pressures AND congestive heart failure. he was comfortable with my dad's low blood pressures and proceeded cautiously. he ordered ONLY 500 cc of fluids. safe. thoughtful. confident. and we were satisfied.

so, i feel safer with my dad admitted to a cardiology unit. someone else is calling the shots today, instead of me (i was at work yesterday, talking to my mom and dad off and on, calling his nurse practitioner, getting advice, and telling him which meds to take and which meds to hold).

but i still hate this situation. i hate that my dad is sick. i hate that his situation is ever-changing and always tenuous. i hate seeing him afraid and weak. i hate watching my mom fall to pieces as she watches her husband (of 39 years - today - happy anniversary!) sleep. i dislike sleeping on linoleum floors in the ER. i dislike calling in sick for work - not because i am sick, but because my dad is sick (i'd take his flu bug in a heart beat - i have plenty of healthy heart beats to loan or share).

i'm sick of sick. and ready for something different. i'm not asking for healthy. my dad will never be "healthy." but back to baseline would be nice. his baseline is spunky and crazy. his baseline is walking around the mall to get exercise while staying warm. his baseline is going to work, making soups, working too hard, and bossing people around. we just want to get back to baseline.