Gotta Love my Dad
I really do love my Dad. He is an interesting person, to be sure. I know I tease him and make fun of him, but that's cause that's how we always showed love to family members. I blame it on my Mom (easy - she's not here to defend herself).
So I went to Joe's Diner for breakfast on Monday morning, as usual. I walk in and there's Dad, sitting in a booth, looking a bit sad (sadder than usual). He's got an 8 x 10 frame on the table, with Mom's graduation picture (Loring Studios, of course) in it.
Now, I'm thinking all kinds of things...has he lost it? Does he think Mom is there because the picture is there? Why did he bring this picture into Joe's (where all the regulars remember my Mom fondly already)?
So I looked at him in a questioning manner (ok - those of you who know me know the look I gave him - not really as nice as "questioning" - more like "Have you freaking lost it, Dad?"). He says, "I brought this to the ceremony at Masonicare yesterday, and everyone talked about how pretty and lovely she was."
Of course, I practically started bawling, but decided to take the high road and said, "Well we all know how pretty she was, and what a wonderful person she was, Dad." Of course, I'm still thinking, hope he doesn't bring this picture every freakin' day now.
He told me about the ceremony (held monthly for those who passed in that month), and how much it touched him. He got to see other people whose loved ones passed on the hospice wing within a week of Mom, and was sad, but not maudlin.
We've worried about Dad the past few weeks, in part because I spent 7 hours in the Emergency Room with him last week. He had some "bullet holes" removed from his face (that's what we call cancer spots) early in the week. As some may remember, he dog sits for my sister's lab puppy during the day and she feeds him dinner in return. So he was there, and had been outside with the puppy for a few hours that day. Which meant his face was very red (which happens after the zaps are done). My sister commented about the redness, which made him get nervous.
He left my sister's, and took his blood pressure with his VA supplied cuff set up. It was high for him.
Then he said he took it 2 more times. It was still high. So of course he called me, I said I would meet him at MedNow. Less than a minute later, he called back and said my sister will pick him up and take him because he felt too "woozy" to drive. Then my sister called me (doesn't this sound familiar to some of you who have your own family member issues?) and said she will meet me with him, at MedNow.
Nothing like this EVER happens at 8 a.m. in the morning. It was 7 p.m. when this saga began, I got to MedNow by 7:10, and Dad and my sister were already in a triage room (the place was empty except for them - thanks to the additional new urgent care spots in town). I knew the Nurse (she is a school nurse in town so Yeah!).
After an EKG, a nitrate meltaway, some baby aspirin, his BP came down slightly, but his face remained red. Now some of you know that means nada. Even with the fine and dandy EKG, Dad earned a trip in the bus to Bridgeport Hospital ER.
By 9 p.m., blood work was done for the enzyme report. By 10 p.m., x-rays were done. Nothing nasty was shown in the x-ray. By 10:15, bloodwork report came in that showed a slight elevation in the bad enzyme (likely due to high BP, first doc said). Because of this, a 3-4 hour retest was needed. Resident/Intern in the ER said, "I'll have my boss come and talk to you in a few minutes about the bloodwork". Now this guy was young, EuroAmerican, blond, wore glasses, had a last name for a first name. I had to laugh when his boss came over - she had her badge, purple sneakers and a sweater on, natural hair, was African American. After she talked to Dad, he said, loudly, "Was that a different nurse?" "No, Dad, that was the other guy's boss - she's the head honcho". Yeah, that was sort of fun. Dad said, "Oh, oh, oh". He was properly polite to her when she returned. He sometimes learns quickly.
Frequent stroke screenings were done as well. I had to answer for Dad when he couldn't say the medication names correctly (ask him sometime what medications he takes...my gramma used to call Tylenol "Tyrol"...a hysterectomy was a "hysterectoroutome"-Dad takes after her, for sure).
You know I had a book, so I was good to go with a bit of coffee and some sugar. Dad slept away. Thankfully, 2 a.m. rolled around, more blood was taken, report came back quickly and I got him home by 2:15 a.m.
Turns out, folks, that a panic attack (likely caused by the red face comment, and concern expressed during dinner) looks an awful lot like a heart attack.
A sadness attack, fortunately, doesn't present like a heart attack...and sadness sometimes lessens over the days. So if an old man brings a picture of his dead wife to the diner with him once in a while, I'll take that anytime, over a heart attack.
So I went to Joe's Diner for breakfast on Monday morning, as usual. I walk in and there's Dad, sitting in a booth, looking a bit sad (sadder than usual). He's got an 8 x 10 frame on the table, with Mom's graduation picture (Loring Studios, of course) in it.
Now, I'm thinking all kinds of things...has he lost it? Does he think Mom is there because the picture is there? Why did he bring this picture into Joe's (where all the regulars remember my Mom fondly already)?
So I looked at him in a questioning manner (ok - those of you who know me know the look I gave him - not really as nice as "questioning" - more like "Have you freaking lost it, Dad?"). He says, "I brought this to the ceremony at Masonicare yesterday, and everyone talked about how pretty and lovely she was."
Of course, I practically started bawling, but decided to take the high road and said, "Well we all know how pretty she was, and what a wonderful person she was, Dad." Of course, I'm still thinking, hope he doesn't bring this picture every freakin' day now.
He told me about the ceremony (held monthly for those who passed in that month), and how much it touched him. He got to see other people whose loved ones passed on the hospice wing within a week of Mom, and was sad, but not maudlin.
We've worried about Dad the past few weeks, in part because I spent 7 hours in the Emergency Room with him last week. He had some "bullet holes" removed from his face (that's what we call cancer spots) early in the week. As some may remember, he dog sits for my sister's lab puppy during the day and she feeds him dinner in return. So he was there, and had been outside with the puppy for a few hours that day. Which meant his face was very red (which happens after the zaps are done). My sister commented about the redness, which made him get nervous.
He left my sister's, and took his blood pressure with his VA supplied cuff set up. It was high for him.
Then he said he took it 2 more times. It was still high. So of course he called me, I said I would meet him at MedNow. Less than a minute later, he called back and said my sister will pick him up and take him because he felt too "woozy" to drive. Then my sister called me (doesn't this sound familiar to some of you who have your own family member issues?) and said she will meet me with him, at MedNow.
Nothing like this EVER happens at 8 a.m. in the morning. It was 7 p.m. when this saga began, I got to MedNow by 7:10, and Dad and my sister were already in a triage room (the place was empty except for them - thanks to the additional new urgent care spots in town). I knew the Nurse (she is a school nurse in town so Yeah!).
After an EKG, a nitrate meltaway, some baby aspirin, his BP came down slightly, but his face remained red. Now some of you know that means nada. Even with the fine and dandy EKG, Dad earned a trip in the bus to Bridgeport Hospital ER.
By 9 p.m., blood work was done for the enzyme report. By 10 p.m., x-rays were done. Nothing nasty was shown in the x-ray. By 10:15, bloodwork report came in that showed a slight elevation in the bad enzyme (likely due to high BP, first doc said). Because of this, a 3-4 hour retest was needed. Resident/Intern in the ER said, "I'll have my boss come and talk to you in a few minutes about the bloodwork". Now this guy was young, EuroAmerican, blond, wore glasses, had a last name for a first name. I had to laugh when his boss came over - she had her badge, purple sneakers and a sweater on, natural hair, was African American. After she talked to Dad, he said, loudly, "Was that a different nurse?" "No, Dad, that was the other guy's boss - she's the head honcho". Yeah, that was sort of fun. Dad said, "Oh, oh, oh". He was properly polite to her when she returned. He sometimes learns quickly.
Frequent stroke screenings were done as well. I had to answer for Dad when he couldn't say the medication names correctly (ask him sometime what medications he takes...my gramma used to call Tylenol "Tyrol"...a hysterectomy was a "hysterectoroutome"-Dad takes after her, for sure).
You know I had a book, so I was good to go with a bit of coffee and some sugar. Dad slept away. Thankfully, 2 a.m. rolled around, more blood was taken, report came back quickly and I got him home by 2:15 a.m.
Turns out, folks, that a panic attack (likely caused by the red face comment, and concern expressed during dinner) looks an awful lot like a heart attack.
A sadness attack, fortunately, doesn't present like a heart attack...and sadness sometimes lessens over the days. So if an old man brings a picture of his dead wife to the diner with him once in a while, I'll take that anytime, over a heart attack.
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