Emergency Room Visit 3 - Daddy
I had been planning to go to Lancaster early in the week anyway, but I enlarged and accelerated my plans when Mother called about 8:30 Sunday evening to tell me Daddy was sick. I put my clothes back on, put such laundry away as Lee couldn't deal with and packed for a few days. I was just walking out the door when I got another call asking how soon I would be there. Mother was going to call 911 and have Daddy taken to Antelope Valley Hospital.
Mother had taken another fall the night before, though not so bad as her previous one, and Daddy had just patched up a new skinned place on her elbow just above the old one. She had gotten a good night's sleep afterward, but Daddy didn't sleep well. He felt good enough to go to the store that afternoon to get a few necessaries, but by evening had started to have difficulties.
By the time I got to the hospital emergency room (flying low, I admit it), he had been there half an hour, and he didn't look anywhere near as bad as I expected. As usual, his gurney was parked in the hall, but he wasn't complaining, since the guy parked on the opposite wall remained strapped to a transit stretcher that was a couple of sizes too small for him. One of the ambulance attendants with him lowered the stretcher, explaining that, if he fell, he wouldn't have so far to go.
At some point during the night, Daddy was moved to 1 Main, which is a kind of holding area for emergency room patients who have been admitted and are waiting for a regular hospital room. Except that it was co-ed, and there were a dozen or so beds to two toilets, it was in many ways nicer than a regular hospital room. Mother, Cheyenne and I visited him a couple of times on Monday, and it was easier than I expected. I stuffed Mother into the wheelchair and then wrapped Cheyenne's leash around one of the handles. Except for occasionally running into Cheyenne, not to mention a decidedly lopsided dogsled effect, it worked quite well.
A little after eight Monday night, Daddy called to ask for some clothes, since he was supposed to be discharged that evening. He did say there was no particular hurry, but I didn't waste a lot of time anyway. When I got there (without my posse this time), I discovered that the cardiologist had ordered a 12 lead EKG which had to be run and interpreted before Daddy could be released into the wild. By the time that was done, and everything was in order, it was after 11:00. Daddy had been talking about calling the whole thing off and going back to bed for nearly an hour, but he was happy enough to leave.
On Sunday night, I had slept in bed with my mother, and on Monday night, I felt I shouldn't be too far away should my parents need me, so I slept on the couch. I don't know if Charlotte remembers this, or if I even told her, but on one occasion when she planned to visit our folks and sleep on the couch, I stated emphatically that I would not do that. But I did, and quite soundly, too.
Daddy's doctors had found absoulutely nothing wrong with him. His defibrillator checked out fine, it hadn't fired, and it was pacing appropriately. His labs were within normal parameters. He had no fever. His enlarged prostate started behaving itself within a few hours of admission to the hospital. I believe he exhausted himself taking care of, and worrying about, his wife.
Mother had taken another fall the night before, though not so bad as her previous one, and Daddy had just patched up a new skinned place on her elbow just above the old one. She had gotten a good night's sleep afterward, but Daddy didn't sleep well. He felt good enough to go to the store that afternoon to get a few necessaries, but by evening had started to have difficulties.
By the time I got to the hospital emergency room (flying low, I admit it), he had been there half an hour, and he didn't look anywhere near as bad as I expected. As usual, his gurney was parked in the hall, but he wasn't complaining, since the guy parked on the opposite wall remained strapped to a transit stretcher that was a couple of sizes too small for him. One of the ambulance attendants with him lowered the stretcher, explaining that, if he fell, he wouldn't have so far to go.
At some point during the night, Daddy was moved to 1 Main, which is a kind of holding area for emergency room patients who have been admitted and are waiting for a regular hospital room. Except that it was co-ed, and there were a dozen or so beds to two toilets, it was in many ways nicer than a regular hospital room. Mother, Cheyenne and I visited him a couple of times on Monday, and it was easier than I expected. I stuffed Mother into the wheelchair and then wrapped Cheyenne's leash around one of the handles. Except for occasionally running into Cheyenne, not to mention a decidedly lopsided dogsled effect, it worked quite well.
A little after eight Monday night, Daddy called to ask for some clothes, since he was supposed to be discharged that evening. He did say there was no particular hurry, but I didn't waste a lot of time anyway. When I got there (without my posse this time), I discovered that the cardiologist had ordered a 12 lead EKG which had to be run and interpreted before Daddy could be released into the wild. By the time that was done, and everything was in order, it was after 11:00. Daddy had been talking about calling the whole thing off and going back to bed for nearly an hour, but he was happy enough to leave.
On Sunday night, I had slept in bed with my mother, and on Monday night, I felt I shouldn't be too far away should my parents need me, so I slept on the couch. I don't know if Charlotte remembers this, or if I even told her, but on one occasion when she planned to visit our folks and sleep on the couch, I stated emphatically that I would not do that. But I did, and quite soundly, too.
Daddy's doctors had found absoulutely nothing wrong with him. His defibrillator checked out fine, it hadn't fired, and it was pacing appropriately. His labs were within normal parameters. He had no fever. His enlarged prostate started behaving itself within a few hours of admission to the hospital. I believe he exhausted himself taking care of, and worrying about, his wife.
posted by Jeannette | 10:38 AM
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