Month: April 2005

Because I figure most of you readers aren’t logging in for news about my dad’s surgery, I’ve decided to put up a new blog about it. You can check in there for updates on his recovery and recuperation, while I fill this blog with its usual fare. Here’s the RSS feed for the site, so you can get updates as they become available. I just posted a little news a few minutes ago.

In the meantime, I promised goofy posts, so here’s a link on how to shave a cat’s nose.

Dad got moved from the ICU upstairs to the regular cardiac ward today. The orderlies sorta dropped him into bed, which caused him immense amounts of pain, but he’s doing okay. His throat’s a mess, from the extended use of the breathing tube, so swallowing his pills has been tough.

To put it bluntly, he’s pretty miserable right now. But he knows this is all for the best, and we’re both amazed by the fact that bypass patients are usually able to leave the hospital 4-6 days after surgery.

So make with the hopes and prayers for a speedy recovery, wouldja?

And be well. If you’re reading this, it means you care.

Dad’s still got a little internal bleeding to deal with. I called the ICU this morning, and the nurse told me that they topped him off with another pint; she didn’t sound overly concerned about his condition, which I took as a good sign.

His surgeon’s coming in later today to assess his condition and see if he should be stepped down from ICU. I’m in the office for the morning, and I’ll head over to see him this afternoon. I figure he’s getting sick of seeing my mug all the darn time.

Evidently, either my company has decided to flout child labor laws in my week-long absence, or it’s one of those “bring your kid to work day” things. I’m sorta hoping it’s the former, so I can push off the Top Companies issue on these tykes.

The 2pm visit was good. Dad’s been moved up into a chair, which will help his lungs drain. He’s pissed off, miserable and complaining, which we take as good signs, since it means he’s involved. His strongest emotional reaction came when his girlfriend told him that some guy named Constantine got booted off of American Idol last night. “You mean… they kept that fat f*** on the show? It’s all rigged…” he rasped.

Which is to say, he’s talking. When I saw him this morning, they were just taking the breathing mask off of him, and putting oxygen tubes in his nose. He tried signing some letters to me to spell a word, but I had ZERO idea what he was trying to convey.

The nurse told him, “You can speak, sir.”

He rasped something, so I leaned in. This time, he said, “Transfusion?”

I said, “Yeah. You had so much internal bleeding that they had to perform a transfusion.” I knew he was terrified of getting someone else’s blood, for dated reasons, but I had to be honest with him.

He looked crestfallen, and shrugged with his eyebrows. So I did have to be honest, but I didn’t have it in me to tell him that they’d already put in 6 units by the time I ran out last night. His girlfriend says she thinks they maxed out an even dozen pints, before his blood pressure finally got up to a good level.

Anyway, his numbers are all looking good, and the nurses anticipate stepping him down to the cardiac ward tomorrow, if the numbers keep improving and they have a bed available. I’m gonna nap for a while then head back for the 8:30pm session.

Thanks again. I promise to post some goofy/funny stuff this weekend.

Just called the cardiac ICU: They said they got Dad’s internal bleeding to subside overnight, and are getting ready to pull his breathing tube!

They’re in the process of bringing him up from the anesthesia, and he should be able to talk to us by the time the 9am visiting session starts (it’s about 8:15 right now).

PS: Thanks for the reiki, Tina.

Dad’s not out of the woods yet. He has internal bleeding that hasn’t ceased yet, so the cardiac staff’s not going to bring him out of anesthesia and off the respirator yet. This seems to fall within the parameters of what they’re used to in the ICU, but I was unable to handle the emotional roller-coaster of it, and had to leave.

I’m really hoping that, when I get up tomorrow morning and call the cardiac ICU, they’ll tell me that the bleeding’s stopped and they plan to remove the breathing tube in the next couple of hours.

For those of you who are into the thoughts-and-prayers side of things, I’d greatly appreciate it if you’d devote some of those to us.

Dad succesfully underwent a quintuple bypass this morning! The surgeon says that it went well.

(Dad didn’t say anything, since he’s currently unconscious in the cardiac intensive care unit, but he oughtta be awake in a couple of hours.)

Thanks again for all the support! (We’ll need it during his rehab/recuperation)

Today was a lot better. Dad was in better spirits, despite his unerring ability to make The Wrong Comment (“They got me a single room, here on Death Row”), and all of us had gotten a bunch of much-needed rest.

I spent a few hours with him and his girlfriend at the hospital. A third surgeon came by today, and convinced Dad to go with a different procedure for the bypass. This one involves keeping the heart beating, rather than shutting it down during the grafting process, so as to prevent the brain from suffering any oxygen deprivation.

The surgeon also contended that he could bypass all six of Dad’s blocked arteries. By the time I arrived, Dad and his girlfriend had elected to go with this other surgeon.

The operation’s scheduled to begin (with pre-op) around 7am tomorrow. I hope to have good news to report by noon.

Following a scary missed (and mis-)diagnosis by his cardiologist last week, my dad had an angiogram this morning; he has 100% blockage of three arteries in his heart. He’s having a bypass performed on Wednesday.

I haven’t done much eating or sleeping these past few days, and I sure won’t be doing any blogging till after his operation. I appreciate the well-wishes I’ve received from some of you already, as well as those to come.

Thanks.

Update: Sorry to put up such an apocalyptic-reading post. I was pretty wrecked by the time I got home last night, and didn’t know what to write. I want to add that both surgeons with whom we consulted said that Dad’s a “perfect candidate” for this operation, and that there’s very little chance (0.5-2.0%) that anything will go wrong on Wednesday. So, while I’m still incredibly worried for my dad’s life, the surgeons aren’t portraying it as a very risky procedure.

Thanks again for all the e-mails. It means so much to me to know that I have such wonderful friends all over this world.

Because of family health issues, I’m not going to be able to post anything for the next few days.