Independence and dependence

On Friday afternoon, in the middle of the Fourth of July revelry, my father began suffering symptoms apparently caused by his pulmonary problems. These symptoms included chills, spikes in his blood pressure, and a difficulty with breathing. Niece Lily first noticed the symptoms, and after taking his blood pressure several times, Momma, Dad and I drove over to St. Joseph's hospital on Peachtree Dunwoody Road in Atlanta.

At this point, the attending nursing staff began triage on my father and decided he needed to be admitted in order to normalize his symptoms. From there, we entered the emergency headquarters, where my father was strapped up to any number of machines designed to monitor his vital signs and to pump oxygen into his lungs. After six to eight hours of sitting in an er room, I came to a passable knowledge concerning the flashing numbers on the monitor and could read what was a problem and what was not.

After several hours of treatment, oxygen and antibiotics, my father's condition stabilized; however, a doctor determined that he needed to be in the Intensive Care Unit until his levels were made stable.

At this point, they wheeled him through various empty hallways in which were stacked numerous beds and gurneys, until finally we reached the waiting room for the icu. The lights were predominately off and there were various chairs and sofas present. In one particularly dark corner I discovered someone sleeping on a couch. I felt a little like I was a supporting actor in a Fellini movie. However, a large nurse came into the darkened waiting room and informed us that we could come in and see my father in his new quarters for a few moments before we would need to leave my father to the prodders, pokers, and other tsk tskers in the ICU unit.

We came back home and found everyone awake. Kate was baking pies. Cindy was playing cards with Lily. Even Tex was watching expectantly. By two thirty in the morning, we were all back in bed, although perhaps not asleep.

The next morning, I awoke, and Kate and Lily and I drove over to Mount Vernon Highway and a place to watch the Dunwoody Fourth of July Parade for 2009. Susan, Kevin and the girls soon joined us and Cheryl, Gareth and Kevin's mom were soon to follow. The parade was long and a good way to get our minds of the unspoken subject. After the parade, we walked down to the nearby shopping center and ordered Boy Scout barbecue, beans, cole slaw, brownies and watermelon from the scout leaders. Everybody in Dunwoody seemed to be there. There were hot dogs and hamburgers, cokes and beers, rides for the kids and music for the more patriotic in attendance.

For a few hours, our minds were off the part of the show occuring a few miles to the southwest of us. Later that afternoon, Kate and I drove over to the hospital and saw my father. He seemed better and his vital signs were more normal and steady. Dad turned on the Braves and we watched a few innings with him while the machinery took note of his bodily functions and pumped fluids into his arms.

After our thirty minutes in the ICU, Kate and I left and things started to go down hill. The first sign was found when the Braves lost their lead over the other team. This was followed, unbeknownst to us, by a prick on Dad's lung, which resulted in his loosing pressure in his lung, which caused the lung to deflate. At this point, the ICU personnel re-inflated his lung, only to inflate a good bit of his body. His face looked like a full moon and his arms looked like Popeye. He could hardly talk and his breathing was labored.

On Tuesday, after Lily, Kate, Patti and I drove around the northern part of the state of Georgia on foreclosure cryouts, Lily and I entered the hospital and entered the room with Mom, Susan, Cindy and Dad. We stayed for awhile, then Mom, Cindy and Lily and I went out to eat in a Mexican restaurant in Dunwoody. Later, Cindy and I drove home and found Kate taking the whole festival of healthcare a little too much to take. Last night, Cindy and Kate slept in the master bed and I slept on the couch in the living room. Even Tex was in the master suite.

Perhaps I will get better sleep tonight.

As I said earlier, It is very difficult when the parents that you previously depended on for support and comfort, now look to you for the same type of assistance. I suppose we all go through this at some point or another. It doesn't make it any easier.

Thank God for friends and neighbors who show their empathy and compassion in these times. Where might we be without them?