What a crappy day! I had just got home from school, kids sick, bills over-due and loony tune sister decides to throw a spanner in the works because …well just because. I had just sat down at my dining room table, head in hands and I heard the message.
“Hi Liz. It’s me …well I am in my room at Cottage…so call…”
I never got the first phone call; Dad is 89 and quite simple called a different daughter.
I am my Mom and Dad’s Medical Rep. I do my best to keep the comfortable and happy and their care in some order. We have it all pretty dialed in. I am the point person and I try to support the Dr’s, Nurses and Caregivers. I do check in and discharge and after discharge planning, I help put together the care plan for in home care.
But this one kind of had a loopy quality. After a couple of weeks of feeling weak Dad used his unimpeachable good sense and just called 911 and got to the hospital. When it was revealed that he had lost a lot of blood, ya gotta know, I was shakin’ in my shoes a bit. My fiancé’, a nursing student has been a grace to this present process.
With Dad fairly comfortable at Cottage (the NEW restaurant like food and service serves up some pretty swank grub! Ala Cart with some stunning plating!)… we wait to find out the trouble. The blood loss could indicate “ a bleed”. An internal bleed in any body is bad…but in an 89-year-old man is serious. The Cottage staff was impeccable and the added feature of my lovely and VERY patient fiancé’, Nate, helped immensely. Nate suddenly has an interest in all things medical (being in nursing school…I call him “Nurse Nate and Dr. Nate and boy am I happy he has this new found interest! I have been the medical manager for my family for over a decade and I am bloody well exhausted.
So after nine days at Cottage we get to the diagnosis. Lymphoma-stomach-localized-treatable. A collective sigh was had by all in our clan. Just not quite read to see the old guy go. Dad has a mantra, ”I want to see my Grandson graduate from high School…turn 21—drive a car..” He holds it up like a beacon and he is a stubborn Scot—so we believe him. But this diagnosis has lots of layers and a rather slow paced fix. After two trips to the Cancer Center at Cottage for a CT and tattoo on Dad’s belly we are ready to start. Unfortunate it is the Holidays and there is Queue for radiation therapy. Seriously. So Dad’s tummy is still bleeding a we are…. waiting.
I sent emails and posted on Facebook. Let’s cheer Dad up and send cards and letters! As in real-pony-express-slow-boat-in-the-mail-hand-written----letters. It is a queer thing to ask for…unless your us. We are weird and our Iowa-Ian lineage is made of people that are moved by the literal-written word.
671 Pilgrim Terrace Dr.
SB, Ca 93101
So keep those cards and letters coming!
I don’t know…maybe I am crazy. I just think the general stream of energy will help infuse him until the radiation can tamp down the bleed. Let’s call it the “Who-Ville” approach to medicine. Until the “real” radiation is administered let’s make some of our own and do the spiritual circle up for Dad. Let’s send cards and good thoughts until the real deal can be had. Hey-who knows—maybe the “real deal” actually comes from inside of each of us. From our energy. Ya know—a kind of “Celestine Prophesy” kind of thing. Think of the healing and the healing will come!
Whether it is by card, letter, email, E-Card or thought.
Please send some love to Clyde .It ain’t over yet and he has a very good chance at a full recovery
Today my son and I went to Hobby Central…what a cool place. We found a model of Dad’s WWII plane. A PBY-5 and the guys there were amazingly cool! I met a Mr. Van Wyke and he was simply a darling man. He shouted at the proprietor—“Now you take care of these folks (my son and I) …they are good people and her Dad is a WWII Naval Aviator” Then Mr. Van Wyke turned to me and said something very important.“Turn the camera on your Dad and get him to tell his story.These stories will soon be dead.”
Clyde loves to tell a story!
So my son and I plan to sit in Grandpa’s living room and just let him talk.
And Clyde LOVES to talk.
It is so funny how the universe will just wrap its arms around you.
Just let go and let…what ever you believe in—IN!