Blip

After the highs of the past few days, one would expect a few lows. At least this one is just a little low.

Last night Becky and I went to see Dad and when we got there he started vomiting. Since he had just started eating after essentially a 40-day fast (which maybe only Jesus or perhaps Gandhi could pull off), we thought it seemed reasonable. When I came in today, the medical staff had discovered a different reason. They think Dad has a nonmechanical bowel obstruction/ileus. The doctor's opinion and an x-ray pretty much confirm it. Apparently this is hardly unexpected for a patient who has been lying in bed as long as Dad has. (For those of you who don't have time to check out that link, basically an ileus is the inability of the bowel to move even though there's nothing blocking it.) In most cases this will resolve on its own in a few days, but they can't feed him or have him on the feeding tube until everything is okay. They're giving Dad medication for the vomiting and he's "okay" if a bit weak (and sleepy). But hiccups is one of the symptoms and that's pretty frustrating when you feel so crappy. :(

The good thing is, even with all the vomiting Dad doesn't appear to have had any problems with aspirating, so his lungs are still sounding clear. AND he was also able to do a little physical therapy today. What a trouper.

Because of this little blip, the doctor wants to keep him in ICU. Please pray that this obstruction will be resolved quickly so he can make that move soon.

Food, glorious food

Another amazing day. I am so overcome it's hard to know what to say.

Today was pretty much about food. When I walked in this morning, I didn't get a "hi" or an "I love you," I got, "Can I have some hot food?" Dad was desperate for something to eat. He had to settle for crunching on ice chips until the doctor came in. After the doctor checked him out and was impressed by his progress, he said, "Leo, would you like some food?" Dad gave him the biggest, cheesiest grin he has! Right away the doctor ordered lunch and I got to feed Dad some yummy hospital food (we have no idea what it was, it was the pureed version of whatever was for lunch). Mmmmm. When he was almost finished with lunch, my uncle Gene said, "I'll bet you'd really like some coffee." Another big, cheesy grin. (By evening the nutritionist approved him to drink coffee! Somewhere, Juan Valdez rejoices.)

I have to tell you, in just the last two days Dad has gone from being almost unintelligible to much more clear speech. I can probably understand about two thirds of what he says now, especially when it's just one word at a time. A funny example: Mom asked him this evening who had visited him earlier, he said, "EVERYBODY!" (At one point there were about nine people in the room to see him. Plus the nurse!)

Dad is amazing everyone. His nurse today hadn't seen him for a couple of weeks and was blown away. At one point early in his recovery, his doctor told us he was "exceeding expectations." That's what Dad has always been about.

Miracle Man

There are so many wonderful things to share today, I'm just going to list them:

1. They did a swallowing test with Dad this morning and determined that he'll be able to start eating pureed food.

2. His blood pressure is remaining stable, his breathing is great, his lungs are healing.

3. The doctor says he expects to move Dad out of ICU by the end of the weekend.

4. I got Dad to give me a kiss today, AND I made him laugh three times (at first I thought he was choking! :))

5. Amy the respiratory therapist and my Diet Coke connection came in and offered me a drink. Dad said, "I want some water!" (They wouldn't let him have it then, but later in the evening got the okay, so he drank almost a whole glass!)

6. During physical therapy, Dad sat up again and was able to use his arms to push away the therapist at the same time as well as swinging his legs. He did so well, the PT said, "Leo, you want to try standing?" He agreed and was able to stand up, supported by the PT, twice.

I don't know if I've forgotten anything, there was so much today I'm overwhelmed! I will also add that I asked Dad a few questions to see if he's had any memory loss and he was able to answer all my questions. I held up one of your get-well cards in front of him and asked him if he could read it. His brow furrowed and I quickly said, "could you read it if I brought your glasses?" and he nodded.

How blessed are we to watch so many miracles unfold?

The most beautiful sound I've ever heard

I cannot even begin to describe this awesome day. When Mom and I walked into Dad's room today, I leaned over to give him a kiss and said, "Daddy, I love you." And today, for the first time in 37 days, he said, "I love you." Yes, you read that right. DAD IS TALKING!!! It's very unintelligible right now, but I understood those three precious words very, very clearly. I said the other day that every nod is like a gift...well, today was like Christmas and your birthday for five years rolled together.

As if that wasn't enough, just after I had finished mopping up from bawling all over Dad, the physical therapist came in. I had actually been hoping that we would be in time to see that today. The therapist got him seated on the edge of the bed and then let go to see if Dad was stable enough to sit up by himself. He sat there, holding himself upright for at least five minutes!! AND his blood pressure didn't go up with the exertion this time!! The physical therapist said he was amazed. "Your Dad made my day!"

Well, folks, Dad sure made MY day. I have a feeling he's going to keep making my day a lot as he recovers!

WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO HOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Everything is good

Dad's scan came out just fine, no evidence of any stroke. They are saying **Reader alert: snarky comment** what I could have told them **end snarky comment** that Dad is likely so fatigued he is unable to respond the way the nurse expected. But we are very glad they did everything to make sure he was all right.

They are giving Dad more and more time off the BiPAP to work his lungs. When Mom and I visited him this evening, he was breathing so much easier on his own. It's wonderful to see. He was obviously tired from the activity of the day (his facility is not a full hospital, so he took a ride to a regular hospital to have the scan done), so he was pretty sleepy when we were there, but even tired he's showing an even bigger range of motion in his right arm than I've seen before.

Thank you for your prayers. These ups and downs are so hard, but we rest comfortably in all your intercession on Dad's behalf.

If you could...

Please pray right now. The nurse has some concerns that Dad might have had a stroke because his left side is weaker than it was when she last worked with him (Saturday). The main concern is if there is bleeding in his brain from this, it would be exacerbated by the medication they are giving him for his blood clots. Right now he is being transported to a nearby hospital where they can get a scan to let them know.

I'll do a full update once he gets back from having the scan.

The Fire Swamp

In the novel/film The Princess Bride the hero and heroine must face dangers in the Fire Swamp. It's a place full of enormous rodents, flames that spurt from the ground and patches of "snow sand" (kind of like quicksand) that no one is known to have made it through alive. After being bitten, set on fire, and nearly drowned within the first few minutes, the hero observes that the rest of their journey will be easier because, though they will still have to travel through the swamp, the experiences they've had have given them knowledge about the way things work in the swamp that will help them get through.

On December 3rd, Dad entered the Fire Swamp. And though he hasn't made it out yet, each day offers more information on how to get through. One example: the doctor wants Dad to have some time off the BiPAP because breathing on his own will help Dad's lungs clear and get stronger. But it's been a delicate balance finding the right amount of time that exercises his lungs without tiring him out too much.

Dad was pretty tired today. He was awake for almost the entire day yesterday, dealing with the on/off BiPAP issue and then having physical therapy for the first time in several days this morning. But his blood pressure continues to respond to medication, his lungs are clearing, and he's moving more each day.

And it is an unbelievable joy to know now that when he's awake he's "awake." Even days like today when he's so tired he doesn't seem to be able to respond, he always manages to give a nod or a squeeze of the hand to let you know he's with you. It amazes me every time. Every nod is like a little gift.

Speaking of gifts, your comments and e-mails continue to bless us all. Thank you all so much.

Note: Sorry for the delay in getting this posted (as you can see from the time stamp, I've been trying since last night!). Computer issues prevented me from getting connected online.

Epiphany

Traditionally January 6th is the day the Magi came to see the infant Jesus. It marks the beginning of the season of Epiphany for the church. Epiphany means a showing forth: God being shown for who He is, as He was revealed in Christ.

Today is another epiphany. Dad is being shown for the tough, persistent, loving man he is. All morning long, he has been working his body, trying to see what he can do (lots of movement in his right arm, more and more in his left, bending his knees completely and moving his feet, shrugging his shoulders, lifting his head...and trying to talk). Since Friday, each day has been better than the last. His lungs are showing some clearing, his blood pressure has been responding to medication, and he is not losing any more blood volume (so no more transfusions).

Yesterday the nurse taking care of Dad was the one who had had to give him the blood transfusion on New Year's Day. When she talked about the change in how he was doing, she said, "Huh. I guess he's going to make fools of us all."

Way to show 'em what you're made of, Dad.