My poor little lab partner!

Brace yourselves. Just want to be upfront, it has NOT been a pretty couple of weeks. But don't worry, I think I see the light at the end of the tunnel (this particular one, anyways)...and it's in the form of Rod Stewart singing the classics on DWTS and 10mg of diazapam. Mmmmm...

I just want you all to know that I, as a person, have changed drastically. And unfortunately no, not in the way that could get me on Oprah. Although, I guess some would call it an "ah-ha moment" as I stood outside my chemistry lab this afternoon, safety goggles on forehead, screaming and crying (a la Shirley Maclaine in Terms of Endearment) at the home health nurse on the phone that she "better find his goddamn vein and start the f*ing antibiotics...LIKE NOW!! I AM LOSING MY MIND!!" I may not be too cute anymore, but I'm certainly still a head turner.

So why the IV antibiotics? Well. Let. Me. Tell. You. UGH. I would estimate that for the past 3 weeks, Dad has been markedly declining. Yes, I said it, he's been getting worse (like I said, Little Miss Sunshine is long gone). His muscles were so tight I could barely dress him. He started the profuse sweating thing again. He never slept. He was grinding his teeth constantly. He certainly hasn't been talking or mouthing words. Needless to say he's been miserable. So last weekend, the kicker: he started running a fever. I took him to the ER. The triage nurse was so nice to me I actually started crying (and resented her for it?) and then naturally...after waiting three hours...there's nothing wrong with him. Must be some neurological thing. "That'll be a $150 co-pay. Thank you for your business, Goodbye!"

I mean, when you're sick, the last thing you want to hear is that there's nothing you can do but "wait it out." I just wanted him to feel better! I just want to know he's not in acute pain. He can't tell me it hurts, but his body is telling us something is wrong. And sometimes it seems like a doctor will just glance through his file, see that his prognosis is like, nada, and write it off as though it's a waste of time to do anything. Believe me, I get it. But we have to try something, right? Right?? Is that so much to freaking ask? See...getting all worked up.

Cut to precisely one week later. Damn culture takes too long to grow, if you ask me. Raging Pseudomonas urinary tract infection. Now, if you've never had a UTI, count your blessings. So painful. And he's probably had it for a good 2 weeks. So although I cringe to think of how much pain he was in (and couldn't say anything!), and after much struggle, he is now on IV antibiotics here at home. I couldn't get an appointment to get a PICC line put in until tomorrow morning (almost 48 hours after the diagnosis! Umm...kidney infection? Bateremia? Sepsis? No, no, not a concern.) But I talked the home health nurse into coming out and putting in a temporary IV this afternoon to get him started. Now, it may be the addition of diazapam to his nightly routine as well, but he's already doing better. No more sweating, no fever, no teeth-grinding...just more peace. And oddly enough, more alert.

Maybe I'm totally irrational and crazy, and this past couple days is just how the system works and I better get used to it. I don't know, I've never done this before. But like I said, I think there's a light at the end of this tunnel. My guess would be this is first of many UTI's in his future but the lesson is to really focus attention on the ways his body can tell us when he's sick. I hate lessons.

Good news is he's already giving me kisses on the cheek again and I can hear him snoring from out here...music to my ears. So worth it.

*Thanks for all the wonderful emails! Keep 'em coming! Sorry if I didn't get a chance to email you back, but I will eventually and rest assured, I read your note to him...probably multiple times.