November 10, 2015. Dad had another good night’s sleep. At 4:00 A.M., I took a short break from work and woke Dad and Michell. They progressed through their morning routine without any hitches, but Dad was a bit apprehensive about today’s trip to dialysis. Although today’s transit service to dialysis would be with the wheelchair transit and not the gurney service, he was probably nervous about being moved from the wheelchair with the Hoyer lift. It was supposed to be a safe way to move less ambulatory patients, but it was an unknown entity for us. Before the transit van arrived, we positioned the Hoyer sling under Dad so that the nurse could attach it to the lift when he reached the dialysis center.
When Michell and Dad arrived at the dialysis center, instead of using the Hoyer lift, the EMTs picked up Dad and placed him in the dialysis chair. We had hoped that the nurse at the dialysis center would weigh Dad in the wheelchair so that we could establish a dry weight for him, but the EMTs were too fast. When Dad’s session was finished, Michell encountered a couple of EMTs who had just dropped off a patient. She was able to convince them to transport them home, which enabled Michell and Dad to arrive home at 11:15 A.M., which tied our record time.
Between my working and Dad’s three hours’ worth of naps, I didn’t see him except for trach care until happy hour. He seemed well rested, and by 7:45 P.M., he had beat us at Oh Hell. He headed for bed, and we were finished with our nighttime routine by 8:15 P.M. Our mornings and nights were starting to run like well-oiled machines.
November 11. Dad had another good night. I might have heard him cough twice. At 7:45 A.M., I was between meetings and wanted to administer trach care and meds, but Dad was still in bed and didn’t want to get up. I told him that he was a lazy bones and that we’d have to make “Lazy Bones” his theme song. He smiled, didn’t open his eyes, but started singing the song.
With the assistance of Michell, he finally got out of bed and got himself shaved and washed up by 8:30 A.M. It was Wednesday—change out day for the aides. Michell was packed up and ready to leave, but she couldn’t go until Gale arrived. Gale was running about an hour late, and she eventually arrived around 11:00 A.M. The ladies exchanged information about Dad, and Michell was on her way.
Mom and Dad met about finances for a while this morning, and then Dad took a short nap before Stephanie, the nurse, arrived. She was also running late, but she finally arrived at 1:00 P.M. Stephanie said that Dad’s vitals were all good and that his lungs sounded clear. She also said that she saw some signs of his bedsore starting to heal. I asked her about the odds of Dad being released from Home Health Care on the 24th. She didn’t think that that would happen, and said that Dad’s home care would most likely be extended an additional 60 days. I wasn’t sure how the process worked, and I had been asking every caregiver for her opinion. The thought that we’d be discharged after our initial 60 day period unnerved me. I was almost out of the lubricant that I used for Dad’s trach. Before Stephanie left, I showed her the package and asked if she could find us some extra packets.
Before Stephanie’s car left the driveway, Brenda pulled up behind her for Dad’s physical therapy session. I didn’t watch the session, but from what I could hear, it seemed like she was working with him on transfers. I once heard her say that Dad got an A on something that he did, but not an A+. At the end of the session, she said that he got a gold star for the day. I had to laugh to myself as I wondered about the type of psychology that they employed to get him to cooperate. On her way out, Brenda stopped by my office and asked me about the rubber mat for the shower that I had agreed to get during our discussion on November 6. I had forgotten to order one, but I promised that I would find one. I also asked her about the chances of us being discharged on the 24th, and she also didn’t think that it was likely. Gale asked her about the exercises that they should concentrate on until she returned on Friday. Whenever the providers left the house, they sat in their cars and updated their notes about their visits with Dad. Before Brenda had pulled out of the driveway, I had ordered Dad’s bath mat from Amazon.
Shortly after Brenda left, Mom and Gale helped Dad use the walker and he walked 48 feet. I logged off from work shortly after 4:30 P.M. and told Dad that I needed to change his trach, and that we’d all be happier if I took care of that chore before happy hour. I grabbed my two TV trays and my assistant, Gale, and we ushered Dad into the bedroom. I probably didn’t need an aide to help me, but I felt better having one of them there with me. Sometimes I forgot to bring something, or I needed an extra hand. For the first time in about six weeks, Dad’s trach was not crusty. The weather had been bad and he’d been forced to stay indoors and away from the dry air.
Dad won at cards again. Before he went to bed, I had Gale administer the meds and the trach care. Gale had said that she would handle Dad’s trach care while I was out of town for a couple of days this week. I was hoping that I could also convince Michell to do the same when I left for a couple of days in December. Gale did a great job, but to ease her mind some, I typed up some notes that detailed every step of the basic routine trach care and the med prep processes. I would be gone for about 48 hours, so she would not need to know how to change his trach.
November 12. Shortly before 3:30 A.M., I heard Dad call for Gale to help him to find the urinal. I got up shortly after that and woke them. I watched as Gale handled all of the meds and routine trach care this morning—her last practice run before I left for Houston. Everything ran smoothly, and we were ready when the wheelchair van arrived at 5:50 A.M., some 20 minutes early.
While I was working, I heard the audio caller ID on my parents’ landline announce in a distorted voice that we were receiving a call from Watts Prison. For a moment I considered letting the call go to voicemail, but my curiosity got the better of me. I laughed out loud when the caller identified herself as Kristen Watts. So that she didn’t think that I was a nutcase, I quickly explained why I was laughing. After exchanging schedule information, we agreed on Monday and Wednesday sessions at 2:00 P.M. for Dad’s swallow therapy. Her first visit with us would be on Monday, four days from now. I practically ran out of the office to find Mom and share the good news!
I received a call from Gale at 12:20 P.M., stating that she and Dad were on their way home from dialysis. I waited until they got home, and then I left for Houston. The last time that I had been home was on September 22. During that three-day visit, I had come home to pack a few items that I would need during Dad’s final days in hospice.
Gale had her first solo run with the meds and trach care right after I left. Dad took a nap until 3:00 P.M. and was up for the remainder of the day. The three of them played cards, and Mom won again. Gale got Dad in bed by 8:00 P.M. and had no problem administering his night time meds and trach care.
That evening, I attended my photography class. The last time that I had seen my classmates, I told them that I had just finished making hospice arrangements for my father. We had had quite a change in fortune since late September. I had been attending class with some of these people for more than five years, and I had known the instructor since 2008. It felt good to be with them again, and they were very excited about Dad’s progress.
November 13. Dad had had another great night, and he slept until Gale woke him at 8:00 A.M. Shortly after Dad was out of bed and dressed, Gale noticed that the line from the nebulizer was dry, which meant that Dad wasn’t receiving any moisture with his oxygen. She called Jared from American HomePatient, and he came over immediately. It seemed that we were supposed to change the water bottle every two weeks. Gale added this missing tidbit of information to our list of chores, but it would have been nice to know this about six weeks earlier. Jared and the other representatives who set up Dad’s home care room probably did tell us everything that we needed to do, but this orientation occurred amid a whirlwind of activity with no written instructions left behind.
Stephanie, the nurse, came by around noon to take Dad’s vitals and check his bedsore. She said that the bedsore was healing nicely and that it was looking great. Bless her heart; Stephanie also brought us enough trach lubricant to last for a couple of months. These home care nurses were wonderful. In hindsight, I don’t know if I ever told them how much I appreciated them.
When Brenda stopped by later for Dad’s physical therapy session, she had Dad practice a dry run (literally) getting in and out of the shower with the new mat. She didn’t have him walk today, but she had him run through a series of bed exercises.
My Mom’s dear friend, Marilyn, stopped by around 3:30 P.M. with a nice arrangement of mums and visited with my parents for about an hour. Mom hadn’t resumed her social life, and she benefited by having her friend visit.
Meanwhile, I was in Houston. While I had been in Temple with my parents, my employer had arranged for new office space on our campus. I would be moving from a cubicle to an open-space environment with less room for books and personal belongings. I spent most of the day in my cube, throwing out paper. I filled up three trash cans and three recycle bins, and was still not finished. Stan was thrilled when I brought home three boxes of personal items.
November 14. Dad seemed to be on a roll. He had another great night’s sleep. He and Gale ran through their morning routine and arrived at the dialysis center shortly before 7:00 A.M. It was a slow day for the EMS transport service, so the wheelchair transport arrived shortly after Gale called them, and then she and Dad arrived home shortly before noon.
Dad was tired and was ready for a nap after Gale administered the midday meds and trach care. After Dad had drifted off to sleep, Gale left the room.
While I was in Houston, I ran several errands, stopped by the office to throw out more paper and prepare my belongings for the move, and got a haircut. I encountered several friends and happily told them about how well Dad was progressing. When I started my return trip to Temple at 2:00 P.M., I was feeling positive about how we were getting along.
Shortly after I left Houston, Dad woke up from his nap and needed to use the bedside commode. Instead of calling for assistance, he decided that he could get out of bed and into the bathroom without assistance. Not surprisingly, he fell as soon as he took one step from the bed. Gale heard the commotion through the baby monitor and ran to Dad’s room. She was unable to lift him off of the floor to get him back into the bed. She called for my mother for assistance. It took the two of them almost an hour to get him back into bed so that she could assess any damage caused by the fall. Not only had he been attached to the tube feed, but the oxygen was also attached to his trach collar, which was cupped over the trach tube. While on the floor, he had put a tremendous strain on his G-tube and he was lucky that he didn’t decannulate himself during the fall. After Gale had straightened out the mess caused by the mishap, she helped Dad transfer into the wheelchair.
An hour or so later, Dad wheeled himself into the kitchen and asked Mom not to tell me about his fall. She said that she wouldn’t tell me about the incident, as long as he promised not to try to get out of bed again without assistance.
When I arrived at my parents’ home shortly before 5:00 P.M., I was greeted by what seemed like a happy household. We had a nice happy hour, and after dinner, we played two games of Oh Hell. Gale was excited to win the first game, and Mom won the second game.
When we finished playing cards, Gale told me that she wanted to take a shower. She said that I might want to read her log book to catch up on the activities that occurred while I was gone. I read her notes about today’s fiasco and was horrified, appalled, and furious. Such a stunt could have seriously hurt him. I spoke with Gale before I went to bed, and she was very upset. She said that she had never experienced such an incident before and was not sure that she wanted to return, which would be a tremendous loss for all of us. Not only would we lose a wonderful caregiver, but we also were very fond of her.
Fuming, I went upstairs and called Stan. The poor guy got an earful as I unloaded my frustrations of Dad’s day. He talked me down and told me to approach Dad and his resistance to following instructions in terms of my fears. He wasn’t kidding. Dad was his own worst enemy, and like Gale, I was afraid to let him out of my sight.
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