April 19, 2016. In the days following the removal of Dad’s PEG, a sense of normalcy seemed to descend on my parents’ home. Dad still had dialysis sessions on Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays, but we no longer had to deal with the PEG tube and the stoma, and Dad could get rid of his undershirts that we had customized to accommodate the tubing. Only the dialysis catheter still remained, and it would stay in place until the fistula was cured and ready for dialysis.
The amount of fluid that was removed from Dad during dialysis seemed to fluctuate widely. On one day, they would remove 2,200 ml, and two days later they would remove only 1,200 ml of fluid, which was the minimum level. It was hard to believe that fluid retention could vary by a liter. We tried to ensure that Dad adhered to his renal diet and couldn’t understand the fluctuations.
I traveled back to Houston for a few days and was astonished by the high water that I saw on the drive home. The Little River, which is often barely more than a trickle, looked like a boiling ocean and extended the entire width of the bridge. I had often wondered why the bridge over this pissant river was almost a mile long, and now I knew. The Brazos River was shockingly high as well. The news about the rain had made the national news, but this drive home gave me a first-hand glimpse of its aftermath. I had heard that a portion of US290 had been damaged during the flood, so I exited to FM99, only to be turned back because the road was underwater. Fortunately, the damage to US290 affected only one lane, so the slowdown was minimal. I suspected that I would start seeing some flooded neighborhoods as I approached Houston.
In 2004, my parents designed their current Temple home and contracted with Mike, the builder who had built their previous home, to turn their plans into reality. Several months before Dad entered the hospital in May 2015, the foundation cracked, causing cracks in the walls and the tile floors. A couple of weeks before Dad’s surgery, Mike repaired the foundation (at no cost to my parents). Mike had planned to let Dad contract his crew to repair the cracked drywall and tile when Dad returned from the hospital. Those plans were put on hold when Dad was discharged from the 148-day hospital stay to almost five months of home care. Not only would the work have been very disruptive, but Dad had a tracheostomy and could not be exposed to the fine dust from the tile work and drywall. Now, some 11 months later, the tradesmen had arrived and the final repair work was about to begin.
April 20. Today was my first day in the Houston office for the first time in a few weeks. On earlier trips to Houston, I had worked from my home office. It was nice to be back among my coworkers, some of whom I hadn’t seen in almost a year.
At 10:45 A.M., I received a text message from Sue, the dialysis nurse practitioner. I had contacted her earlier because Dad had been experiencing some irregularity, and I now never purchased any OTC medications without first asking her if they were safe for renal patients. In this instance, she told me that Dr. Issac, the nephrologist, recommended that Dad take Miralax. I passed along this message to Mom, and she said that she would have him start taking it.
Mom and Dad worked in the garden, and Dad decided to do some work on their irrigation system. After getting down on the ground, he couldn’t get up. Mom wasn’t strong enough to help him up, so she had him crawl over to the greenhouse steps, and from there he was able to sit and then stand up. I had no qualms about him getting on the ground to work in the garden, but it was important to have (stable) aids nearby that he could use to get back on his feet. Fortunately, their garden shed was next to the garden. He could also have crawled to the chairs on the patio, but he might have encountered some chiggers and fire ants on the way. Stan had seen a wagon in a gardening magazine that might be helpful to Dad, but we were fairly certain that Dad would not want us to order it.
Dad had a physical therapy session with Brenda today, but their session was cut short because of the pain in Dad’s back. Before she left, Brenda provided Dad with a list of exercises that she wanted him to perform before their next session. Dad wasn’t known for exercising between sessions, and I doubted whether he would do them.
April 21. It was another rainy day in Houston and Temple. We didn’t need the rain in Houston, and I didn’t like Mom driving Dad to dialysis in the rain. During dialysis, Dad had 1,200 ml of fluid removed.
When I spoke with Mom, she said that Dad had gotten up on the riding mower and spent about 15 minutes mowing the backyard. Many years earlier, Dad had had some terrible back problems, and a doctor (probably a surgeon) had recommended back surgery. Like me, my father had a career that required you to sit all day, which is terrible for your back. After my parents retired to a farm in Colorado, he spent a lot of time working outside and riding his tractor, and he swore that the tractor fixed his back. I assumed that he was looking to his riding mower for similar relief.
April 22. Stan and I had planned to spend the weekend in Temple but decided to go a day early instead of our usual Saturday. I worked for about seven hours, and he did some chores around the house before we left for Temple in two cars. Stan left around 1:45 P.M. and I followed him about 15 minutes later, but I arrived about 15 minutes before him. Although I might have a tiny bit of a heavy foot, he made two stops along the way to my one stop.
The weather was fabulous in Temple, so we enjoyed our happy hour drinks on the patio. Because today was Friday, we had tacos for dinner. Stan and I often teased my parents about their mealtime conventions. You could always tell what day it was by the breakfast and dinner menus. After dinner, we played Oh Hell, and I won, which broke my current losing streak.
April 23. Dad often complained about having to get up at 4:45 A.M. to get to dialysis, but he almost always woke up earlier, and this morning was no exception. According to my mother, he was awake and out of bed at 4:00 A.M. He went back to bed at 4:30 A.M. and she then had to wake him at 4:45 A.M.
Stan and I took my car to a local garage for an oil change, and then we drove to the nearby town of Buckholts for a short photo safari. During my many trips to and from Temple, I had passed an old abandoned house that I wanted to photograph, but I had never had the time to stop. The weather was still nice and we were able to spend some time away from the house. On our way back to my parents’ home, Stan stopped in Rogers and purchased some doughnuts. He said that the doughnuts were for Mom, but I think that he used her as an excuse to buy them for himself.
After lunch, Dad and I started preparing a stew for tonight’s dinner. He had purchased the vegetables, so the stew was chock full of vegetables that we didn’t see when Mom shopped. While the stew simmered, I had Dad take an hour nap. Mom and Stan were slaving in the backyard. Mom worked in her garden and the courtyard and Stan mowed the lawn, trimmed some bushes, and treated fire ant hills.
Both my parents made two disturbing statements today. Mom said that “it was a shame that my father had to end his life this way,” and Dad said that “it’s too bad that you have to have dialysis just to live.” I guess my perspective differed from my parents’. I was thrilled that he was here and that we were still able to have fun as a family. We’re the perfect example of viewing the glass as either half empty or half full.
April 24. I slept until I was awakened by the rising sun shining on my face. My room didn’t have curtains, but I rarely slept until sunrise. I finally got out of bed shortly before 7:00 A.M. and changed into my scrubs, which had become my new go-to early-morning clothes. Mom was downstairs, and I heard the familiar tone from the coffee maker that indicated that my coffee had finished brewing.
While Mom and I attended church, the guys were outside in the garden, spraying and doing a variety of miscellaneous yard maintenance chores. After lunch, the guys went back outside to do more spraying, and then they came inside to watch a golf tournament. Stan helped me put away some of the Christmas decorations that had been sitting on the floor in the storage room. Stan left shortly after 5:00 P.M. and arrived home around 8:00 P.M.
Mom, Dad, and I had drinks out on the patio, and Dad and I cooked hot dogs on the grill. For the first time in longer than I can recall, we watched TV after dinner instead of playing cards.
April 25. I had been working for about 45 minutes when I heard Dad’s wheelchair pass by the office en route to the kitchen. When I reminded him that he had four days a week that he could sleep in, he gave me a look of mock surprise. He liked to complain about having to wake up early for dialysis, but he also woke up early on his off days. I followed him into the kitchen to refill my coffee cup and heated him some water while I was there. A few minutes after finishing his coffee, I heard him return to the bedroom and get back into bed.
Mom woke up at 6:30 A.M. and stopped by the office to say good morning and tell me that Dad was still sleeping. He eventually woke up again around 7:00 A.M., which was when I went to the kitchen for breakfast.
I was glad that we didn’t have any planned meetings today with home-care health providers. Shortly after 9:00 A.M., Russell and his assistant arrived and started repairing broken tile. They worked until 3:00 P.M., which was when I also quit working for the day so that I could accompany Mom and Dad to the doctor’s office.
Dad’s PCP worked Tuesday through Friday, and not always from the Temple office, and it was difficult to see her within a reasonable amount of time. When I had asked our friend Sue if she could recommend another PCP for Dad, she had recommended Dr. Michael Martin. Dad met with him today for about 20 minutes. The doctor ordered some x-rays and bloodwork, and then we scheduled a follow-up appointment. On the drive home, we all agreed that we liked this doctor. In light of the decision to switch PCPs, Mom said that she would cancel Dad’s appointment with Sarla Patil on Wednesday, two days from now.
On the way home, we stopped by Walgreens to purchase birthday cards for a niece, nephew, and grandniece. Since becoming the last Locke of his generation in October of 2008, Dad had been keeping in touch with the children and grandchildren of his siblings. During his medical ordeal of the past year, Dad had maintained this correspondence, being unable to sign only one card, which Mom signed on his behalf.
Photo by Marcus Dall Col on Unsplash
I had to drive back to Houston this afternoon. I was already fighting to stay awake and decided to take a short nap during my lunch break, so I missed seeing the physical therapists when they arrived at 11:30 A.M. Dad was walking pretty well, but his recent back pain had affected his balance somewhat. Kathleen said that Brenda would focus more on his 
We had driven to the doctor’s office in two cars. After the appointment, I helped my parents into their car, drove to Starbucks for some coffee, and then started my drive to Houston at 3:19 P.M. The traffic was relatively light, but I was feeling drowsy when I reached Waller, approximately 40 miles from home. Fortunately, Waller had a 
April 15. Kristen, Dad’s swallow therapist, stopped by for her final session with Dad. Before she left, she said that Dad could start trying to swallow his pills. She encouraged him to start with very small pills and coat them in applesauce. Dad had been crushing the pills and mixing them with applesauce. Evidently, some of the pills tasted vile, so being able to swallow them would be a welcome change. Still, the thought of his swallowing pills made me nervous. I had been taking liquid vitamins for several years, and I suggested to Mom that we should ask Dr. Martin if Dad could swallow the pills with the liquid vitamins. When mixed with water, the liquid was a thickened liquid and quite slippery, which I thought might ease swallowing.
When the very nice officer handed me my driver’s license and warning, he advised me to watch my speed today. Because of several festivals in the area, there were many more patrol officers monitoring speeds than usual. As I eased back onto the highway, I noticed that I had stopped just a few yards shy of the posted 70 MPH sign. After setting my cruise control at 72 MPH, I arrived in Temple at 2:03 P.M.
After the church service, we mentioned to our friend Sue, who was also the nurse practitioner at the dialysis center, that Dad was still experiencing a lot of pain. She said that she would order x-rays for him. I also asked her about 
I thought that we also had an appointment for x-rays, but when we arrived in the radiology department, Dad was not on their schedule. I texted Sue because she had told me that she would enter an order for the x-rays. Evidently, she had encountered a problem with her computer, and then she became distracted and forgot to enter the orders. While we were in the radiology waiting room, the order appeared, and Dad was called by the technician after a short wait.
Before going to sleep, I called my husband in Houston. Evidently, Houston had received between 9-15 inches of rain, depending on the area of town. According to the news, this was the worst rain event since 
Even with their minor setback, my parents arrived on time to the doctor’s office. When they arrived at the clinic, Mom let Dad off at the door of the clinic so that he could check in while she parked. This simple act of letting Dad out in front of the building was a huge accomplishment. It wasn’t that long ago that it took an additional person in the car to help him out and into a wheelchair.
Dad also had an appointment today with Kristen, his swallow therapist. Unlike every other provider, you could set your watch by her, and as usual, she arrived on time. Today’s appointment was her first visit since Dad was readmitted to home care. Mom was glad to see her again, and Kristen worked with Dad for about an hour. Dad promised to work on his exercises over the weekend, and I hoped that he would.
April is prime time in central Texas for wildflower viewing. During my drive to Temple, I encountered heavy traffic near 
While my husband, Stan, was in town, he mowed the lawn and sprayed weeds. After lunch, Dad took a nap, and Stan and I drove to the 
April 4. I logged on to Dad’s MyChart account at Scott & White and saw that Dad’s appointment with Dr. Jaffers had been rescheduled to a later date. At the start of his office hours, I called Patsy, Dr. Jaffers’s secretary, to see why our appointment had changed. Her phone number had been one of the numbers that I had called in response to Dad’s bleeding after the surgery. When she heard that it was me calling, she said that she was getting ready to return my call from Friday evening. I also told her about the drainage of Dad’s dressing and thought that it should be changed. When I told her that I had photographed it with my phone, she asked me to text the photo to her cell. She soon returned my call and told me to take Dad to the dialysis center and have the nurses change his dressing. To ensure that we wouldn’t encounter a problem there, I called the charge nurse to let her know that the doctor had instructed us to drop by. Dad and Mom left a few minutes later and had no problem getting Renee, one of the nurses, to change the dressing. She and some of the others there were a little disturbed about the problems that he had encountered. Unbelievably, it seems that he was the first person ever to have problems of this nature. Of course.
This afternoon while I was working, I looked out the window and saw Dad holding the cane with his right hand and dragging a garden hose with the arm that had just had surgery. I immediately ran outside to help him. My major concern was that he might fall, but he also seemed out of breath, and then there was the issue with his arm. I got him to rest for a minute before he headed out to the garden to see my mother, who was planting cucumber seeds. It was pretty warm out, so I wasn’t wild about either them being in the direct sun.
After lunch, Dad took a nap. He was sleeping soundly, and I had a difficult time waking him. He finally got up at 2:45 P.M., 45 minutes after I started trying to wake him. The rest of the day went well. He and I talked about dinner plans for Saturday, and I went to the store to buy him a battery and some food. After dinner, we played cards, and Mom won.
I spoke with Dana and then Julie at the 
A few days ago, Dad and I had created a recipe for ham loaf, and tonight we prepared it for dinner. Dad also wanted carrots for dinner, and I found an interesting recipe in Mom’s cookbook. My parents had had a good friend who used to serve us ham loaf every time we ate at her house. Mom had never prepared it, and Dad and I were anxious to see if we had created a dish that she would like. Dad and I liked it, but it was a bit high in sodium, which wasn’t good for Dad. We decided, and Mom agreed, that it would be a good use for leftover ham.
We played cards after dinner. Mom and Dad went to bed early so that they would be well rested for Dad’s fistula surgery tomorrow. When I went to the office to shut down my computer, I became distracted with work and didn’t get around to calling Stan until after 9:00 P.M. This time might not seem late, but whenever I deviated from my schedule—calling later or earlier—my husband was concerned that something was wrong. Living on pins and needles had become our new normal.
Dad wanted to prepare his family-favorite Locke’s Lasagna for dinner, but he was in so much pain that he could barely lift his arms. I told him that I would stop work at 4:00 P.M. and help him fix dinner. Mom and I both helped him, so preparing dinner turned into a family activity.
Dad was still in a lot of pain. After 8:00 A.M., I called Dr. Patil’s office and asked her nurse about 
Stan arrived from Houston and immediately started doing yard work. Before the day was over, he had mowed the back lawn. During the afternoon, I took a break and the four of us drove a mile away from home to a huge lot that was filled with wildflowers. The lot was a favorite of the locals for wildflower photos, and I wanted to have a photo of the four of us among the iconic symbols of springtime in Texas.
Although his back pain was slowing him, my parents left for dialysis on time, a few minutes after 6:00 A.M. Stan was still sleeping, so I decided to catch up on a little work. I had just sat down with a cup of coffee when the phone rang. I don’t like 7:00 A.M. phone calls, especially from my mother when she’s with Dad at the dialysis center. I was relieved when I learned that she was calling to tell me that she had left the garage light on when she left. As I turned off the light, I had to laugh to myself because I knew that Dad had noticed the light and had told her to call me.
After breakfast, Stan and I drove to the nearby town of Cameron to look for wildflowers. We didn’t find any in the place where I had seen them earlier, but we stumbled upon an old cemetery that had millions of flowers. I had intended to take some infrared photos on the way home, but clouds materialized and blocked the sun. Infrared film photography requires strong sun. It was a running joke that clouds would materialize whenever I pulled out my tripod.
When Mom came out of their bedroom, she told me that Dad wanted us to make an appointment with Dr. Patil to see if there was anything that she could offer him that would help him to manage his pain. Dad had also said that if she could not see him this week, we should try to get an appointment with someone else.
We watched the 
Mom left at noon today to attend her book club. While she was gone, Dad took a nap and then he and I walked out to the garden to water their young tomato plants. After tending to the garden, we walked around the backyard and checked out all of the fruit trees. The blossoms were starting to fall and you could see hints of the fruit that would take their place. Unless we got another freeze, the 
I had spent a lot of time during the day thinking about Dad’s upcoming 
Tonight was Stan’s regular poker game, so I spent the evening on the couch with my cats. When I was home in Houston, I spent most of my time running errands, doing laundry, and switching out my clothes to accommodate the changing seasons. I would have preferred some downtime with Stan, but the cats were good company, albeit not great conversationalists.
March 16. I worked from the Houston office again today. Back in Temple, Dad had an appointment with the Tube Clinic at the gastroenterologist’s office to have his PEG tube removed. I was eager to talk with Mom to hear how Dad had handled the procedure. However, when I spoke with her, she said that Dad did not have the 
I stayed in Houston for a couple more days. I didn’t get much information from Mom about Dad’s condition during my daily calls. When I spoke with her on Friday, March 18, she told me that she would give me more news about Dad’s appointment when I returned to Temple on Saturday. Unlike me, she didn’t come to the phone armed with copious notes about the day’s activities, so our in-person chats were usually more productive.
March 20. This morning got off to a good start. The weather was beautiful, and the Texas bluebonnets were in full bloom. The three of us slept well, enjoyed a great breakfast of eggs and homemade English muffins, and then we went to church.
In addition to our concerns about Dad’s abdominal pain, we had a list of questions for Dr. Patil. At the end of the exam, she said that she thought that Dad would benefit from some additional physical therapy and referred Dad to another month of 
I called the swallow therapy department at Scott & White Memorial Hospital. After Dad had partially aspirated thin liquids during his last MBSS, 
A few minutes after Mom and Dad returned home, Stan arrived from Houston. The four of us ate lunch and then Stan and Dad played cribbage. The weather was nice, so while I waited for our friends to arrive, I took a walk around the neighborhood. My parents were very fond of Rhoda and Mike and looked forward to seeing them again. Rhoda and Mike arrived mid-afternoon, and after we finished all of the greetings, I commandeered Rhoda for some software assistance, leaving Mike, Stan, Dad, and Mom in the sunroom to visit.
Rhoda and Mike arrived for breakfast around 8:45 A.M. Mom and I prepared waffle batter and link sausage, and Dad ran the waffle iron. It was another nice meal, and Dad ate his fair share of waffles, and I restrained myself from reminding him to eat without talking. My parents liked to leave leftover waffles outside for woodland creatures, like foxes and possums, but the six of us didn’t leave enough for a mouse.
While we were gone, the guys and Mom watched part of a golf tournament on television. After eating such a large breakfast, Stan ordered salad takeout from 
It was then that we heard the sound of trouble. Neither Mom nor I witnessed what happened, but we think that Dad fell while stepping into the sunken sunroom. He hit his mouth on the wicker furniture that held Mom’s collection of 
February 29. Today was 
After I arrived home, I called Mom, and she said that Dad had drunk some Nepro and that he had taken a shower. Not being there to ensure that his dialysis port was adequately covered made me extremely nervous, but I had to trust that he was fine. The refreshing and cleansing properties of water could also be deadly for him. I would be glad when he could have the fistula surgery and have the dialysis port removed. Somehow, I also needed to get a grip on myself and try to relax as my parents regained control over their lives.
March 1. Today was Election Day in Texas, which was the primary reason that I had come home: I was going to vote. Had I been realistic about my father’s recovery, I would have requested an absentee ballot, but it was nice to come home, if only for one night. I worked for about an hour from home, packed up my computer, and drove less than two miles to my polling place. I encountered a long line that moved quickly and finished voting just 14 minutes after the polls opened. After stopping by the house once again to grab a cup of coffee, I was on the road to Temple by 7:33 A.M.
Another normal activity returned today when Mom attended her book club with her good friend Marilyn. I was thrilled that she was able to get out of the house and visit with her friends. When you’re in caregiver mode, your new normal world becomes very small, and it seems almost strange to return to your former normal life.
While Dad was feeling adventurous, he wandered into the pantry to get a can of fruit. He stooped just a bit too low and struggled mightily to get up. I wasn’t in the best place to help him, and he was pretty winded when we finally got him up and out of the pantry. We agreed that he was not quite ready for knee bends.
February 23. Today marked the 148th day that Dad had been home from the hospital. He had now been home as many days as he had been hospitalized. A month or so after Dad returned home, I had had a conversation with our friend Adan about what to expect regarding Dad’s recovery time. I had asked if Dad would require one day of recovery for each day of hospitalization, and Adan had said that he thought we might be looking at a 2:1 ratio. Dad wasn’t close to where he was when he entered the hospital some 236 days ago, but I suspected that Adan was correct in his assessment. Because I didn’t want to discourage him, I didn’t want to tell Dad that he was merely at his halfway point to being recovered. He seemed to be pushing himself to resume his former life.
Tale of Two Parents 