May 6, 2016. It was hard to believe that one year ago, Mom and I had accompanied Dad to Baylor Scott & White hospital for his aortic valve replacement surgery, a 7-10 day hospital stay that became a 148-day hospital stay, followed by five months of home care. His surgery had been successful, but the recovery was a failure.
When I called my parents’ home from my home in Houston today, my mother told me that she had been informed that Dad’s second round of home care would be ending soon. Once again, I felt like I was losing a lifeline. Although I rarely needed them, just knowing that I could phone a nurse for assistance was comforting.
May 7. It was Saturday morning and Stan and I were driving to my parents’ home in Temple in separate cars. He left home at 7:45 A.M. I had a couple of errands to attend to and followed Stan a couple of hours later.
When I arrived at my parents’ home shortly before 1:00 P.M., Dad was home from dialysis and Stan was mowing the lawn. After lunch, Dad and I went to HEB to purchase groceries and supplies that we would need for the dinner that we had planned for Mother’s Day tomorrow. While I was there, I found a beautiful bouquet that I purchased for Mom.
Dad told me that he wanted me to start reducing my number of trips and days with them. He said that he wanted to start using his computer again, and when I was there, he couldn’t access it because I used that space to work. He added that when I wasn’t there, they felt like their life had almost returned to normal again. I wasn’t sure how I felt about this announcement. I also wanted to reduce my time away from home, but I still felt that their situation was somewhat tenuous.
Very little can dissuade us from playing cards after dinner, and Dad won big time at Oh Hell.
May 8. For as long as I could remember, my parents had eaten waffles for breakfast on Saturday. During Dad’s seven months of hospitalization and home care, Mom had abandoned this tradition. After preparing countless batches of waffle batter, Mom had committed the recipe to memory. Between the months-long lapse in preparing the waffle batter and her having a stroke, Mom had forgotten her recipe. When preparing waffles last weekend, she searched in vain for her written recipe and resorted to one in a cookbook. During the past week, she had continued her search but without success and had to use the substitute. Although Mom prepared the batter, Dad had been the official waffle baker, a role that he now resumed.
After Mom and I returned home from church, the four of us enjoyed chocolate-dipped strawberries with our lunch.
During happy hour, Mom opened her Mother’s Day card and a little gift from me. My wonderful husband gave Mom a gift card to Chico’s. Because she had lost so much weight during the past year, most of her clothes no longer fit her. So that I could accompany her on her shopping trip, he also gave me a gift card.
For dinner, Dad and I fixed some of Mom’s favorites: baked potatoes and rib-eye steak. Dad also had me prepare one of his favorites: sautéed mushrooms. Everything was great—even the banana pudding ice cream that Dad had selected for dessert. Although the flavor didn’t sound very appealing to me, it was surprisingly good.
Stan left for our home in Houston at 4:30 P.M, but he didn’t get home until 8:00 P.M. One of the cats welcomed Stan home with the gift of a furball in the middle of the family room floor. Poor Stan.
Back in Temple, I won our game of Oh Hell, beating Mom by two points.
May 9. I started working at 4:00 A.M. My father had an early post-op appointment today with Dr. Jaffers, the surgeon who performed Dad’s fistula surgery. My parents and I agreed that I would skip this appointment but would go with them to Dad’s later appointment to see Dr. Martin. We planned to take two cars so that I could drive to Houston from the doctor’s office.
At 10:00 A.M., after a 6-hour workday, I stopped working and packed my car. When I turned the key, the engine hesitated before it started. When we arrived at the doctor’s office, I asked my parents to wait for me to start my car before leaving the parking lot. In case my car had a problem, I didn’t want to be stranded at the doctor’s office.
Dr. Martin repeated what we had already heard: Dad had several compression fractures. We talked with him about Dad’s three falls (May 2015, January 2016, and March 2016), and the likelihood that one of those falls had caused Dad’s current back problems. Because back injuries can be cumulative, the last fall or the standing up in church could have been the tipping point that caused Dad’s pain. The doctor wanted a blood test and a bone density scan to determine if the compression fractures were caused by osteoporosis. When my parents went to the lab for the blood work, I went home. I was relieved that the car seemed to start without any hesitation and assumed that I had imagined some problem with my car.
When I stopped for gas in Somerville, my car struggled to start. I called Stan to share my concerns and discuss my options. I had planned to go to the office and then meet a former coworker for dinner. I was afraid that if I went to the office or out to dinner that the car wouldn’t start and that I would be stranded. We agreed that it would be prudent for me to skip the office and reschedule my dinner plans.
I drove home and called Stan when I approached the neighborhood. We met at the house, unloaded my car (with the engine running), and he followed me to the Honda dealership. Through the miracle of smartphones, I was able to attend a meeting during my drive to the dealership. The service department representative said that they could fix my car within an hour, which allowed Stan and me to grab dinner while we waited.
When we arrived home with two fully-functioning cars, I called Mom to see how Dad was doing. After they left the lab, they ran a couple of errands, and by the time that they reached home, Dad was in a lot of pain. His back was hurting him so much that he had to lie down. Mom was very concerned and told me that he had a difficult time finding a comfortable position.
Mom was a little confused and a bit frustrated by the doctor’s visit. She had thought that the doctor was going to start treating Dad, so she was surprised when the doctor said that he needed more tests.
May 10. When I called Mom at noon to see how she and Dad were doing, she told me that she had received bad news from the dermatologist: her biopsy was cancerous and she would need surgery. The cancer was slow moving, so the doctor said that she could schedule the surgery for after our family reunion in June.
Dad was feeling somewhat better today. Mom had had him take some Extra Strength Tylenol last night and it seemed to lessen his pain. She told me that Dad returned to the x-ray department at the Scott & White clinic for a bone density scan this afternoon. The scans weren’t painful, but lying on the table was very painful.
May 14. After spending a few days at our home in Houston, Stan and I planned to return to Temple for the weekend. Like before, we would take separate cars, enabling me to stay a day or two longer. After handling a few chores around the house, Stan and I departed for Temple; Stan left about 10 minutes before me. As I was passing the Buc-ees in Waller, I passed Stan. He could seldom pass this mega rest stop without stopping for coffee or snacks. He stopped again in Rogers to pick up some doughnuts for my mother (so he said), so I arrived almost 15 minutes ahead of him.
I hadn’t been in the house for more than a few minutes before Dad started complaining about the doctor and the lack of information from Scott & White. I decided to log on to Dad’s MyChart account and discovered that Dr. Martin had sent my father a message, telling him that he had severe osteoporosis. The doctor added that he had requested a consultation with an endocrinologist. I emailed Dr. Martin to see if we needed to make the appointment or if we would be contacted by the specialist. I also noticed that Dad had an appointment for additional blood work, but I couldn’t tell which doctor had placed the order.
We later got into a heated discussion about how my parents wanted Dad to replace his prescribed statin with pectin. Evidently, the home care nurse told my parents that statins were dangerous and that she had been giving her husband pectin instead. I could believe it because my sister-in-law’s father-in-law had had some severe side effects from prolonged statin use. However, I’d prefer if we clued in the cardiologist before we started self-medication.
When he saw Dr. Martin last week, Dad’s chart did not include the statin, but my parents did not recall any discussion with Dr. Ebert about stopping this medication. Because it was on the list of medications that I maintained for Dad, Dr. Martin had added it back to Dad’s chart. We decided that I would contact Dr. Ebert, tell her about the situation, and see what she advised. Who knows; if she thought that substituting pectin for a statin was a good idea, I might have Stan ask our doctor about it.
Now that Dad seemed to be recovering nicely, he didn’t need my constant presence, which enabled me to spend more time at my home in Houston. I left my parents’ home at 12:30 P.M. and arrived at my home in Houston around 3:15 P.M. I logged on and worked until Stan got home from work at 5:00 P.M., armed with some barbecued ribs, one of my favorite meals.
While the house was being prepped for its beauty treatment, Mom drove Dad to his appointment with 
When preparing the house for the repair work, the contractors had us remove vases, knick-knacks, and any other objects that they might damage. After lunch, I helped Mom return everything to its rightful place—sort of. I couldn’t believe how difficult it was for us to remember where everything had been for five years. I questioned both my power of observation and my memory.
Mom and I went to church, leaving the guys at home to play cards and perhaps do some chores. On the way out of the church, Pastor Tom hugged me and told me to say hello to my father. I told him that I’d been eager for Dad to get to the point where I could take him out to dinner. I then asked Tom if he could recommend any good sushi restaurants. He looked at me for a couple of moments and then said that I was still welcome to attend church. Mom hadn’t heard what I asked him, but the people behind us did, and they laughed. Tom loved beef and comfort food, but anyone who knew him also knew that he detested salad, vegetables, and sushi.
As much grief as I gave Dad for not cooperating with his physical therapists, I had not completed my physical therapy sessions following my 
May 4. Mom woke up in the middle of the night, bleeding from the spot on her forehead where the doctor had taken the biopsy. She was able to stop the bleeding and did what she could to bandage it.
I kept hoping for a couple of weeks in a row where nothing happened to either of my parents. I sometimes felt like we should have one of those signs like the ones posted in factories: 7 days without a medical incident. Today the counter was reset to zero.
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 
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 
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.
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.
Stan and I took my car to a local garage for an oil change, and then we drove to the nearby town of 
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 
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, 
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.
Tale of Two Parents 