Tuesday, 10 November 2015

Soooo tired. Spent the day running around a hospital, trying to make sure dad is okay and … well, okay.
As all men, my father has the tendency to downplay his medical conditions – somewhat because he's an old clumsy guy that gets hit by branches and tripped by dogs a lot, but also to an extend because mum doesn't take him very seriously sometimes and he is the kind of a guy who pulls out his own teeth. Sober.
Seriously, this is a guy who had a heart attack, drove me to work and then kind of phoned my grandma to mention he’s numb in one arm and can’t breathe; does she think that’s serious? Did I mention he’s a national award winning journalist? Uncanny.
                Yesterday we went to a doctor because he couldn’t pee or sleep for a while now and she tested his urine to find nothing, touched his kidneys a bit, nothing much there, but prescribed broad-spectrum antibiotics just in case, why not. This resulted in dad having the mother of all uroseptic shocks ever. I drove up, as we were scheduled for shopping and he wanted to see the doctor again and I said maybe I should be the one to do the driving. I walk in and there’s dad, shaking so terribly he was literally throwing himself off the sofa. He couldn’t communicate. He couldn’t drink when he asked for water.

Fuck me.
I panicked and called the cops, apologised, then called again for an ambulance and tried to explain what it looks like: it looked like an epileptic seizure with the lights still on. I know that if you’re having an epileptic fit you’re not really conscious and he was, although not really coherent. He kept telling me he doesn’t want me to call the ambulance, because he doesn’t have time to go to the hospital and he really doesn’t want to go to the hospital, not the hospital… He kept apologizing to mum and asking her permission. Later on he went into full delusion and kept trying to tell me to mark it by numbers so we can find it all again and although I KNEW he’s delusional because of the fever, I really wanted to crack the code what he was telling me. Usually I speak delusional. It unsettled me that this time I couldn’t.

Mum read through the side-effects of the new pills he’s taken and supposed he’s having a reaction, one of the side-effect being tremors, then put away both of the dogs. It would be hard for the medical team to come into a house to help a seizing man being guarded by a retriever and a Rottweiler. I know, because as soon as they came in, Starbark jumped out of nowhere and bit one of them in the ankle. Whoops. Had to lock her in the bathroom, which she tried to claw out from.
The med team were calm, though; they got dad into the van and drove him, slowly, to the hospital. I had to re-park and then find dad, which wasn’t the simplest thing to do, it’s a freakishly big hospital, but when I did, I managed to get out of the – they get younger every year, I swear – doctor guy that dad was running a fever, had elevated blood pressure, was in pain, had something something prostate and something something urinary infection, bottom line: urosepsis.

Google time.

An hour later he was in Pjs and a mean nurse was ordering him to pee; he found a next-bed conversation mate to talk about vineyards, he ate the small lunch like it was golden and sucked dry several intravenous hydration bottles. I kept texting people updates. I think he was a lot better. In the afternoon mum and sis went along with me to visit him and of course those two have doctorates in doctorates, so they declared he’ll be fine. I really wanna check, though, am not sure how. Don’t wanna go there to bother the whole room. I think I’ll just call. Most they can do is tell me to leave them alone. One sec :)

… No-one’s answering.
I hate it not having anyone in the ward. I’m used to having someone keeping me posted. Balls :/