ER Visit

My father somehow (still unclear to us as to how) managed to pull out his trach - yes the entire thing - this morning. Luckily, my mother brought all the pieces to the Northern Inyo Hospital's (NIH) emergency room because they didn't have the correct "parts" in-stock.

The first task was to thoroughly clean the unsightly trach. The doctor, "bless his heart" (as some of my family members would say), was new - not just new to NIH but new to the profession - he just finished his residency a few months ago. The "Hmmm... where is that and what do I do with it" banter between he, the nurse, and my mother was uncomfortably intriguing (in a fearful sense) as I sat beside my dad's cot and observed.

After the doctor suggested my mother be the one to put the trach back in since "she must be a pro at it", she corrected his assumption - she'd never done the outer cannula - we only change the inner cannula daily. Eventually, with the nurse's encouragement and my mom's directions, the doctor figured he'd "give it a go." After the fifth time the doctor had shared that he's only done this once - way back in school, the nurse shushed him, not wanting to freak out the patient! I don't know exactly how my dad felt but I was a bit afraid myself!

The first couple of attempts looked extremely painful, from my dad's expression. Then, luckily, the veteran ER doctor walked in, donned gloves, the other doctor stood back to observe, and within one minute the trach was back in. Yay - sigh of relief. I think we all felt better.

Great Family, Friends, Neighbors...

I just wanted to say thank you to all of the wonderful family members, friends of the family, and neighbors in the good little town of Bishop for their thoughtfulness throughout these tough times. I feel better about being far away in LA with my father and mother and brother surrounded by such caring and helpful people. I also feel strength from people from afar. We are lucky to be supported by such genuine individuals and groups. Many thanks. :-)

One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest

Never mind trying to maintain sanity - it's easier to embrace the insanity. Especially when I feel like I am surrounded by the animal version of One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest: a deformed kitten limps around like a bird with a broken wing, its sibling's raspy breathing is as heavy as my father's, a black & white cat that's fat enough to be in the Guinness Book of World Records gorges itself, ole "Mini-Me" (Siamese mix) sneezes so hard it shakes her entire frail body, the token "defective" rabbit hops happily in the backyard, and the chicken's perch above the desk remains empty.

Although it's crazy, it's home. Perusing the garage for a clipboard, I see tidbits of notes my dad wrote to others - imparting his knowledge about cars and tools. The smell of grease, oil and metal are more so my father's scent than Old Spice ever was. The huge "fix-it-yourself" manuals gather dust on the shelf above the always-stocked tool chest... In fact, the only salient piece that doesn't seem to have dust on it is the smooth chrome on the Harley.

Roberta from Hospice of the Owens Valley was very sweet. I am amazed these wonderful people are on-call 24-7 to help with all kinds of needs - physical, social, emotional... talk about angels. Their philosophy statement is, "We believe death is a natural part of, and necessary closure to, life as we know it. It is our philosophy that dying persons have the potential to learn, teach, console, enjoy, plan, and laugh during this period of living." They are all about openly and honestly dealing with the prospect of death, which is healthy.

While Hospice will help with providing support services and some equipment, eventually Pioneer Home and Health Agency is the alternative when our needs are more extensive and complex. Already, Roberta has helped greatly - she informed us with the good news that my dad's oxygen level is up to 95% while using the tank, provided us with a thorough living will and other documents, and helped to communicate with Dr. Boo regarding a change in his pain medication to ease his suffering. BTW, I just heard on the news (Stanford study) that love relieves pain more than a pain killer; the same areas in the brain that are used for falling in love are also used to feel pain... Hmmm... Wish it were so simple a solution.

Knowing more about the free Hospice support makes me feel more comfortable about having to go back to LA to work. Today I realized that I could be satisfied to just hang around and help care for my dad as a full-time "job." Later I received an email from my partner teacher saying the students missed me and this made me realize that at least I have a meaningful job to return to...

Most of all, I wish my dad didn't have to go through the immense pain and discomfort he is withstanding... I can't help but think of Chief Bromden, the seemingly mute half-Indian patient in the Cuckoo Nest, for his strength that extended beyond brawn.

Poking Some Fun to Maintain Some Sanity

This afternoon my dad showered and even shaved to greet Kelliann, Aunt Linda, and I. Linda noted his swelling in his face seemed better today, except his lips. She shared that the other day my mom told him, "Well, Angelina Jolie has nothing on you!" :-)

Personally, I think his distended belly and his swole cheeks make him look like Santa Claus, with a button nose. I just wish he had Santa's "magic"...

Thanks to Allison and Google images, my brother and I are also working on communication cards for him to point to (e.g. "What time is it?", ice pack, massage neck, etc.), rather than writing out simple requests, which is increasingly difficult for him.

I went to Dwayne's Pharmacy to buy some Therafirm socks for his legs. His ankles have edema (they're very swollen) and these particular socks (which also come as support hose for women) are helpful for reducing swelling, promoting blood circulation, and preventing varicose veins.

So at least now he has his "stockings." I think he'd like his Harley to be his "sleigh"...

Roberta from Hospice is coming at 1:00 tomorrow.

Clinic Visit Update

This morning my mother took my father to see the Dr. Boo and crew at the Rural Health Clinic. Turns out he has slight pneumonia so they prescribed him an antibiotic. They found his oxygen levels are low - 80% - so Airway Medical brought over an oxygen tank for him to use with his trach. Some of the inflammation in his face has gone down and the oxygen seems to be helping him have a little more energy. The pain is ever-present. This nights are tougher than the mornings...

My cousin Dion made a good point tonight - through all of this, my fathers written communications (e.g. notes, texts) have maintained an upbeat attitude. Instead of constant complaining, he often tries to be humorous.

Thanks for the positivity D.

Hard Times

Last Thursday was exactly one year since my dad was diagnosed with stage 2 of tongue cancer - invasive-moderately differentiated squamous cell carcinoma; he's now in the final stage...

I'm sorry I haven't written much lately but it's hard to find a glimpse of positive hope when things seem so dreary. So this post has a negative overcast and undertone - again, my apologies.

My father is not doing well at all. My mother is taking him to the Rural Health Clinic tomorrow because she doesn't think he can wait until his appointment Thursday.

The past couple of months have been filled with a flurry of different types of medicines - trying to balance painkillers with steroids and anti-inflammatories. Despite all this, of course, he is still in pain and swollen. His right side of his face has swollen up so badly he has trouble seeing out of his right eye. The drugs have also affected his mood and activity. He is drained and weakened by the simplest of tasks now.

About a week ago, he texted me, "mother nature takes her time sometimes damnit"... Timing is everything now, it seems, and time is precious.