Thanksgiving
Friday, November 25th, 2005The dishes are washing, the leftovers are cooling in the fridge, and the fire has turned to a few glowing coals.
There was some hope that Dad might come home yesterday night, but the doctors ended up keeping him at the hospital. We still don’t know exactly what’s going to happen. Yesterday, my friend L (who lost his mother when he was 16) warned me that waiting for doctors to tell us what’s going on is possibly the most frustrating thing ever.
As I understand it, there are really four options.
A. Surgery is deemed too risky and he comes home on a highly regimented medicine schedule. If this is the option, the doctors say that optimistically, he’s got 5 years.
B. Angioplasty on Tuesday. With how damaged his heart is, this is really risky and (depending on the test results) the doctors think he has, at best, a 50/50 chance of surving the operation.
C. Heart transplant… but with his diabetes and other problems, he’s a very unlikely candidate for this. However, there’s always the chance that he’s the best candidate at the moment a heart of his type becomes available.
D. Pacemaker… although this is not the favored option of his doctors. He’d still need more surgeries down the line and he’d probably have nothing but complications the rest of his life.
Anyway, we had the grandparents over today for the meal. Jacki cooked the turkey (and was really nervous about it because she’s never cooked one before). I didn’t eat any turkey (pesky vegetarian that I am), but no one complained, so I guess she done good.
I set up the Christmas decorations. The place looks so twinkly and festive I could gag.
I’ve been holding up okay. There’s been so much to do, I haven’t spent a lot of time thinking about everything. Yesterday morning, though, while getting ready for work, I just thought about Anya’s speech in “The Body” … just thought about it … and broke down crying.
Talking with grandpa was tough. I can tell he’s scared out of his mind that he might outlive his own son (and after nearly 20 years of close calls and it being “almost time”), but it’s not in his personality to admit it to anyone. Not because he’s afraid to express his feelings – but because he thinks the best way to deal with any situation he can’t control (other than his own health) is wild optimism. In college, my friends and I jokingly called attitutdes like this “optimistic to the point of studpity.”
I still haven’t even been to the hopsital to see him. I’ve got a mild head cold and sore throat, and it’s best if I don’t bring it into the progressive care ward at the hopsital.
Anyway, my thanks for the kind words, the prayers and concern many of you have offered. I really do appreciate it.
