TUESDAY - 11/11

TUESDAY – Dad wasn’t opening his eyes much, but when you’d talk to him he’d squeeze your hand, and say “I love you.” His speech was slow, but he knew when he was slurred and would and repeat himself very deliberately. When anyone would come to do a neuro assessment, they’d ask his name, the year, if he knew where he was, who’s the president, etc. Pretty much throughout the day he gave an acceptable response to each question. He always got his name right. When he said Obama was the president they didn’t argue with him.

He was significantly weaker on the left side, but would still move his hand and toes upon request. Occasionally he’d open his eyes and focus for a moment on whoever was there and give your hand a squeeze. And we knew he didn’t like the light in his eyes because he kept clicking the remote to turn it off.

Before Alex and I got here on Tuesday the attending neurologist, Dr. O’Duffy had already been by to see Dad and said they’d done a CT scan on Monday, and we were in a wait-and-see phase. They didn’t know if the bleeding had stopped – and they were waiting to see if swelling started. She said we had to wait for the Coumadin (blood thinner) to leave Dad’s system before any surgery could be done, and that would take at least another day.

After we got here the Critical Care Team came by. The Attending was Dr. V. He pretty much said the same things – we won’t know more till we have more to know. In other words, we’re just waiting to see what happens here. There was some discussion about looking over Dad’s daily meds, and whether or not he should be on his C-Pap for his sleep apnea. Victoria, the nurse, asked about a Living Will and Durable Power of Attorney and Mom said she’d bring them in later. Mom and I drove lout to the house to take a short nap and pick everything up.

When we got back to the hospital we started going through the meds. As we read out doctor’s names it was clear Dad was aware and responsive.

“Dad, who’s Dr. X?”
“My Cardiologist.”

“Who’s Dr. Y?”
“My Urologist.”

“Who’s Dr. Z?”
“My Gynecologist.”
“Dad, who’s Dr. Z?”
“My Orthopedist.”

(Our cousin Joe, is an OB-Gyn. When I shared this story with him, he said to tell Dad he always thought he was Dad’s gynecologist!)

In the afternoon, Mom was trying to figure out who else she needed to call. I asked about their friends, Bob & Joan Smartt, but Mom said she didn’t have their number. From his bed, eyes closed, Dad said, “I have it.” I asked, “in your cell phone?” “Yes,” he said. With the exception of the whole lying in bed with his eyes closed and tubes all over the place – this was Dad across the room during any other conversation you might be having, interjecting when he feels necessary.

By evening he was a little less responsive. He said the year was 1908, then 1988, then 1980. He started saying he was at home – but I really think that’s because so much family was around him, of course he was at home! But he was barely opening his eyes and he really had to be prodded to move anything on his left side.

A technician came by to do an echocardiogram and then Dr. V (Critical Care) came by with his team. As he stood outside Dad’s room each of us positioned ourselves to hear as much as we could of his commentary. I heard him saying that (a) Dad’s heart was too weak to survive any surgery and (b) there was no point in doing an echocardiogram because it was information that couldn’t be used. An impressive young ICU Fellow, Dr. Rachel, spoke up and asked how you knew you couldn’t use a piece of information until you had it. He said it was useless because of the known condition of Dad’s heart. She said – basically – that she disagreed.

Then they moved into Dad’s room. As he stood by my Dad’s bedside, Dr. V continued to paint his bleak picture. A discussion ensued about the value of adding Dad’s regular, daily meds to his hospital med program. Dr. Rachel was all for it. Dr. V mentioned using Digoxin. Dr. Rachel wanted to call Dad’s primary care physician to find out why he was on something other than Digoxin. Dr. V. said “give him the Digoxin and that can be your experiment for the day.”

We did dinner in shifts and before we left for the evening we talked to the night nurse about using the C-Pap. He said since Dad had gotten through Monday evening without breathing support he thought he’d be fine.