Off to See Dad!

We’re trying to find a cribbage board, a deck of cards, a robe (in case they get Dad walking around and he doesn’t want to moon the nurses; he may want to moon the nurses*), and a pen for score keeping.  I’m bringing the start of the TCP afghan to work on while the Butcher and Dad play cribbage and I’ll join in on rummy when they get to that.  The Butcher wasn’t sure that Dad would be up for cards while he’s on the morphine, but Dad said that this might be the Butcher’s only chance to beat him at cards.

The nurse helpfully pointed out that they only give morphine in the first 48 hours and after that, he’ll just be on one of those -cet medicines.

Ha, I kind of love Dad’s nurses.  We’ve brought chocolate for all of them–a box for the surgical team, a box for the day shift ICU folks, and Lindor truffles for the night shift ICU folks, and a box in reserve for the new team when we get him moved out of the ICU.

And Dad has provided them a sympathetic ear while they sigh and roll their eyes about the guy next door, so I think between that and the chocolate, they love him**.


*Did I tell you that he had to get a pillow to sit on when he sits in the chair because, as one of the nurses helpfully pointed out, “Your dad has no butt!”?

**I, on the other hand, secretly love the guy next door.  He came in at the same time as Dad on Monday and was cussing up a storm and demanding to just “get this damn thing over with” and throwing his hat around.  And, now, after heart surgery, in the ICU, he’s demanding to be released from the hospital, because he feels fine.  Since they won’t let him go home, his new goal seems to be to just find a moment when they aren’t paying attention when he can sneak out and have a cigarette.  How he thinks he’s going to achieve this hooked up to eighty million tubes and wires and monitors and with every nurse in the ICU keeping an eye on him, I’m not sure, but I admire his devotion to his task.  And his pig-headed lack of willingness to even quit smoking for two days while he’s on morphine.  I mean, seriously, if ever you were going to make a break from tobacco, this would be an easy time, but no, he’s going to have him a cigarette.

6 thoughts on “Off to See Dad!

  1. I wish good luck to both you and your dad.

    I suppose I’m not suprised to see that the church congregation hasn’t been helpful — he’s probably always been the one to help them and nobody is around to prompt them — but it is wonderful to see his peers come out to support him and care about him and your mom.

    — also, the guy next door is much like my step-dad — insistent on smoking. I totally know the type… and it does make me wonder if hospitals shouldn’t have a smoking lounge or at least provide patches when they old guys can’t get outside…

  2. Well, the guy next door sounds like a fool, but if he not only wears a hat but also knows how to throw it around properly, I’m not surprised you love him.

  3. I’m glad your dad is doing OK. My dad’s doing OK, too. Hurray!

    I’m absolutely baffled to hear your dad’s church isn’t doing anything for your mom, though. Do they know your dad had surgery? I mean, I could get it if there was a collective decision to wait until your dad was discharged to start with the casserole-totin’, but I would think somebody would at least *say* something about it. My parents are being inundated with advice, and at least 50 people have called to say they’re bringing over casseroles when dad gets out of quarantine. (Our little joke – he’s supposed to avoid contact with non-family members until next week because of the immune system suppressants he’s on to give the pacemaker a chance to seat itself without infection.)

  4. Original Lee, I’m glad to hear that your dad is doing well. It’s a great feeling, isn’t it?

    I’m really hoping that they’re just waiting until he gets home to come over and bring food or something, because this is really strange.

    At least, I hope it’s really strange. I’d be alarmed to learn that this is par for the course.

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