On Tuesday night, my dad busted out of the ICU to the general floor. Yesterday, he transferred to the inpatient rehab facility, TIRR.
We continue to be ever grateful that his GBS did not progress to the point of having respiratory failure. Also, he has made tremendous strides in his legs since receiving the IVIG infusions.
TIRR is a really nice facility. They are going to work him hard here, though, but we all know it is necessary. Today, he is receiving 3-4 hours of evaluations and therapy treatments.
One issue we have run in to is the possible nerve damage to his bladder. It is something Kasey and I brought up at the hospital—the fact that he wasn’t peeing very much—but it was blown off as a possible “enlarged prostate.” I’d like to note here that Dad told the doctors he had been to his PCP in the spring for an annual checkup and there was nothing wrong with his prostate.
Well, the TIRR doctor did not like the fact that Dad hasn’t been peeing much, so lo and behold, a bladder scan was ordered (eye roll…duh). The scanner showed a liter of urine in his bladder, so (poor Daddio) a Foley catheter was placed. And holy shiz, 1,650ml of urine immediately entered the Foley bag.
Pretty frustrating considering this was something we brought up almost daily at the hospital. I’m glad now that it is being taken seriously. They also are taking him for a renal ultrasound today to make sure no permanent damage was done.
All-in-all, things are good. Way better than could have been expected, and we are all aware of how bad things could have been. It does seem like every day something little pops up, though. It can be exhausting for Dad and all of us, but we will soldier on.
My anxiety has been running rampant these past two days. Obviously, the major reason is everything that has happened with Dad, but sometimes I feel like my brain is both filled with sludge and working overtime. I’m worried about when to go back to Dallas. I’m sad that I have to. I miss Jimmy and my Gussy. But I know I’ll feel so far away once the time comes for me to return.
I’m anxious about my writing. The day before Dad went into the hospital, Erin (my literary agent) submitted my manuscript to twenty-two publishers. While this is so frigging exciting, it’s also nerve-wracking. Fear lingers in the back of my mind that it won’t get published. That it won’t resonate with any publishing houses. Also, I’m shit at waiting. Waiting for any “Yes” or “No” responses. And I hate that my dad being hospitalized has been a good distraction from my anxious brain. I’d rather get an ulcer waiting for news than go through this again.
Also, I haven’t been writing beside these blog updates. I’m sure if I did, it would all be shit, but it still causes me stress that I’m not working.
Blah. Sorry, just need to get my thoughts down. I’m a hot mess, now I feel guilty complaining about my anxieties when Dad is in the hospital.
It’s wine time.
Areas for thoughts/prayers/rock rubbing/incense burning:
-Bladder nerves to recover
-No kidney damage
-Continual healing and strengthening of Dad’s legs and arm
Thanks again for all of the texts and calls. Means so much to me and my family!
Until next time,