Sunday, December 5, 2010

Emergencvy Room

Tuesday morning I went to see Dad. And he did not look good. He was pale and washed out, his eyes were staring and wide, he looked frail and uncomfortable and it was obviously hard to move. I thought that the surgery had taken so much out of him, it was terrible.

I sat with him for a little while, not really talking, but stroking his arm and just being there. I had to go to work, so I made sure his caregiver had everything he needed and I left. At 4:00 I got a call from the caregiver; Dad was sweating profusely, pale, hadn't urinated all day and seemed to have some lumps in uncomfortable places. Could I please come get him and take him to the emergency room?

I knew I couldn't ask my sister for any more help, since I was now back in town. We finally got it worked out that he would drop Dad at the ER in Bellevue, but he couldn't stay since he only had one other person on shift. I picked up my boyfriend and we made our way through traffic to Bellevue. When the caregiver and dad shuffled in to the ER, I was shocked; he looked even worse than the morning. It looked like he could hardly stay on his feet. A nurse must have caught sight of how badly he was looking, she came over andd hustled Dad and me into a private room. Poor Dad, the expression on his face as yet more people pulled him around, took clothes on and off, inserted things in his veins. He couldn't say anything, but I could tell how deeply humiliated he was.

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