Regroup

The month of January and early-February, in review:

1) My husband's grandmother passed away (she was very old, and sick ... but still ... )

2) I went blind and was on house arrest (and then regained sight, miraculously! Praise Jesus!)

3) My father impaled himself with a yard instrument and suffered life-threatening injuries (and is still recuperating, but expected to make a complete recovery).

4) I have brain issues (not new news, but I feel like the karmic bullshit factor of this statement should exempt me from all other problems in life. If you follow this blog, you have learned that it does not).

But first, pleasantries and salutations: You may be bored of reading the following statement, but I assure you that while the words may seem stale and tired (much the way I feel right now), the sentiments are not. On that note: thank you, friends and family, for being so incredible. The prayers, thoughts, and babysitting assistance ... holding it together without your help would be next-to-impossible.

Regarding the father: My dad is now home from the hospital. We were fortunate to be able to celebrate my mom's birthday at my parents' house, with a last-minute Giant-brand cake ("Terrible!") and jokes about Cialis and four-hour erections, while my dad puffed into this hospital-issued plastic device that looked not-unlike a bong. You know, normal family time.

My dad asked me to select a card for my mom when I went to pick up her cake. Since he'd been all busy schlepping around tubes and struggling to breathe and not die for the past week, I felt like he had a proper excuse for not taking on the task himself (and I did not even charge him extra for my time or gas for my car, because I am selfless like that.)

The grocery store greeting card selection was sorely lacking. Seriously, who writes these cards? Or perhaps the true question might be, who buys these cards? All the cards either had goopy poems that made my eyes itch or some sort of scraggly animal accompanied by not-so-funny bodily-function humor. Neither seemed appropriate.

I ended up choosing a card for my dad to give my mom that "sang" Marvin Gaye's "Let's Get It On" when opened, which reduced me to tears, even after the tenth time. Actually - scratch that - ESPECIALLY after the tenth time. My laughter tends to reverberate and I think it may have scared the cats away. Sadie (the agoraphobic feline) is probably still hiding under the wet towels in the linen closet, covering her ears with her paws.

And now, Dad, a word. In the future, if you want your own private TV for Superbowl viewing, I feel like there are easier ways to obtain that goal. I am more than a little worried what you may do to yourself during March Madness to secure some non-Lifetime Channel-interrupted sports viewing. As a preemptive strike to any sort of monkey shines, why don't you just put it on your calendar to come over to our place? You can have the non-sticky chair and I'll order enchiladas! With olives!

Oh - and for Father's Day - instead of the traditional ultra-deluxe set of golf balls and a tie with Jerry Garcia's illustrations of clouds silk-screened on it, Scott and I are going in on a gardening service. Given what you managed to do to yourself with a seemingly innocuous yard tool, we do not even want to imagine what sort of chaos you could inflict if you got your hands on a bag of mulch and some rose shears. You might lose your spleen trying to harvest that American Beauty flower, and nobody wants to see that.

As per usual, after periods of stress and challenge, I always take a moment to re-examine my own life and ask The Big Questions.

Just last night, I took a deep breath, looked around my house, at my family and found myself pondering the following: Can anyone tell me why there is a can of chili sitting on the couch in the living room?

Ice Cream, The Wonder Drug

Ben & Jerry's was a big hit. I don't know if you have heard, but hospital food service is not on par with French Laundry in Napa.

My dad is more human-colored now, less purple-grey and translucent. He can blow up a balloon (which sounds weird) but something the pulmonology people seem to think is important. Maybe when he gets out, he can get a weekend job as a kids' party clown to pay off the medical bills.

Right now, he is still extremely weak and the chest tube is still in. There is a fine balance between how long that should stay in and when it should come out. The longer something foreign sticks into your chest cavity, the higher the risk of infection. So once his lung has healed enough to function on its own, that will be removed immediately.

He can stand now, but just barely and with a lot of effort, which is a huge improvement from yesterday. He will probably be rickety for the near-term while he regains strength -- maybe he'll need a chair for those kids' parties.

He has moved down from the critical round-the-clock monitoring unit, which is wonderful, because it means he is healing. His critical care nurse was, I am sure, not sad to say goodbye. Because while she declared my father to be "a model patient", I was, unabashedly, a non-apologetic pain-in-the-ass.

Where are his compression stockings? They need to be ordered? Ok. Order them. Did you give him his Motrin yet? No? How about now? No. NOW? Just give it to me ... I'll dispense it to him. 600 mg? Why is his Jello purple? The guy next to him has orange Jello! Who do I have to talk to to get some orange Jello? How is his fever? What - two HOURS ago? Can you check it again? Right now? Yes. Now. I'll wait. Did I mention I had client in here just last month? Oh, I did not mention I was a lawyer? Yeah, I LOVE medical malpractice! So fulfilling. Now, about that Jello ...

* Note: I do not do medical malpractice and did not actually play the lawyer card. That is obnoxious. But I have not been shy about making sure he gets attentive care and nothing is overlooked, which I am sure the staff enjoyed. I can joke now because I am overwhelmingly relieved - after crying on-and-off - for the past three days.

You show those organs who's boss, Dad, and I'll take care of ordering the Jello!

When It Rains, It Pours

Many of you know that my dad is currently in serious condition at Howard County General.

He fell on the ice Saturday afternoon while carrying a sledgehammer. He was trying to break up the ice on the back deck, when he slipped and landed on the stick part of the sledgehammer. A freak thing. He suffered blunt force trauma to the chest, resulting in three broken ribs. One of the broken ribs punctured a lung.

A chest tube was put in, surgically, on Saturday night to reinflate the lung. It is still in and will be removed once his lung can sustain breathing on its own. X-rays every day have been tracking his progress to see how the chest tube is working to correct the lung trauma.

He was improving until he spiked a fever last night. I.V. antibiotics were started and the fever has started to go down, as of today. At this point, his temperature is almost back to normal, which is a good sign.

If all went well, he was slated to be released on Tuesday. However, infection/fever are considered a major complication, so right now, we are not sure when he will released from the hospital or when the chest tube can be removed.

He asked for ice cream, which I take to be a good sign. Will keep you posted.

PS My life? I mean ... you CANNOT make this s--- up. I told my brother I am waiting for it to start raining frogs on my house. Hello, Universe? A little less drama. Um-kay? Maybe for just a week.

PPS Thank you for all the prayers and thoughts.