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Hospital Again
Apr. 21st, 2011 12:49 pmMy mom called about an hour ago. Some time yesterday, my dad was rushed to the hospital in an ambulance. Apparently, the stomach flu they both thought he had was sepsis (where the blood system is overwhelmed by bacteria). He's getting heavy doses of antibiotics now, but, at his age, the big question is: has any of this damaged major organs. My mom said something about the doctors having drained fluid from his lungs, and, it's very clear, that if she hadn't gone with her gut instinct that something was seriously wrong, my dad would be dead.
She's going to keep me informed, but recovery looks good right now. He is still in critical care, however, until they can identify the exact problem and make sure everything is still in good working order.
This is exactly the thing that kept Mason in the hospital when he was about six months old for ten days. It's incredibly serious because the bacteria can pass into the brain and the spinal cord. Mason's was identified as having started as a urinary tract infection that spread to his kidneys and then out into the blood. The doc told us that with pre-verbal infants, usually they see cases like that when it's already become meningitis.
The news about my papa completely freaks me out. I want to drive down to LaCrosse right now to be with him and my mom. But, Mom tells me he's in good hands and the doctors kicked her out today so he can rest.
I know a lot of the folks that read this blog aren't as familiar with my Garnet Lacey stuff, but I realized today that her tendency to clean when she's worried or otherwise freaked out is me. I just did the dishes, changed the kitty litter, took out the garbage, finished a proposal, and nearly started bread (only I discovered we were out of yeast.) Next is fish tank cleaning and then off to Mason's school to volunteer.
Also, I know most of you have never met my dad, but he's awesome. He's a college pyschology professor, recently retired from Viterbo University (though he picked up a few classes again this last semester) and a lot of who I am, verbally and intellectually, comes from him. When I lived at home, we used to go out to breakfast before the Unitarian Fellowship meetings on Sunday to have a big breakfast and "talk smart." He taught me to sing "Red Fly the Banners, O" on road trips, and he damn well better be okay.
Here's my family at last year's Labor Day parade in LaCrosse:
This is also one area in my life where it becomes very clear to me the ways in which I was broken by Ella's death. (For those of you who don't already know, Shawn and I lost our first baby, Ella, who was stillborn.) Before Ella, I don't think it would have ever occurred to me that my papa could die. I would have so much faith in the universe that, even freaked out, it really wouldn't penetrate my optimism that fate could simply be cruel and take him without warning. Now, I have a hard time believing things will be okay.
But I'm going to keep fingers crossed and knock on wood and hum "Four for the Founding Fathers: Marx, Engles, Lenin, Trotsky!"
She's going to keep me informed, but recovery looks good right now. He is still in critical care, however, until they can identify the exact problem and make sure everything is still in good working order.
This is exactly the thing that kept Mason in the hospital when he was about six months old for ten days. It's incredibly serious because the bacteria can pass into the brain and the spinal cord. Mason's was identified as having started as a urinary tract infection that spread to his kidneys and then out into the blood. The doc told us that with pre-verbal infants, usually they see cases like that when it's already become meningitis.
The news about my papa completely freaks me out. I want to drive down to LaCrosse right now to be with him and my mom. But, Mom tells me he's in good hands and the doctors kicked her out today so he can rest.
I know a lot of the folks that read this blog aren't as familiar with my Garnet Lacey stuff, but I realized today that her tendency to clean when she's worried or otherwise freaked out is me. I just did the dishes, changed the kitty litter, took out the garbage, finished a proposal, and nearly started bread (only I discovered we were out of yeast.) Next is fish tank cleaning and then off to Mason's school to volunteer.
Also, I know most of you have never met my dad, but he's awesome. He's a college pyschology professor, recently retired from Viterbo University (though he picked up a few classes again this last semester) and a lot of who I am, verbally and intellectually, comes from him. When I lived at home, we used to go out to breakfast before the Unitarian Fellowship meetings on Sunday to have a big breakfast and "talk smart." He taught me to sing "Red Fly the Banners, O" on road trips, and he damn well better be okay.
Here's my family at last year's Labor Day parade in LaCrosse:
This is also one area in my life where it becomes very clear to me the ways in which I was broken by Ella's death. (For those of you who don't already know, Shawn and I lost our first baby, Ella, who was stillborn.) Before Ella, I don't think it would have ever occurred to me that my papa could die. I would have so much faith in the universe that, even freaked out, it really wouldn't penetrate my optimism that fate could simply be cruel and take him without warning. Now, I have a hard time believing things will be okay.
But I'm going to keep fingers crossed and knock on wood and hum "Four for the Founding Fathers: Marx, Engles, Lenin, Trotsky!"
