More On Dad's Pain

ver the past few weeks, Dad has been doing a lot better, both emotionally and physically. Actually, more emotionally than physically, but doing better emotionally seems to be helping him at least want to improve his physical situation. Of course, he's gone to doctor after doctor over the years, seeking relief from his pain, but he was only interested in what they could do for him, but he would never do things they suggested he could do for himself.

For example, the physical therapist wanted him to do some exercises. Even when reminded, he wouldn't do them very often. He always sleeps on his right side, with his right arm under his head. The doctors think that his lack of variation in sleeping positions caused the soft tissues in the right side of his neck to shorten, and those in the left side of his neck to lengthen, which causes pain in a particular muscle that attaches above his left eye--exactly where his pain is. He can't lie on his back or stomach for very long at a time because of breathing issues, and he wouldn't try sleeping on his left side because he's completely deaf in his right ear and didn't like not being able to hear anything while he's in bed.

In October, I talked to his doctor about how every time we make plans to do something, Dad would end up sick, and asked him if he thought it could be caused by anxiety. Dad said, "But I wanted to go." The doctor said that didn't matter. Even good stresses can cause anxiety. He prescribed Buspirone, a medication that would boost the effects of the Cymbalta antidepressant he was already taking, help with anxiety, and even help relieve his belly pain.

Only a couple of weeks later, the belly pain was gone. His mood improved. He not only told jokes, but started laughing while telling them, to the point his face turned red. For years, he didn't want to talk to anyone on the phone. If he answered my calls, he quickly asked if I wanted to talk to Mom. Now, suddenly, he was calling people just to see how things were going with their farms and families. For years, he practically ignored Mom. Now, he calles her sweetheart, hugs her every chance he gets, talks to her, watches TV shows she wants to watch, and generally seems more interested in her. I've got my dad back!

It took a little longer, but in the last week, he's started sleeping on his left side! With the help of his doctors, I think we'll make some progress on his headaches.

Adventures in Eldersitting--Overnight Travel, Part 2

o, if you read Part 1, you know how things are going. We went 2 hours from home for a funeral, with the plan to stay overnight--and I forgot Mom and Dad's meds. My Husband, the doll that he is, drove all the way home to get them. While he was gone, my cousin ferried us all to her house. When we got there, I asked my son and my cousin's husband to bring in Dad's oxygen machine, because Dad had used all the oxygen in his two portable tanks.

Big mistake.

When Hubby and I loaded the machine into the van, we hoisted it in without removing the tubing that connects the main machine to the secondary machine that fills tanks. When the guys removed it from the SUV at my cousin's house, the tubing got bumped just right, so that the fitting that connected the tubing to the machine broke.

None of the kings horses and none of the kings men (nor any amount of super glue or gorilla glue) could put Humpty together again.

The main oxygen machine still worked, but required that Dad be sitting within 40 feet or so of a plug-in. The cemetery was right behind the church, but not that close. So, now what?

My cousin and I called some friends of theirs who own a welding shop. They thought they might be able to help, so we went over. Unfortunately, the oxygen tanks used in welding don't have the same type of fittings that medical oxygen tanks do; nor did they have any means to fill a tank.

So, I called the hospital in that town. Yes, they had an oxygen tank we could borrow, but they suggested I call his home medical supplier, because Medicare only allows one company to bill for oxygen supplies. When I called the supplier, I was told they couldn't do that, and we'd have to pay for it ourselves. But, we could go to their sister company an hour away to get a replacement part.

We left a little early for the funeral so we could stop at the hospital to get the tank. We paid a $25 rental fee, and left a $100 deposit to ensure we'd bring it back. We all cried through the funeral and the interment. Then, after we ate with the family, I said goodbye to my Husband again as he drove the hour to the sister home medical supply company. They lent him a tank to get Dad home, we returned the rented tank to the hospital, and all was well.

Interestingly, the hospital sent back Mom and Dad's $25 check. That was pretty sweet of them.

Adventures in Eldersitting--Overnight Travel, Part 1

o, we went to Uncle's funeral. This is the first time we've gone anywhere overnight. Dad really wanted to drive two hours up on Thursday for the visitation (3-8 p.m.), drive two hours back, and then get up Friday morning and drive two hours again and get there in time for the family service at 10 a.m.

I have said it before, and I don't mind admitting it again--I am so not Superwoman.

Dad didn't want to stay overnight because he is on oxygen full time, and between his two portable tanks, he can get about 8 hours of oxygen. We assured him that we could load his oxygen machine into the van and that it would be much better to stay up there overnight.

Ya know, if I'd listened to him, I would have been tired, but I would have avoided two other "adventures" that I could have done without.

First--I have never packed for Mom and Dad before. That was quite an experience in its own right. Get the Depends pads for Mom. Don't forget denture cleaner for Dad. (Dad has full dentures, but only wears the top plate, so the bottom one needed to be left at home in its bowl of water. As I've been cleaning, I keep running across yet another blue plastic denture bowl Dad got from a hospital stay. There were a ton of them, and I've been recycling them rather than allowing them to continue to be collected. Do you suppose I could find an extra one when it was time to go?)

Anyway, next is medications. We were planning to stay at a hotel, and the last thing I wanted was to have their meds packed in a suitcase at the hotel and need some of them while we were at a restaurant. So, I put them in Mom's purse. But, she had just switched to a smaller bag, and objected to having them in there. I put them in my purse.

Mom wanted to take a bag of letters with her, in case she had time to work on them. No, I'm not talking about letters she wanted to write to family or friends. I'm talking about Publisher's Clearing House letters.

As I was walking out the door, I was so concerned that I not forget any of their stuff that I managed to leave without my own purse! Yes, the very same purse that I'd put their meds in!

We didn't have Mom and Dad's meds, but I did have those PCH entries. (She never once looked at them while we were gone.)

When I realized we didn't have the meds, I called the pharmacy. The tech I talked to figured it was pretty important they not miss their meds for a day. I told my husband that I was going to drive back home and get them. He said, "No you're not. I am going to go get them." What a doll. :)

With a 4+ hour trip ahead of him, Hubby couldn't make it back before we'd have to leave the funeral home, so we discussed going to a hotel and getting rooms, and finding someone to bring us there after the visitation was done. When my cousin heard that, she insisted we could stay at their house. Alan thought about stopping there to drop off our stuff on the med run, but my cousin said we could just transfer everything into her SUV, and she'd get us there.

That was a mistake. But, you'll read more about that in Part 2.

Dad's Pain

Dad has a lot of pain. And I'm not talking about myself.

He has had chronic headaches, for decades. He's got irritable bowel syndrome and lymphocytic colitis, so he has a lot of belly pain. He has acid reflux, so he often has chest pain that is hard to distinguish from heart problems (he had a heart attack and bypass surgery in the 90's). And it seems he's developed arthritis in his upper back and sternum.

One of the doctors that treated him for his chronic headaches gave him prescriptions for morphine. Stupid doctor. Reminds me of the joke, "What do you call the person who graduates last in the class in medical school? Doctor!"

Dad became addicted to the morphine, his personality changed, he started threatening Mom, talked about killing himself, and isolated himself (and because of his suicide threats, isolated Mom, because she wouldn't go anywhere without him). We did a family intervention, put him through drug rehab, and hoped for the best. He has a new doctor, one who knows about the morphine problem and who won't give it to him again!

Well, a few weeks ago, Dad's belly pain got so bad, he couldn't eat dinner or breakfast the next day. So, we took him to the ER.

While I was in the restroom, the doctor gave Dad morphine.

Ever since then, Dad has had one pain after another. It moves from place to place and escalates. And he keeps asking for more morphine. We keep refusing to give it to him. From what I understand, once the brain has experienced an addictive drug like morphine, it can "create" the trigger that used to get it. So, Dad's brain had a taste of morphine, and now it wants more. I don't know how long it will take for the desire to go away. It's been more than a month already.