Last night I made a decision. Well, I made a decision in the afternoon, but last night I reversed it. Yesterday a surgeon from my dad’s hospital called. He’d examined Dad and found that he had a heart condition that caused his heart to beat alternately very fast and very slow. He wanted to insert a pacemaker to keep my dad’s heartbeat regular. I asked if my dad was capable of giving consent. The doctor said no. Sounded simple enough, so I said sure. He scheduled surgery for the next day.
Sometimes things just come together. And thank God they do. Since I had returned from my dad’s last week, I’d been working on his finances, trying to find a way to pay for his 24-hour home care. When I brought him a check for the first week of care, he took one look at the amount and refused to sign it. “This should be covered,” he said. (See “I shall not be charged”) I promised to try to get it covered and by the time I left, I lied and said that I had.
We continue the saga of Dad’s latest accident. Let’s tune in.
Friday was the third day I spent at Dad’s and it brought a huge snowstorm, well, huge for someone used to Seattle, but the 24-hour aide took a cab to Dad’s house in the morning, thank God. He asked what my dad needed and I told him about Dad’s state of health – couldn’t walk, coughing and in and out of reality — and that Dad was nocturnal. The night before, Dad woke at 11 p.m. and wanted me to take him to another room. I said no, because I was exhausted, had to go to bed and couldn’t help him back and forth for two hours. I couldn’t lift him by myself, either. He’s skinny, but he’s solid. I told him to call me if he needed me.
My phone rang as I was waiting for my flight to New York to take care of my dad. “This is Visiting Nurse Service. Our aide went to your dad’s house today and found him on the floor, so she called 911. The ambulance came and your father refused to go to the hospital. He’s allowed to refuse, so they left.”