I am going to enjoy life after 50 if it kills me!

Posts tagged ‘broken hip’

A Long, Strange Trip I’m Still On

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This photo has absolutely nothing to do with this post, except that I miss my little man and wish I could spend more time with him.

Since my dad fell, a lot has happened.  After a week it became clear that while his hip was healing beautifully, the rest of his body was bent out of shape over the whole thing.  His kidneys began to fail and that took awhile to deal with.  Then his bladder decided it was not going to work as a protest to this whole thing, and that he’s still dealing with.  Then, just for fun, his blood pressure started to plummet whenever he stood during his occupational therapy sessions.  After only a minute or two, he’d feel so weak he’d have to sit back down.

Fortunately, by the time all this started, I had already taken a leave of absence from work until the end of the school year.  I have been living at my dad’s house so I can visit him daily, attend doctor’s appointments with him, keep track of his meds, pay his bills, etc.

Because I needed more of a challenge apparently, while all this was going on, my dog got a nasty, nasty ear infection, as basset hounds are prone to do.  She has been to the vet three times and is on a host of antibiotics.  She also managed to pick up fleas, which got a foothold because when Dad fell, I forgot to give the dog her flea meds for a week or so.

To make a long story short, my apartment is teeming with fleas, my car is infested, and my dad’s house has a few fleas.  Because I’ve been living there, I’ve had a chance to treat the dog and the house, so they’re almost gone.

So while I’m waiting for my apartment and car to air out from the flea bombs, I’ve had a chance to write this post at a local sandwich shop while very slowly eating lunch.

This all, by the way, is STILL wayyyy less stressful than teaching fifth graders.

PS – I tripped over the dog a couple weeks ago, landing in the road on my mouth.  Next week I’ll be getting a crown on one of my front teeth.  That dog is the most expensive pet I’ve ever owned.

 

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The U-Turn in My Easter Weekend

I love my dad.  He’s 83, lives two hours away (a safe distance for both of us), and he called me Saturday, as I was headed to the local sandwich shop to meet my daughter for lunch.

Me:  Hey!  How ya doin'”

Dad:  Not so good.  I fell yesterday and broke my hip.  I’m in the hospital.

Dad:  Hello?  Are you there?

Holy cow. In the next hour I managed to cancel lunch, get my daughter to take care of my dog and fill my grandson’s Easter basket, pack a bag and get on the road.  As I left town, I realized I didn’t know what hospital my dad was in.  How many could there be, right?  Several, actually.

My other daughter called me while I was driving and offered to search for me.  I love my daughter and Google, in that order.  In a little while she called back with the name of the hospital, address, directions, and my dad’s room number.  I really love Google, so you can only imagine how much I love my daughter.  And her sister.  Equally.  And their brother.  Equally.  I’m serious.

I walked into my dad’s room to find him in bed, somewhat surprised to see me.  Like I’d wait a day.  C’mon, Dad.  He was not in much pain, unless he tried to move his leg.  He also scraped up his arm, so he was bandaged from elbow to wrist.  But other than that, he actually looked pretty good.

Surgery the next morning went off right on schedule.  He broke his hip right at the top of his leg, where the ball part of the ball and socket is.  He now has a shiny new metal ball connected to his leg.

When they wheeled him back to his room, he opened his eyes, said, “Am I walking?”, grinned, and closed his eyes again.  That’s my dad, and I knew then he’d come through surgery no worse for wear.  A couple hours later I told him I’d stay until he got tired, so he dropped his head, feigning sleep, and began to snore.  Yep, he’s gonna be fine.

While sitting in a quiet hospital waiting room, I realized how blessed I am.  It could have been a horrible outcome.  Even at 53, I still look for his humor and guidance every Saturday when I call him for our weekly phone date.  I’m glad that date will be kept for awhile longer.  Because as he likes to remind us, to know him is to love him.

I hope your Easter turned out as happy as mine.

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