For four months my brother and I had been planning a big birthday celebration for my father. One month in I realized my brother thought this would be my fathers' 90th birthday when, in fact, it would be his 89th. Right off the bat, Murphy and his stupid law came into play. We should have aborted the whole deal right then but we decided to move forward with our plans.
I put in for a vacation day the day before the party. The pig had been ordered and supplies were purchased. I got off work Thursday at 8:30 pm, got home, and at 10:30 pm dad needed to go to the ER. Spent the next four hours hoping to get the situation sorted (and they thought they had) got home, slept for two hours, got up, and headed to finish the shopping. Two carts of supplies later, I emerge from the battle field of Walmart to the hardest rain I have ever seen. I waited for 15 minutes because, in theory, there is no way it can keep raining that hard for that long. Wrong! It was not letting up...so off I ran, pulling two carts and getting soaked. Groceries in trunk, I return the cart to its proper place (because I, for the life of me, cannot leave it lingering in the parking lot) I jump in my car, and yes, the rain eased up. F'you Murphy...you sick SOB. As I pull into the driveway, I kid you not, it begins another torrential downpour and will not let up. Soaked again.
I unload all the groceries and start cooking...baked beans, mac'n'cheese, and marinated vegetables. I have to go back to town two or three more times, between cleaning and cooking, before I get settled in for the night. I finally get to a place where I can relax for a bit and dad realizes he has another problem. This is something we can monitor for a bit so at 11 pm I tell him to wake me if the problem persists. At 3 am (just 2 hours after I fell asleep) the problem persists, so off we go, back to the ER (the same ER as the night before...1st mistake). They (the doctors) resolve the issue (or so they thought) and four hours later we are on the way home. My brother is less than an hour away with the pig, so there would be no sleep for me. I hate you Murphy.
My brother arrives with the pig...they get the grill fired up and the pig goes on the grill. (PETA will love this picture)
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| This little piggy went to market |
Everything goes well for the next 5 or 6 hours and then the problem we thought was resolved, wasn't resolved at all. I finally put in a call to my fathers' urologist and explain the issue and he insists that I bring him to the hospital he is with, 30 miles away. So at 3 pm, as guests begin to arrive, the guest of honor and myself take off to yet another ER for the third time in as many days. I did manage to get a bite of charred pig ear, (which was tasty by the way), as we headed down the not so yellow brick road. Murphy, I would stomp your ass if I knew who you were and could find you...or a distant relative of yours...jerk.
Seven hours later he was finally admitted and in his room. I tucked him in, wished him a happy birthday, (in a rather sarcastic tone), and drove myself home to a smoldering pig carcass and a dirty house. If there was ever a time I wished I could drink alcohol, that was it. I stared at a bottle of whiskey like it was a naked George Clooney but then decided it wasn't worth the hang-over. I went into my room, shut the door, and collapsed into bed, too exhausted to sleep. I flipped through the channels to find something to help me fall asleep and came upon "Sex sent me to the ER" and literally laughed so hard I peed myself. It was as though Murphy was laying right beside me saying, "I created this law just for this very day". I punched the pillow beside me and swore, if I ever meet anybody with the name "Murphy" I would punch him in the throat.
That was a week ago, almost to the minute as I type this. I have spent the last seven days spending the entire day with dad at the hospital and then coming home to make sure mom wasn't trying to do anything she shouldn't be doing. I have eaten Subway every day (except today) and haven't lost a single pound. I call bullshit on the whole eating subway to lose weight diet. But I guess that diet didn't include the three chocolate chip cookies I had along with the sandwiches.
The original issue in which dad was admitted for was resolved after two days but then a new issue came to light and that has not been as easy to fix. Every day the doctor says, "one more day". The first few days I was pleasant and patient but now I'm like the worst case scenario of the patient family member that nurses dread most. I have too much medical knowledge, hospital administrative knowledge, and a nose for bullshit. By day four I was throwing out clues that I'm no dummy and I want information. Don't just tell me his sodium is low; I want the numbers. Don't just tell me you are trying to resolve the issue; I want details of how you plan to do this and what medications you plan to use, how often, and why you think that is a good plan of action. If I call and ask how my father is doing, don't try to pacify me by saying "not much has changed"; I want to know the lab results from the most recent blood work. I am my fathers voice; literally, because he is experiencing hospital psychosis and is not completely oriented and can't really speak for himself.
So yes, the best laid plans...bla bla bla...that's life. Not everything can always go as planned. Bumps in a road that is also curvy, twisting, covered in snow with a bridge out...but we still find a way through. I made this commitment to my parents three years ago; to be here for them no matter what. It doesn't feel like a chore or something inconvenient I have to do. It feels like the natural and right thing to do. Nobody should worry about how they are going to get along when they get too old to do everything for themselves. I am not their babysitter. I am a care-taker/safety net. I am here when they need me and that gives them the peace of mind they need to enjoy their golden years. Life is what it is; it's all about making navigation changes to maneuver around the obstacles.
I still hate you Murphy.
You know Lifet kicks you in the butt, when your not looking.
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