December 10, 2002

Dad had surgery today, We took him to the hospital at 10 a.m. this Tuesday morning and by 1:15 he'd left for surgery. At 5:15 the doctor came out and said everything went well and we could see him in his room in about an hour. Can't wait.

We figure that his recovery will be hit and miss. Tonight he should be tired because of the narcotics. Tomorrow, when they start weaning him off, he'll be awake and the fight will begin. They want to keep him here for three or four days. They also want him to go to a nursing home for rehab. I don't think so---he can't even handle being in his own home for a day. how can he possibly handle a nursing home?

That is why we moved here---so that we could take care of him and he wouldn't be in a nursing home.

When Dad got our of recovery he was amazing. he began talking almost immediately. He's confused as always, telling the nurses that I'm his wife and my name is Joann. He also must have asked one million times, "Where was he?"

He wanted to get up and walk. We got him to eat what they called dinner, consisting of clear broth, tea, gelatin, and ice cream. I told the nurses I would stay to take care of Dad, but they told me to go home; that he was in good hands. I gave the nurses my phone number, just in case. I said I could be there in ten minutes.

Well, sure enough, I was not home two hours when the phone rang. Dad had ripped out his catheter, torn off his dressing s and tried to pull out the drain port. And, of course, he tried getting out of bed. So there I was, with my trusty blanket, as I knew I'd have a long night ahead of me.

He did not sleep. He talked and chanted prayers and begged me to take the restraints off. He yelled and swore at me. He told me he was going to bite me or knock me down. The best one was he said he'd tell the teamsters what was going on, because "It was not right."

Sometimes he was mean and ugly and sometimes he was sweet. I'd say, "Hush, Dad. You are waking up the house."

He would say he was sorry and be quiet for 15 minutes. Then it would start again.

Well, all in all, it was a good day. Dad is alive and feisty and I still have the privilege of taking care of him

Hope you enjoyed this little bit from my journal. Happy Holidays.
Sincerely,
Marie Fostino
Alzheimer's A Caretakers Journal
Seaboard Press An Imprint Of James A. Rock & Co., Pub.
www.mariefostino.com