Walking at an angle.

Lyn and P.G. on their wedding day.  March 7, 1943. 

My Dad was taken by ambulance to the hospital yesterday. Remember, he is 91. When he woke up he was having difficulty breathing. This has more or less gone on for at least 2 months now. Mom had taken him to their family doctor in November because he was complaining of shortness of breath. After New Years he contracted a nasty upper respiratory infection. His breathing, appetite, and energy level have all been way off. Apparently yesterday it was even harder to breath. Mom wanted to call 911. Dad argued for her not to do that. Just picture it - two 91 year olds arguing whether to call an ambulance. It is rather comical actually. Thank heavens their care giver, Sandra, arrived about an hour after they woke up. She said they DID need to call 911.  Mom did. Dad spent most of the morning in the emergency room. Sisters, Mimi and Marsha, were their to help with Mom and be with Dad. Eventually he was admitted into a room at the hospital. Diagnosis - congestive heart failure (complete with irregular heart beat and leaky valve). The CHF is not new. He has suffered for years with it. The nurses began the lasix regimen (sp?) by IV and during the afternoon he was able to pass away much of the fluid that was constricting his breathing.
The very difficult part is that I am 250 miles away and don't know what is happening minute to minute. I had things to keep me busy yesterday but the entire day was tempered with the thought of what was happening to Dad. I kept it at arm's length. Yesterday. Today I have felt on the verge of tears. My head keeps me doing what needs doing. My heart see trees budding and hopes that Dad will live to see another spring. To see his 69th wedding anniversary in March. No doctor or other person has said he is dying. Yet. In the back of my mind. I know he will not live forever.
I feel like I am walking at a 45 degree angle. I am going on with the day but it is just off slightly. I need to put clean sheets on the bed. Dad's heart is working at about 25% its capacity. Red beans and rice for supper. The doctor wants to make him comfortable. I need to go by the cabinet shop. They started heparin in his IV last night. Its hard to walk like this. With this knot in my heart and everything at such an angle. This morning he only weighed 153 pounds. My sweet, sweet Daddy. My little Daddy.

Mom and Dad on the occasion of her 90th birthday. September 15, 2010.

Amanda, sister from Virginia, flew in last night. She had been planning an extended trip to visit/help Mom and Dad. She will add another body to the rotation of "stay with Dad at the hospital, get Mom home for food and rest and then back to the hospital". Mom will be exhausted just from the thought of it all. Dad gets to be taken care of. Mom has to work at keeping herself going. No mean task for a 91 year old heart attack and stroke survivor.

My brain hurts from being tilted.