Monday, March 26, 2007

Monday Blahs, Bullet Style

Eh. It's Monday again. Yippee. I got nuthin', so here's southern livin', bullet-style.

*Called the hospital Saturday night to check on Dad, and the nurse answered. Apparently, having open heart surgery reduces one to a childlike state again, because Nursie informed me that Dad was "on the potty." I could have gone all the rest of my life without the mental image of my father "going potty."

*Dad sounded rather feeble when I talked to him. The nurse also related that he had seemed confused earlier in the day, a condition my brother seconded. Dad says he wasn't confused, it was his family who was confusing. So, add "querulous" to the list as well. It's a bit alarming, because I'm not used to Dad being so doddery-sounding. He's always been so quick with a joke or an offhand comment that seeing him struggle is hard for me. Plus, I've never known anyone who has had open heart surgery, so I'm not sure *what* the recovery process is supposed to look like.

*Dad is not sleeping well in the hospital. Who ever sleeps well in the hospital? Plus, when he lays mostly flat, he gets hiccups, which are not doing his chest any good. I can't imagine that hiccuping feels good when you've had your chest unzippered. And he's having terrible heartburn. While he was in the ICU, he joked that the heartburn was like the worst trip to the State Fair you'd ever experienced. And that he was about to urp up a corndog, stick and all.

*That made me really miss Corndog. Anybody hear from him? Dr. Dog, if you're out there, check in, okay? I miss you.

*Next week is our Spring Break. Can I tell you how heavenly it will be to spend a whole week, sleeping late and catching up on stuff around the house? It seems like life is so go, go, go during the week that there's barely time to decompress on the weekends. Much less get anything accomplished. Laundry? Mt. Washeteria is beginning to resemble Mt. Fuji, complete with snow-capped peak, in my laundry room. If I let it go too much longer, Godzilla just might crawl out from under there.

*Our klepto student has stopped stealing for the last week or so. Now we've moved on to biting ourselves and blaming it on other people. This school year cannot end fast enough on some counts.

*We did have one of our school "experts" in behavior management come and view the Klepto Kid today. Hopefully, the expert will have some suggestions on how to deal more effectively with her, because I am all out of ideas.

*I'm really bummed because Offspring did not get chosen in the random lottery for an open slot at the Honors Academy next year. She's number 13 on the waiting list. Does it make me a terrible person if I hope 13 people somehow magically get bumped from the acceptance list for one reason or another so she can have a slot? I'm not superstitious, but 13 will be my new lucky number if she gets in.

*This is where I act and think positively, because she was number 40 on the waiting list for PreK, and she still managed to get in. (please, please, please....)

*I really DO NOT want her to go to the school that she will have to attend otherwise if she doesn't get a slot at the Honors Academy. Not a good school academically, and a friend who has children there this school year has already had her son stabbed with a pencil. Twice. And part of the reasoning behind it was that he has CP, and can't get away fast enough. He was an easy mark. Great. Really sounds like a place I want my tender-hearted, bookish child to attend.

*Had a field trip with my Girl Scouts this weekend, and they complained the! whole! way! through it. It was a walking tour that *they* selected! Several of them wanted me to CARRY them! They're ten and eleven years old! I'm fat and out of shape, and I could still walk it! There was a constant refrain of "It's hot. I'm tired!" One lagged behind the entire time, necessitating me to push and shoo her along like she was a recalcitrant cow, or something. Man, I can't *wait* for summer break!

*Is it a bad sign that I'm sitting here, wracking my brain, trying to think of bullets?

5 comments:

Phantom Scribbler said...

Dr. Dog has been spotted a few times here.

It's my impression that open-heart surgery requires a long, long period for recovery, and patients are quite weakened post-op. But someone who actually knows something about it is probably a better source of information.

Crossing my fingers that 13 is your lucky number!

ccw said...

The memory/foggy thing is VERY common after open heart surgery. I have never spoken to a single person who did not have this complaint. For most it gets better over time but it does take time. My stepfather still as an occassional "loss" and it's been 1o years.

Phantom is right, the recovery is a slow and painful process. Remember they cracked him open - ouch! The pain and length of recovery is something most doctors tend to gloss over. Don't worry though he will get better.

I am thinking semi-bad thoughts about the 13 students ahead of Offspring. Don't blame me, I'm bipolar! :)

Old Lady said...

Open Heart surgery recovery depends on the damage to the heart, if any. The body has to heal from the cuts and stitches. they make you move, because that helps to heal faster. The pain medication makes a person whacky. the Blood pressure medication makes them a little tired. The majaor trauma is the surgery itself. The rest will be all about building his strength and heart back up to pace.

lostinthemiddle said...

The confusion is called "pump head"; it's an effect of being on the heart-lung machine.

It *is* very very unsettling seeing one's dad in such a fragile state (I've yet to see my mom so, but I imagine that will awful too). Recovery does take time, but it sounds like the surgery went smoothly .

Glad he's OK. You will be too, eventually.

Gary said...

Sorry I've been incommunicado. But I'm glad your dad's surgery went well and I hope his recovery is rapid and thorough. And I hope Offspring finds her way off the waiting list and into the Honors Academy. And like Phantom said, I'm timidly dipping my toe back into the blogging pool over at a new place.