It’s been raining here all day, and I’m not sure if I’m mellow because of the dreary skies (I do love the sunshine) or if I’m heavy-hearted because of my dad’s condition; he came down with pneumonia earlier this week, so he's not progressing as quickly as we'd hoped. Either way, if I sound a little negative, I’m really not. It’s just that watching my dad with tubes going in and out of his body and unable to effectively communicate makes me feel so helpless. And you all know how I like to solve the world’s problems and “make it all better.”
The doctor says that Dad’s chest x-rays still don’t look good. He assumes the smoke damage is what caused the pneumonia and is hopeful that Dad will start to improve so the skin grafting on his hands can take place on Monday or Tuesday. That means I will be blessed to spend time with him every morning (I take the morning shift and his wife, Justine, takes the afternoon shift) for a couple more weeks.
Dad’s hands look good (or as good as they can look after being badly burned) with no signs of infection, and his faceimproves amazingly every day. Because he’s on a ventilator and has more tubes attached to him than I can count (filling him with all kinds of medication, nutrition, and sedatives) most of his time is spent sleeping.
We (I) visit about simple things, and I massage his head and rub his feet with lotion in between periods of rest. Other than playing “twenty questions” and Dad nodding yes or no, it’s pretty quiet when someone isn’t torturing (that’s what the nurses call it) him when they re-dress or perform therapy on his hands, give him a cold bed bath, and a dozen or so other minor procedures.
Thank you so much for your thoughts and prayers on my father’s behalf. My family and I are grateful for your love and support.