Going Backwards

Update: 

Dad is home and we await results of a chest x-ray and the ultrasound. The EKG wasn't a perfect reading, but didn't reveal anything significant from what I can decode.

We're back to feeding at a lower rate per hour to see how that goes.

Then there was a big discovery once at home that I made. Tessalon Perle is the medication prescribed to quell the hiccups. On the prescription, it says to take 1/2 or 1 pills up to 3 a day as needed. Guess what pill should never, ever be cut or ground up?

The known side effects at WebMD and Wikipedia read like a check list of many of Dad's symptoms that currently prevent him from drinking or swallowing anything. So that one will be out of the rotation to see if certain condition improve -- especially since it has failed to suppress the hiccups the last few days.

As a side note, my father's voice is getting a little better and had been up until yesterday. After the transfusion, it seems to be slightly stronger. He's been anemic due to the chemo, so no wonder he's been weak.

Update 2:

X-ray results show the feeding tube is where it is supposed to be. Unfortunately, it also revealed a mild case of pneumonia. Going to have to pick up antibiotics tomorrow.

Original post:

Dad is in terrible shape and the scheduled chemotherapy has been canceled. That doesn't mean we are free from Gundersen Clinic today.  At the moment, my father is receiving a blood transfusion due to a low red blood cell count and a host of debilitating symptoms.

Prior to that an EKG and ultrasound tests of his heart were done to assess whether there is a problem there. Results are pending, so the waiting game has returned.

The deterioration has become alarming. Almost as alarming as Dad's appearance. Doctors, nurse, and staff who've seen him before get such a look on their faces -- I'd describe it as a mix of shock and dismay.

Between his appearance and the hiccup induced weird sounds he makes, he had the other cancer patients looking very uncomfortable in the waiting area. My father was probably a reminder of how bad things could get.

He's as weak as a newborn kitten and has to have help dressing himself. This is a radical downturn after a promising Tuesday where he overexerted himself. Not that he really did much, but going up and down the stairs was a bit too much. Yesterday I moved his PC downstairs to reduce temptation.

Though last night's feeding through the tube failed at the halfway point, we will continue the regimen. No choice in the matter since he's become unable to orally ingest anything without choking. Everything is like pulling teeth, it seems.

Somehow I've managed to keep from falling apart health wise. The last two weeks have been brutal and flirtations with lower respiratory problems have shut me down at times. Since Dad has become such a handful, the realization that there can be no more time or efforts devoted to my health or interests has become something that cannot be ignored.

Last night illustrated that when I played a video game and couldn't figure out why my father was trying to slam shut the bathroom door repeatedly. Because his behavior has been erratic, my assumption was that he was having trouble with the humidity swollen door.

Then he showed up at the doorway to my room trying to shout with his fried vocal chords. He'd somehow managed to unplug the pump from the feeding tube and had been trying to signal me for help. Apparently part of it involved thumping SOS in Morse code.

So no more gaming, watching movies, or listening to music will be possible until he gets much stronger. If he does, the latest setbacks make me think that end game preparations need to begin in earnest. No matter what the outcome, contingency plans need to be made.

More later as the situation develops.