Doctors SUCK

Today, I found out just how much doctors don't value your time.

Finally, the ball is rolling on my dad's treatments; it took a phone call from my mother to the doctor to discover they hadn't even processed his paperwork yet. It was sitting on someone's desk, probably encrusted with coffee stains and neon-glow cheesy poof crumbs. But, at least they said, "oh, geez...come in tomorrow for an MRI at 1:30, then there's two more appointments: one at 2:30, and the next on Thursday morning at 9:30." Okay, fine. Forget the fact that I'm the one who has to drive him there: "Uh, boss, I just found out that you'll be losing two half-days of productivity from me with no notice because of scheduling incompetence." Luckily, her attitude was that of "you gotta do what you gotta do." Whew. So, that being said, I get to my parents' house, when my mother tells me the appointment was moved up to 1:15. "*Teeth grinding* sure, *twitch* no problem *twitch twitch*."

I went to work earlier than usual today, then left to go to the appointments. They were long, but necessary. But, hey, as a consolation prize, I was treated to *ahem* Chinese (shhh, you didn't hear that). After we got back to the house, which was around 6:30, we discovered a voice mail from the doctor's office for tomorrow's appointment. [nasal voice] "We need to change your appointment time to 3:30 p.m." @#^%^$#%**($!!!!! Now, I have to go in to work tomorrow morning, which no one expects me to do since I haven't been able to tell anyone of the change, just to leave early again! Those f@#$ing *bleep* *bleep* *BLEEEEEEEEP*...

Finally Got the House Sold

The house on South 2nd.

After many months of suffering, anguish, and mayhem, my grandparents’ house is finally sold! Thanks to the soaring costs of health care for the elderly, we were forced to put the old homestead up for auction to help pay for grandma’s ongoing medical care at a local nursing home. It’s sad to let go of a place that’s been in the family for 66 years, but it needed a lot of work, and no one in the family was in any position to buy it.

It was a long, busy day.

What we found astonishing was the amount of crap my grandparents accumulated over their lifetimes. We found whole sets (with an “s”) of fine china; one set was wrapped in newspaper dated from 1944! I collect old maps, so I got to inherit a multitude of old atlases and road maps; my prized finds are a Pennsylvania State Highway Map from 1937, and a visitor’s map to Philadelphia from the Democratic National Convention of 1936. It required two auctions to get rid of it all; one in late August, and the other was yesterday.

One good thing that came of this was the workout I got moving furniture, tables, and running items up stairs from a holding area in the basement. When our role was finished, which was about one in the afternoon, I got to take a hike through the town to blow off steam, and soak up the beautiful mid-October day.

This sums up the whole experience: "'arrowing"

Now that the saga of the house is finished, my dad can focus completely on his recovery; and although I don’t need to help with the house anymore, the challenge remains to take care of his needs while trying to squeeze in my own. Even today, there was no respite; we had to resume the weekly ritual of visiting my grandmother at the assisted-living facility, and breaking the news to her that her house was no longer hers. In a way, though, her suffering with Alzheimer’s seemed to be a blessing; her response was, “What’s for lunch?”

The Shoes Make the Man

Today, I finally got to walking again! I hit the ol' treadmill for about an hour, and it felt great. I tell you one thing, the shoes make the man. A couple months ago, I went out on a limb and bought a pair of relatively inexpensive toning shoes (the kind with the rounded sole), at a local box store. I was curious to see if the "hype" regarding how they burn fat and tone was just that. Well, I have to say, after walking for an hour straight in them, I'm feeling it. I'm disappointed, though, at the limited selection for men; one of the chief complaints I've heard about them is purely aesthetic (they look like platforms, man!) Hey, I don't care; they're comfy, and they seem to be doing the trick.

Back in the Saddle Again

Current weight: 305 lbs

After everything that’s been going on with my dad the last couple of weeks, I haven’t had a lot of time to hit the gym, track, or anything else of usefulness to yours truly (excuses, excuses). I have, however, rediscovered the magical realm of the refrigerator, and that’s a bad thing. Luckily, yesterday I had to help move some furniture at my grandparents’ old house, so I suppose that could count as some physical activity. Obviously, I need to do better than that. That’s why, starting tonight, I’m jumping back on the wagon, provided it slows down enough for me to catch it. I had  fish for dinner with veggies on the side, so that’s a good start.

Dad Returns Home...Now the Work Begins

In a surprising turn of events, my dad was discharged from the hospital this afternoon, sooner than expected. Many of us were expecting him home tomorrow at the earliest. That's a good thing, but now the long treatment begins. He's still physically weak but alert.

I know one thing; crises tend to bring about the weirdest circumstances, and sometimes small miracles occur (and we could use them). For instance, having my dad laid up has my mother (bless her) in a tizzy. She has zero medical knowledge. My ex-spouse, however, is a trained Certified Nurse Aide, but they really don't see eye-to-eye about, well, everything. However, tonight, my ex is caring for my dad with my mom's blessing, and they're actually getting along! Can you hear the angels?

Dad's Back to His Ol' Self

I didn't have an opportunity to post anything yesterday because I was picking up where my dad left off in preparing my grandparents' old house for sale. He was doing most of the work, but for obvious reasons now he's going to have to hang up that job for a while. I did get to see him briefly last evening, and he's starting to look better. He was more responsive, and at his insistence we put the Penn State game on for him on the TV in his room. The dude loves his Lions, but even he admitted that he probably wouldn't be able to stay awake for the whole game.

I didn't get an opportunity to visit with him today, but my mother and brother did. Apparently, he was even more alert than he was last night. He admitted that he stayed awake for all but the last eight minutes of the football game, and that was only because he knew at that point Penn State was done for. We found out why he wasn't eating that much; in a nutshell, the hospital was feeding him crap. My dad is a notoriously picky eater, and there are several taboo foods you never feed him: mushrooms, peppers, onions, green beans, any kind of barbecue sauce on meat, to name a few. My mother got a hold of the menu yesterday, and picked out stuff he'll actually eat; and today, he was wolfing his food down. Things are looking good for a possible Tuesday release; and that's when he'll find out about the fauna faux pas I had on Thursday night with his van. Gulp.

Maybe in a couple days I'll actually resume writing about my workouts, or lack thereof as is the case now. One thing I can say; tonight, I finally had culinary freedom to make whatever I wanted, and I chose sloppy joes with a side salad (I omitted the bun and used lean ground beef). It was darn tasty.

The Day After...

Today was the first twenty-four hours after my dad's surgery, and the reality hasn't set in yet. In fact, I went to work today, and put in the only full day of work this week. Other than answering the requisite "So how did your dad's surgery go?" seventeen times, the day was, well, normal. I did the same work I always did, and my co-workers heaped more work upon me like they always do. Some things got done in my absence, many others did not. Such is the way of things.

I was jolted to reality somewhat when my brother and I went to the hospital to pick up our mother, who sat vigilant by our dad's side all day long. Because he is still tired from the surgery, he slept almost the entire time, so she told us. He only came to when his sister visited around noon, and again when the nurse came in while we were there. He recognized us, and understood us. Though my brother and I didn't see it, my mother said that his words are still muddled. His face was bruised and swollen, like he was mugged. But, I still hold out hope that he's going to beat this. The waiting for the biopsy results are what's torture; it now looks that next Thursday is the day the results should be ready. Is it cancer, or not?