Two Weeks
It's been two weeks and one day since my dad's accident. Is that really all? The past two weeks have eclipsed just about everything else in our lives, so it's a bit baffling that it's really only been fifteen days.
Dad wasn't allowed to work with PT/OT yesterday because his hemoglobin was low. I guess that makes a person tired, which makes it risky to sit up on the side of a bed and work on things like balance, equilibrium strength, and core strength when you're already broken in a bunch of places. He was given a blood transfusion yesterday afternoon to help correct the hemoglobin shortage. While missing a day of therapy after a three-day streak felt kind of disappointing in the moment, maybe he needed the day off to rest. As they've begun to wean down his pain medications this week, Dad hasn't been sleeping nearly as much as he did the first week he was in the hospital. And even in that first week his sleep was in short stretches and often fitful. We're all worried about the level of sleep deprivation he's contending with.
The past two days Dad has continued to be in his own world of work and mumbling, but that world seems to have gotten further from the rest of us. He has seemed less able to come back to reality and hold a conversation when doctors (or family) walk into the room and want to speak with him. When he does try to communicate, we haven't been able to understand much of what he's been saying. Prior to these two days, we could understand his words most of the time, they just didn't always make sense. We requested a second cognitive evaluation yesterday (he had an initial one during his first few days which looked fine). The speech therapist who came for that was confident his delirium is all because of the medicines he's on, the interrupted sleep and lack of routine that comes with living in a hospital, and the trauma he's experienced. We're hoping she's right, but we're still pursuing conversations with any doctor who walks into the room and agrees even a little bit with our concern over his mental state.
Every day that I find myself discouraged by Dad's apparent mental absence, I end up asking myself, Do I really wish it on him to be mentally present during this turmoil? As hard as it is for us to see him like this and to cope with his rambling and fidgeting, I still think it's better for him to be out of it than with it and depressed. We're just looking for answers regarding cause and possible longevity of his current state of mind.
Please continue to pray. If you visit, sing with/to him. Hymns have consistently had some degree of a calming effect on him from the very first time Mom tried playing music. Sometimes music or Scripture draws out moments of lucidity as well. Lately, he continues to fidget and might stare around the room as if he's somewhere else, but he usually hums with whoever is singing, and sometimes sings the words as well. Mom sang "It is Well" to him a day or two ago, and when she finished she asked him, "Is it well with your soul?" He said, "I hope so."
~~~
This just in from Micah: “He slept for about 2-2.5 hours and is now able to open his eyes and talk coherently and eat. Doesn't like the food though.” Praising God for little miracles!!
Dad wasn't allowed to work with PT/OT yesterday because his hemoglobin was low. I guess that makes a person tired, which makes it risky to sit up on the side of a bed and work on things like balance, equilibrium strength, and core strength when you're already broken in a bunch of places. He was given a blood transfusion yesterday afternoon to help correct the hemoglobin shortage. While missing a day of therapy after a three-day streak felt kind of disappointing in the moment, maybe he needed the day off to rest. As they've begun to wean down his pain medications this week, Dad hasn't been sleeping nearly as much as he did the first week he was in the hospital. And even in that first week his sleep was in short stretches and often fitful. We're all worried about the level of sleep deprivation he's contending with.
The past two days Dad has continued to be in his own world of work and mumbling, but that world seems to have gotten further from the rest of us. He has seemed less able to come back to reality and hold a conversation when doctors (or family) walk into the room and want to speak with him. When he does try to communicate, we haven't been able to understand much of what he's been saying. Prior to these two days, we could understand his words most of the time, they just didn't always make sense. We requested a second cognitive evaluation yesterday (he had an initial one during his first few days which looked fine). The speech therapist who came for that was confident his delirium is all because of the medicines he's on, the interrupted sleep and lack of routine that comes with living in a hospital, and the trauma he's experienced. We're hoping she's right, but we're still pursuing conversations with any doctor who walks into the room and agrees even a little bit with our concern over his mental state.
Every day that I find myself discouraged by Dad's apparent mental absence, I end up asking myself, Do I really wish it on him to be mentally present during this turmoil? As hard as it is for us to see him like this and to cope with his rambling and fidgeting, I still think it's better for him to be out of it than with it and depressed. We're just looking for answers regarding cause and possible longevity of his current state of mind.
Please continue to pray. If you visit, sing with/to him. Hymns have consistently had some degree of a calming effect on him from the very first time Mom tried playing music. Sometimes music or Scripture draws out moments of lucidity as well. Lately, he continues to fidget and might stare around the room as if he's somewhere else, but he usually hums with whoever is singing, and sometimes sings the words as well. Mom sang "It is Well" to him a day or two ago, and when she finished she asked him, "Is it well with your soul?" He said, "I hope so."
~~~
This just in from Micah: “He slept for about 2-2.5 hours and is now able to open his eyes and talk coherently and eat. Doesn't like the food though.” Praising God for little miracles!!
awww,...heavy times...taking this all to our Loving SAVIOR with you.
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