Hairy canary hospital

Last night (Oct 12) at 11:54pm, I received a call from my mom letting me know that her and dad decided it was finally time to call an ambulance and get him back in the hospital. My dad was complaining about a lot of pain in his belly which has expanded even more (because of an accumulation of fluid in his abdomen, not his chest).

My mom should have driven dad herself to the Toronto General ER instead of calling an ambulance. But she gets really anxious driving in big cities - especially at night - even more so with a sick husband she is worrying about.

When the ambulance arrived, the attendant informed my parents that because of their geographical location in the GTA, they were prohibited from driving them to the Toronto General. Instead, they took dad to some 'hairy canary' (as my dad later put it) hospital in Scarborough. My mom left him there for the evening and went back to the hotel to get some rest.

My dad was treated by three different doctors - two of which recommended he call his wife or a cab and jump on over to Toronto General, where he should have been taken in the first place.

Dad called me this morning at 7:45am asking me to call mom to tell her he needed to be picked up at 9am and transferred to the Toronto General ER.

I just tried calling their cell to get another update but there was no answer. I assume they probably grabbed some breakfast, then headed over to the Toronto General.

I now pump gas

I called mom this morning to see how things were going. She didn't sound so happy this time.

The doctors in Ottawa recommended that he be brought to Toronto ER as soon as they arrived in Toronto. So the very fact that he's been on his own for a few days is a miracle. He even walked quite a distance the first day they arrived which must have felt great for my dad.

One of the prescriptions my dad is on (some intense laxative) helps keep my dad more regular than normal. With liver failure, there is an increased amount of toxins in your digestive system. If he doesn't stay very regular, there is a chance the toxins can build up and cause other problems. Its been a messy weekend for my mom.

I can tell my mom is feeling pretty discouraged. She tries not to bring attention to herself during a difficult situation, but I can read between the lines that she feels very alone - especially during Thanksgiving weekend.

~

Our emotions - you can't live with 'em and you can't live without 'em. The very same mechanism that causes us to feel joy and euphoria can also deliver such negative feelings that it pushes us out of reality. My mom's feeling like no one cares and my dad is feeling like he's not going to make it. Well, just because you feel it certainly doesn't make it so.

Reality check! My mom isn't alone at all. She has tons of family and friends who love and support them - some who are even on their way to visit in the next few days. Furthermore, they are closer then they've ever been before to actually having this transplant take place - which it most definitely will.

More over, if reality weren't enough to combat their emotional negativity, they should take comfort knowing that whatever happens, God is in control! And he only thinks of good and awesome things for us/them! That's all he does. So what is there to worry about?

I can't stand emotions. They cloud judgement - cloud reality - cloud faith. I'd even argue that your emotional state can have an affect on your physical health. My parents, my dad especially, need to keep their emotions in check or things could get much worse.

I know how difficult it must be - especially after being couped up in the hospital for weeks on end. But, its what life has dished out for you. I can say this because I've been through my fair share of shitaki mushrooms as well. Sure, I spent the first few days wondering, Why me? Why do I have to be the bigger man? Why do I have to go through this? But you can't ask those questions. You can't compare yourself to others.

I don't know why this is happening - and frankly - I've learned the answer to that question is irrelevant. Its the cards you've been dealt. Be excited about how this situation is going to bring Glory to God. Think about whose lives will change for the better because of how you handled it. Think about how your life will be changed because of how you handle it.

Time - time is something else us humans must deal with that can be so cruel to us. Sure it seems like this has been going on forever. But in reality, its only been 6 months that Dad has been really really sick. And this whole thing will be over and done with in another 8 months. Sure, it sounds like a long time. But, when my dad is 78, and he takes a moment while laying back in his beach chair in the shores of Fiji to reflect back on his life, I'm sure he'll say, 'Man, that 2008 was a tough one - but so worth it!'

Am I being to harsh? I don't know if any of what I just typed is even relevant... its just how I feel.

~

On the flip side, mom is a very difficult person to get out of her comfort zone. And there are a few huge accomplishments that have taken place for her. Like driving in a big city - she hates that! She's never really done it. And when she finally did do it (yesterday trying to find the ER just so she knows the way), she did mess up a few times. But she got there eventually and she feels great!

When describing some of the great things that were going on, she exclaimed, "Josh - I now pump gas! I never did that before! And I'm getting so good at it!"

Good for you mom! You pump that gas!

Vacate the pool!

Just called my dad's cell and was greeted with an enthusiastic, "Heeelllo!" It was mom. She sounded amazing. I can't tell you how great it is to hear joy in my parents voice for once. The tone in both their voices for the past few weeks (and understandably so) had undertones of hopelessness and surrender. But not this time!

My mom said they had just walked from their beautiful hotel to the 'Scarborough Town Centre Mall'. My dad couldn't walk back (because he gets tired quickly) so my mom walked back to the hotel to grab the truck.

When my dad got on the line, I asked him how he was doing.

"Oh great, son! We had dinner last night but I threw it up 5min later which wasn't good. It didn't even smell bad. Just smelled like dinner. But, I was unconscious all night [embellishing]. I slept like a rock - first time in a while. Mom was so happy. This morning, we took a trip to the hospital to make sure we could get there. We're about 30min away. I woke up feeling great this morning. I wanted to go swimming, but I was afraid to go in. If anyone saw me in the pool right now they'd probably freak out. I'm full of scars, I'm skin and bone, and I have no ass hole! They'd probably start yelling, vacate the pool!"

I laughed hysterically. I'm not sure why my dad's ass hole (or lack of one) would be exposed to the general public when he's swimming. How does one even lose one's ass hole? I think he's talking about how because he's skin and bone, he doesn't have a bum anymore - just lots of flabby skin.

Scary comparison, I know, but a few months ago, mom said, "He looks like a concentration camp prisoner... I have to look away when he takes off his clothes and gets into bed. I get scared if I look."

Anyway, mom and dad are in good spirits and enjoying what I'm sure we'll be short-lived, but well deserved, time alone.

Bon Voyage

Mom and dad just left minutes ago for their trip to Toronto. It was so great to see my dad in good spirits. It was also amusing to see him in 3 sweaters, a toque, and 2 pairs of gloves. He's always cold.

They should be in their hotel by noonish. More updates to come.

Dad's Home... for 18hrs...

It was so great to get a call from Dad today - especially when the caller ID read, "Bloomfield, Brian" instead of "Ottawa Hospital". Dad is home!

Now, that doesn't mean his condition has changed much. When I stopped in to visit him, he was in his bed covered in 3 different blankets complaining about how cold it was. I took one of the blankets off and threw it into the dryer, even with my dad protesting. He thanked me 7min later when he had a fresh, hot blanket covering him insulated by 2 blankets.

~

I can't imagine how much a situation like this could change someone. My dad is a completely different person. As soon as he complained about how cold it was, before I heated up a blanket, I pulled his feet out of the blankets and started rubbing them with my hands to keep them warm. He enthusiastically thanked me as tears welled up in his eyes! He was so thankful that someone was willing to help keep him warm by rubbing his feet. I can't imagine being that broken... being that humbled. Know what I mean? Its almost like part of his character has had the reset button pushed. Makes me wonder if we should all be so broken.

~

The visit home is going to be short lived. My parents leave tomorrow morning at 8am for a Best Western in Scarborough. He has an appointment at Toronto General on Tuesday. The reason why my parents have to leave so early is because my dad is still very sick. If an emergency situation takes place in the next 48 hrs when he's still in Ottawa, he will just end up back in the Ottawa Hospital - which is the last place my dad needs to be. He needs to be in the Toronto Hospital where the doctors are able to conduct the transplant.

So the plan is for my parents to enjoy some time together in Scarborough until the appointment on Tuesday. If anything goes wrong between when they arrive and Tuesday, my dad will be in the Toronto General ER and in the system! Otherwise, his appointment on Tuesday may result in him becoming an inpatient in TO. If that doesn't work, my parents are staying in Toronto until he's either sick enough to go to ER or the transplant is booked. Realistically, the Ottawa doctors give my dad 2-5 days max on his own before he needs emergency medical attention again. He's very vulnerable.

Good news - for once!

Just got in from visiting pops.

First things first... I told my dad about all the overwhelming emails/messages we've been receiving about the blog and my dad's situation. I wish so badly that you all could experience his emotional response. As I was telling him, his whole demeanor relaxed, his eyes glistened and his chin twitched. Then he turned his head away to collect himself. All he could say was, "Wow... isn't that amazing!" He was soo overwhelmed and so encouraged by all your kind thoughts and words! Thank you so much!

If you all don't mind, I'd like to post a blog entry of all the kind emails and thoughts we've received so you can all share in the encouragement. I'm also going to print it and share it with my dad. I'm sure its something that he will keep close as he progresses through this battle.

Finally! Good news! On Oct 6, my dad began to receive visits from a man only known to us as, "the lung doctor". Whoever this guy is, he's a freakin legend. First thing he said when he walked in the room was, "What the? They've hooked this [referring to the chest tube] up all wrong!" I was a little angered at first. Who hooked what up wrong? But it became obvious over the next couple minutes that this dude knows his stuff and he was here to correct mistakes and give my dad some proper treatment. He quickly reconnected my dad properly and started draining his chest.

He explained, "Someone screwed up and drained way to much from your dad's chest a few nights ago. In the process, somehow, his chest cavity has filled back up with air and more water. So, I've hooked this device up properly and we'll be suctioning 400-500 units of fluid/air from his chest every 4 hours until he's empty."

Today (2 days later), the lung doctor confirmed that there hasn't been a single trace of fluid or air in my dad's chest cavity since that procedure on Monday. Furthermore, he says that if the chest cavity is still clean by tomorrow, they are going to remove the chest tube and send him home for Thanksgiving Dinner! How incredible is that! My dad is so excited.

The catch (of course) is that we'll have to drive him to the ER in Toronto first thing after Thanksgiving dinner. Heck - there's even a chance we'll have to take him before Thanksgiving even arrives. Once we're in Toronto, a new chapter begins!

Operation: Front of the Line

As mentioned in the previous post, Chelsea and I have been swamped the past week. We felt terrible that we wouldn't be able to visit my dad on Saturday as a close friend was getting married. We thought we'd stop by on Friday night (Oct 3) and drop off flowers, some photos, and lots of fruit (his favorite) to last him 'till Sunday.

When we arrived, my dad was acting quite strange. He's usually weak and lathargic. This time, he was panicy... energetic and scared. It was really disturbing to see. Kicking the bed. Grabbing his hair. Yelling that he can't breathe. At first, I thought it was very legitamite. I started to panic as well. I quickly realized something wasn't right when his vitals were reading completely normally. It turns out that the toxins that should be making there way out of his body in the bathroom are instead collecting in his brain. Furthermore, the high doses of narcotic pain medications and lack of sleep for over 3 days wasn't helping his situation.

I couldn't do much. I just sat at the end of his bed singing Amazing Grace - gently massaging his legs while he paniced. He finally started to calm down.

He sat up and cried on my shoulders. He's so scared. He apologized for scaring me. He scared himself. He's not sure why he panics like that... but aparently its just another symptom of his liver failure.

I was so glad he had calmed down. It got much better when some relatives drove from Sault St Marie (the Dempsters) to pay my dad a visit. His spirits were lifted by their visit! It was so good to hear my dad laugh - see him smile.

But it wasn't long after they left that things started to go down hill again. Almost as soon as he layed back down in his bed, he was panicing again. It got much worse. It got very messy (enough said). Chelsea was really upset by the situation. She asked how I wasn't crying - how I could be so strong. I didn't really have an answer.

One x-ray, 3 nurses, and 1 doctor later, my dad finally calmed down. It was great to see him laying still and calm. I kissed him on the forehead, prayed, and told him he needed to sleep. I knew I wouldn't see him 'till Sunday, so I decided to tell my dad I was leaving, but stick around in the lobby to make sure he actually did get to sleep.

I walked in 15min later and he was still awake... but very eager to sleep. He convinced me he was just about to sleep. I turned off a few extra lights in the room and made sure he was comfy and I left.

I didn't want to leave. At all. I was so nervous he was going to have another panic attack and no family would be there for him.

~

I showed up at the hospital today just to visit. I walked into my dad's room and someone else was in his bed. That through my for a loop. I walked down the hall and was greeted by my mom who looked like she had been crying, sitting infront of the acute care unit. "Dad's taken a turn..."

Turns out that last night, while I was partying at my buddy's wedding, my dad had another panic attack - complaining that he can't breathe. The doctors decided to drain 500 units of the fluid from his chest. So, some idiot nurse opened the valve to drain my dad and left the room. My dad quickly realized that the 500 units had drained... and much, much more. After 3000 units, the fluid started overflowing onto the floor. (Draining too much fluid at once can have adverse affects on your respiratory system). After repeatedly pressing the call button next to his bed and yelling for a nurse, my dad got up, and walked to the door of his room dragging his chest tube and overflowing fluid receptical behind him! After that, my dad somehow ended up back in his bed, covered in fluid and blood... and that's all he remembers.

When reciting what he remembers, he says, "I was covered in fluid... and... now your telling me its noon on Sunday!"

My dad is currently in the acute care unit A, floor 5, bed 1. His speach is stuttered and slurred. When I left, the nurses where trying desperately to find a vein to use for an IV because my dad is desperately low in something - I'm not sure what. I just couldn't handle it. I left to update the blog, square up some side-project work, and sleep so I can get back to focusing on spending time with dad and encouraging him through this tough time.

While visiting my dad, one of the lead doctors was able to visit with him and help answer some questions. I found out that I have an appointment Nov 12 at noon in Toronto to discuss transplanting my liver. We also found out that Toronto is having a hard time making room for my dad through a hospital-to-hospital transfer. The doctor then went on to layout a great plan to get my dad into the Toronto General ASAP... Operation: Front of the Line.

The goal is to get my dad well enough that he can leave the hospital for 5-10 hours. In that 5-10hrs, I will drive my dad to Toronto just to drop him off again in ER of the Toronto General. Once in the ER, Toronto General will have to except him as a patient - whether they like it or not.

So, for the next week, Chel and I will be waiting for that opportunity.

If there's a question mark at the end of it, I don't want to hear it.

First off - huge apologies for not posting in so long.

My dad is back in the hospital again... but this time he says its for good. He can feel it in his body. He doesn't think there's too much time left.

On Sept 19, my dad began to notice his feet were swelling which was a sign that water had begun to collect in his body again. He was also having a bit of trouble breathing. It eventually got the point where my dad was afraid to sleep because he was afraid he wouldn't wake up. That's when he asked Mom to take him to ER.

By the time he reached the ER, my dad got significantly worse. Previous visits to the hospital saw my dad relatively comfortable in a semi-private room on a mild amount of O2. They would only drain about 1.5 liters of fluid from his abdomen. This time, my dad was admitted to Acute Monitoring - a very public room with many monitors, lots of nurses, and lots of other patients moaning. My dad was completely lethargic - to the point where he couldn't feed himself. Instead of tapping his abdomen once for fluid, they inserted a permanent catheter attached to a bag which would constantly drain the fluid collecting in his body. They would drain 1.5 liters each day. One day, they accidentally drained over 3 liters of fluid!

Physically, my dad's condition is deteriorating. When I last visited, he admitted that he can't go home. Its that bad.

However, the fact that my dad is doing so bad actually has a silver lining. He has moved much higher on the priority list (4 in all of Ontario - which means there are 3 people who are closer to death than my dad is). Also - I've been confirmed as a compatible donor! There are still some physical and psychological tests that will confirm that I'm the donor. But they should be a breeze.

Despite all this positive news, my dad's spirits are at their lowest. I was sharing with a friend today how difficult it is to see my dad physically ill - but how much more difficult it is to hear your dad try to admit defeat. He's had it. No more tests. No more hospital food. No more nurses. No more smelly dying people in the bed beside him.

At my last visit - you could sense just how depressed he was. It was tangible. You could feel it almost as if it were a temperature. When a nurse came in to take my dad's blood, he started sobbing. Not crying - sobbing. Like a defenseless baby. It was so difficult to watch.

Why is it that our human nature finds it so hard to be positive and focus on truth in a difficult situation? The truth is that my dad's emotions have got the best of him.

~

Dad - of course your down! You've had a pretty crappy few weeks. But the truth is that God is in full control. He has never once left your side - never once said, "my child, you're a failure and I've forgotten about you".

On the contrary. God has been with you this entire time. He choose every nurse to watch over you. He's blessed each doctor whose monitored you. Furthermore, he's got a plan to heal you and see you live a wonderful life! This situation is so temporary! I'm a match! The Toronto Hospital is just about ready to accept you as an inpatient case! It's just a matter of weeks!

~

I said something to that affect when I last saw him and he LOVED it! People - if you visit my dad, you've got to speak truth and love into his life! He is an empty jar. He's spent his life filling everyone else's jar. He needs us more than ever!

Chelsea had a great idea. Tomorrow, we're going to drop of some picture frames and some photos of the family. Also, I'm going to write a letter of encouragement in big writing on the wall that repeats a lot of what I wrote above. We need to change the atmosphere from a somber, death row cell to a room brimming with life, love, faith, and hope!

Anyway - not much else to say. In summary, my dad is currently at the Civic Hospital, floor 5, room A535, bed on the right by the window. He's there until Toronto says, "come be our patient".

My mom is looking for an apartment in Toronto. If anyone has any thoughts or connections, please fire me an email (josh@jacie.ca).

Also - please keep my parents finances in prayer. They'll be needing money to cover living expenses and drug expenses in TO after the surgery.

As for Chelsea and I, we're so swamped. I work 8am-4pm, then we're at the hospital each night from 4pm-8pm, work some more from 9-11pm, then get up and do it all over again. Meanwhile, Chelsea is fielding questions, calls, emails about Dad, the Singing Christmas Tree, New Kids on the Block, weddings, blah blah blah. We're both reaching our limit but still trying very hard to put dad first. Chelsea summed up how I feel quite well when she said, "If your sentence has a question mark at the end of it, I don't want to hear it!" Epic. Its funny how a situation like this puts life into perspective. When your dad's dying, you suddenly don't care about spilled milk - no matter how much was spilled.

Thanks so much all of you for your thoughts and prayers! And to all those people who just randomly tune into this blog because you knew me from High School or music or know Chelsea, you're a legend!

Walk by the river

I have got to be the worst at keeping track of things. I have lost my keys TWICE in one week. And we're not talking kinda lost. We're talking 2-3 days of searching each time. The first time, my keys somehow made it into the laundry bin. The second time, I found them in my camcorder case in the nether-regions of my office. In both cases - I have no idea how they got there. It's so embarrassing! I feel so dumb.

It's even worse when your dying dad wants to go for a nice walk by the river and you can't find your keys! Frig! What an awesome opportunity to spend some quality time with dad - and I can't find my keys?!?! I called him back to let him know the situation to which he replied, "Ok - I'll look to see if I have any keys here and call you back." I was expecting a little jab from my dad about how I lost my keys twice in one week... but he hasn't been joking to much lately.

Long story short, I found my keys and my dad and I headed out for the Chapman Mills Conservation walk. Beautiful walk - one of the best in the city. There are points in the trail that you forget your in Ottawa. Feels like a cottage.

On the way, my dad told me about some new symptoms he's been experiencing lately - loss of balance and confusion.

He told me a story about how he was supposed to go to Winners and Zellers. My mom drove him as he doesn't feel comfortable driving anymore. He walked into one of the stores and asked himself, when did Winner's get so big? He shrugged it off and continued towards his desired department. Then suddenly he felt lost - like he couldn't find his way out. Then he thought to himself, the exit's would be where the windows are - so I'll just look for windows. My dad searched for the windows, found them, then the exit. The entire time, he was in Zellers, not Winners.

He told me a few other stories - all similar. While we were walking, it was obvious that my dad was having trouble keeping his balance. Every 30-40 steps, he would stumble - just a little - but consistently.

Things seem to be getting worse. And he's loosing more weight - if that's even possible.

I'd love to share more, but I'm leaving in 3min for Gaspe, QC for Labor Day weekend. Should be good - though I told my dad I was reluctant to go as I'm afraid something is going to happen if I leave. My papa (dad's dad) passed away while I was in Florida with my wife a few years ago. I kinda feel like that's my luck.

I loved our walk dad - and I'm sorry I didn't say all the things that were on my mind that day. But you know I love you. I haven't given up on you before - and I'm sure as hell not going to start now!

God - thanks so much for taking care of my dad through all this. Again, thank you that you're in control and that your plans are so much bigger than my own.

More bad days than good...

My dad's a joker - he loves kidding around. Sometimes it can be more annoying than funny. It's a very sarcastic humour. My mom knows it well - as does my wife who says I exude the same 'annoying' humour as my dad.

He's been asking me to help move some furniture. I grabbed a friend (thanks Gunner!) and headed off to see my dad and move some furniture.

When we arrived, the first thing I did was start bugging my dad about how he wasn't helping us move. "Come on dad! Grab the other side - we'll carry it together!" and "Dad - get off your butt! Help your son out!" I thought it was funny - that was until I approached him afterwards. He's gotten worse.

--

When your in a heavy situation like this, its so easy to live in disbelief. You may not think you're living in disbelief. But it sneaks its way in. For myself, I somehow think that next time I see him, he'll have gained more weight - that he'll be less pale and yellow. Then, I'll see him again - worse than before... then it's all happening again. Its like I'm seeing him for the first time.

If you haven't seen my dad lately, you may not understand the severity of his situation. I'll try to post some pictures in the coming days.

--

Straight up - I have no idea how my dad is still alive. He sounds so sick and weak every time I call. We last spoke yesterday. He said he has no energy and can barely walk.

My suspicion is that his chest is so full of fluid that its suffocating my dad. My biggest worry is that my dad is putting false hope in the doctors advise that he's fine at home. I don't understand why they've sent him home from the hospital. A - He needs to be supervised. B - He needs another chest-tap to remove ALL (not some) of the fluid around his lungs. Then my dad would at least have a fighting chance.

If that wasn't enough, he's mind has begun to play tricks on him. He admitted that he's been seeing a few things - hallucinations. Its a side-effect of the diuretics he's been prescribed to help managed his fluids.

I really don't want my dad to loose his mind. I can't think of anything more cruel...