When Dad landed in his room last night, he was hooked up to twenty-eleven hoses coming out of & going into places Dad didn't know existed. Thank God his nurse was down to earth & able to throw back whatever he threw at her. He told her I was torturing him, wouldn't let him drink water, refused to give him ice chips...She carried on with him & was funny along with him.
Oddly enough, when he was brought to his room post-op, he was offered ice chips. As hours passed, they brought him a small cup of water to given sparingly. Somewhere between sparingly & 3am, I unwittingly gave him drinks as his first nurse told me to & twice his tubing overflowed courtesy of his eldest daughter.
Throughout the night, he has been in pain with little to no rest as differing machines sounded off through the dark of night, telling his nurses when he pulled a tube loose by movement or wasn't breathing deeply enough.
Dad has gradually become more mobile-with or without the nurses' permission. He tried to talk the nurses into going ahead and letting him walk a little to which they all emphatically thwarted his attempts at freedom. He charmed his way into lemon sponge sabs to moisten his mouth a moment ago, making me laugh as he told his nurse completely straightfaced that anything had to be better than plain sponge sabs.
Meanwhile back in the jungle, the skies are grey & rain gently falls as Dad & I watch ESPN & he tells me again not to text and drive. In the in-between, we both get still and almost...catch that ever elusive three second nap.
God love us everyone. :)
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