Thursday, September 20, 2007
Yesterday dad had a procedure at the dental hospital. He is in the process of getting dentures so they removed the rest of his top teeth (2). Being the independant creature he is, he went in by public transport but I was on stand-by in case he needed me to pick him up. Last time he had work done he had gone into shock from the pain of the injection, which caused him to have breathing problems (he has Chronic Obstructive Pulmonary Disease) - they called a code blue and of course called me urgently. On that occasion I went and picked him up, took him to his GP and then took him to mum's to be cared for for the next 24 hours. That was just 2 weeks before mum died (ironically I got the phone call in the same part of the week/day as I got the call about mum - during Tuesday morning staff time). So yesterday, I was on stand-by and got a message saying that they wouldn't let him go home alone because of the anesthetic. So I got into the car and drove in to the hospital. He was sitting waiting. We started walking to the car and he had blood running down his face; obviously we went back. Most people were at lunch but they found someone to look at him, who placed some stuff in to help the bleeding stop. We went to the car again; dad looked shocking, mixture of just how he is in general (not well), grief, pain and just sick of it all. I brought dad back to my place for a while and then took him home (he purchased a unit a couple of suburbs away from me a few years ago for these exact reasons). As we were driving from the hospital to my place, it hit me afresh - essentially I am the only person dad has. The weight of that hit me in a way it never has before. I acknowledged it and then moved away from it - conscious that it was important not to go there right then. But went back to it last night. While 3 months ago I dealt with the acute stuff and then sropped him at mum's to do the recovery - there is no one else now.