When will it end?

1461 Days.

Roughly

35064 hours
2103840 minutes
126230400 seconds

since the war began.

When will it end?

Days of Protests

Happy Birthday Dad

Dad finally made it home on Wednesday, March 7. The IV pump should be finished today and he goes back for more testing to make sure the staph is gone.

Fingers crossed.

The catheter remains in place and there is still an alarming amount of blood in his urine - mostly due to the blood thinners he's on. He's back to the urologist tomorrow.

Gretchen's ankle is finally coming back together but she's got another month in the hard cast and then a couple of weeks in a soft cast or brace before physical therapy starts.

I'm tired. I've been listening to a lot of Leonard Cohen in the car over the past couple of weeks. Serendipiously, Elsa has been talking about him recently. Gretchen thinks he's depressing, but then she likes listening to Country and Western, so what does she know? :) Anyway, I've found his stuff oddly soothing for the past couple of weeks.

Unusual Sunday Blogging

Dad may, or may not, be released from prison on Monday. The idiots at Norwalk hospital haven't decided yet. He's responding well to the meds but he's still going to need two to four weeks of IV antibiotics to combat the staph infection. He's opted to go home and not a rehab or nursing facility. I'm not thrilled but it's his (and Mom's) decision to make. There's still no decision on when he'll be able to have the other artery "scraped". The longer they wait the worse the plaque build up, but he's in no condition to have operation for at least a month. Thank you Norwalk Hospital.

The plate my sister had surgically implanted in her ankle, to draw the fibula (tibia? whatever bone opposite the ankle) to the ankle and to secure the tendon was less than successful. The ankle is still disconnected. The doctor is "hoping" that over the next week the plate and screws will do their work and bring the ankle back into place. If not, they have to re-operate.

I've come to the conclusion that the entire medical profession in the United States is comprised of fuckwits. Brainless, heartless, fuckwits.

Mom and I are moving my sister down to Westport today. Centralizing the walking, and non-walking, wounded is essential. We just can't keep up with both of them being in two places 20 miles apart.

~ ~ ~

Clouds marred my viewing of the eclipse last night. I hope you had a better view.

Life's but a walking shadow

Staphylococcus

That's what Dad has picked up during his stay at Norwalk Hospital. I found out last night when I went to see him.

I hate these people. I want to carpet bomb the whole goddamn facility. I want to ship these bastards off to Gitmo. After I torture them.

The array of tests he was in the hospital for show that there is a 70 percent blockage of his left carotid artery and he was supposed to go back to Yale for a consultation today and surgery next week. Only now he can't because he's stuck in Norwalk for another week and then two to four weeks of recovery either in a nursing home (he's 68 on March 12) or at home because he'll need antibiotics delivered via IV for that long. This staph infection is in his left arm and has entered his blood stream. They're relatively certain it hasn't entered his heart.

Eight years ago on the 27th of this month I lost my Mother. It was a blessing for her, when she died. She suffered so long. I'm not ready for this, the reality of he might not survive all that's going on in his body.

I'm just not ready for this but I don't have any choice. I just have to suck it up and deal.

She should have died hereafter;
There would have been a time for such a word.
To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow,
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day
To the last syllable of recorded time,
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!
Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage
And then is heard no more: it is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing.