Brief Break in Silence

27 September 2006
Honolulu

What can I say? When Dad didn't answer his nightly call, nor his morning doublecheck, I summoned the troops, who rallied oh, so beautifully. They forged on in, despite the lack of answer or any sighting of Dad... till a hand was spotted, Carrie-like, protruding from beneath a pile of tumbled rubble. A quick 911 call later, the short street was choked with emergency vehicles, all for a frail little Yoda-like figure who would not appreciate such a fuss being made over him.

Twelve hours later, miracle of miracles, I was by his side, having caught a light flight across the Pacific. The friend who had gone so bravely (fearfully?) in and sat by Dad's side all day, took the time to pick me up from the airport as well, before returning home to family, grading papers, and an all too short night's sleep before facing students once again. It is fortunate that God metes out mercy as well as justice.

So Dad was on the cardiac ward for three days, hooked up to a glucose solution instead of a saline solution because it's easier to counteract excess sugar than excess salt in a system genetically vulnerable to diabetes. So they say. In any event, his recovery has been in his customarily speedy style, despite his overall general slowness. The final verdict is that he has suffered extensive muscle damage from extreme dehydration, including a minor heart attack and evidently some damage to his memory, which was already under attack from age...

Two more days of charming nurses on a general population ward were followed by ten days at the highly touted, extremely aggressive Rehabilitation Center of the Pacific. Once again he seemed to charm the nurses and aides, much to my amusement and chagrin.

Finally came the day of the Great Breakout. Told to use a walker, he's been insisting on relying on his cane, for the comfort of familiarity, I think. He's currently undergoing a month of outpatient therapy, only agreed to after I promised to stay while he was being so treated. Like the proverbial horse led to water, he promptly blanks out all lessons, so his primary benefit seems to be from his physical therapist, who actually manipulates his muscles and makes him work, as opposed to the others, who just talk at him, and with me. I wonder if I shouldn't absent myself so that they have to deal with him directly. In a recent session wherein I could see him blocking out the white noise, I asked the therapist to have him articulare what he had gotten from the day's session - that was an eye-opener for her! Ah well... hopefully our next visit will be more productive.

On a personal note, I think I'm going quietly crazy. My greatest fear is that I could settle for this life, only to find that I had run out of time for life in the end. Ah, bite me.