I am updating this for my own purposes really.
Thursday -we came home to see Dad today as my sister and Mum said he was getting very low. I rang Mr Carr the consultant and managed to speak with his PA who was very helpful. She put us in touch with the Clinical Nurse Specialist who came to see Dad on the ward to reassure him that actually he is doing well. This seemed to help. Dad held my hand after she left and said, 'Elaine….do you think I am going to get out of this corner?' I said 'yes Dad you are.' Later on Dad talked about wanting to go to the Isle of Wight and taking the girls (my youngest daughter and my neice -Mum and dad take them away every year in summer for a week) with him and Mum. It was so lovely to hear him feeling more postive. Steve my husband talked about how lovelythe weather is at the moment and how he bet that Dad would love nothing more than to be sitting in the garden with us. That helped too I think.
Friday – we went to see Dad in the afternoon. He had more colour in his cheeks and was even more lucid than he was on the Thursday. He had had a wash and a walk down the corridor. Whilst Steve and my eldest daughter was chatting to him, I spoke to the very pregnant fair-haired and pony-tailed ward sister. She said that Dad's blood levels were low -just below the 8 -and that he was to have a transfusion later that day. They had ordered the blood for him. She also said that Miss Hegarty the consultant had seen Dad that morning and had told him that if he didn't open his bowels they would have to take him back to theatre. The sister said she wished Hegarty hadn't said that as Dad's spirit had plummeted since. She reassured me that the trip to theatre was not imminent and that they were determined to help him open his bowels before the three days were over. She said that he would be sick of them by the time the Easter weekend was up, as he would be doing losts of walks to get his bowels moving. He had had a walk already that day -another was planned before dinner time and another just before bedtime. She told me that Dad had felt sick after his morning walk.
I went back to Dad who informed me that he hadn't felt sick, he had been sick -violently sick in fact. That annoyed me a bit -why didn't the sister tell me that? I asked Dad if he had farted but no, he hasn't. Good news is they have taken him off his morphine and oxygen as he no longer needs them. He is still on 'nil by mouth' and is fed intravenously through the neck. He is desperate for a drink of course. We are on day 11 – 11 days without food and four days since he was allowed anything to drink. His lips are dry and peeling and we kept helping him bathe them with a small blue sponge dipped in water. He said that felt heavenly. However -his anti biotics seem to be working as the wound is now red but not seeping and his chest seems to be clear. So some good news. He was lucid and chatty and when we left him this afternoon, we all felt positive and believe that Dad will come through this.
Tonight my Mum and sister went to see Dad. My sister was upset by the transfusion. She said Dad's face drained of colour and he felt sick again. The doctor came by and was concerned about Dad's hydration levels -he has insisted that he has another saline drip set up once the transfusion is completed. They took Dad for a walk- led by the pregnant ward sister. Carolyn my sister was cross because the ward sister walked too quickly and Dad called out about his neck hurting. My sister told her to slow down -when the sister said Dad's drip wires were gettig tangled, Carolyn was having none of it; 'no….you are walking too quickly for him. Slow down.' We are both concerned that they are being a little impatient with him. I will mention it tomorrow when I go in. We are not bloody having her do that.My sister was low tonight. She is not feeling very positive – said she was scared by the blood transfusion and concerned that his bowels would not open in time. Both of us feel he can't go through another operation. They have given him supposotries (can't spell that word!) though so tomorrow morning when we call the hosptial we hope to hear that there has been movement. Steve thinks we should have a 'poo party' to celebrate when he does go.
I do feel hopeful. But he is tired. Very tired. I just hope and pray -and my goodness I have done lots of praying to the universe – that he gets through this. There are so many precious moments left to share with him. We can't lose him. Not yet.