Create successful ePaper yourself
Turn your PDF publications into a flip-book with our unique Google optimized e-Paper software.
142<br />
Mom is in there <strong>with</strong> dad. I'm in waiting room due to "one visitor at a time policy".<br />
He's confirmed to be in atrial fibrillation. He is already on amioderone, which is the drug<br />
that previously fixed it, so I assume they're going to up the dose or use something in<br />
addition.<br />
They hear a wheezy noise they don't like in his lungs. They are taking him in for a chest<br />
x-ray. Obvious candidate is pneumonia (fits <strong>with</strong> <strong>with</strong> low blood oxygenation level), but<br />
given the cancer impinging on the bronchi, who knows. Mom thinks (hopes?) they'll let<br />
me in after the x-ray. I think dad is more comfortable having his wife <strong>with</strong> him, so I<br />
encouraged her to stay by her side and that I'd be fine patiently waiting in the waiting<br />
room. I didn't tell her about the very loud annoying woman eating something on the order<br />
of 40 pounds of Fritos who is sitting next to me, but she doesn't need to know everything.<br />
<strong>My</strong> guess is that they'll admit him at least overnight, if for no other reason than defensive<br />
medicine to avoid a lawsuit if they release him and he has a fatal heart attack. But no<br />
decision has yet been announced on admission.<br />
I think it is a bad sign that I've gotten good at this. I have my laptop, my TOR browser (to<br />
get around the hospital filters), my iPad <strong>with</strong> hotspot (in case Tor fails) and my iPhone<br />
<strong>with</strong> megacharger. I also have meal replacement drinks <strong>with</strong> me.<br />
I should create a macro for the term "this sucks", since I'm writing it a lot. This sucks.<br />
More when there is more to share. **<br />
Mom came out a few minutes later and said dad was still ok and cogent, but they hear<br />
something they don't like in his lungs and he's going for a chest x-ray. She wanted to<br />
know if I wanted a turn in there. I said no, you're his wife and I know he wants nobody<br />
more at his side right now. She just nodded and headed back in. In a different world, my<br />
mom would have been a lawyer, because <strong>with</strong>in a few minutes she appeared in the<br />
waiting room <strong>with</strong> a second badge, saying something about how she insisted that the<br />
doctor issue one for me. And <strong>with</strong> that, we were both able to get back to the ER back<br />
area.<br />
We had some time waiting for x-ray and dad called me over. he said something to the<br />
effect of "If I don't make it today, I want you to make sure to update my blog <strong>with</strong> what<br />
happened." Until that point, I thought the blog was partially cathartic for him, and partially<br />
an effort to help others battle not just MCC, but the weird, scary, unexpected things that<br />
accompany it. When facing his own death and knowing that he wouldn't get to enjoy the<br />
catharsis of writing about it, I learned that (at least by the end) he was providing his fellow<br />
travelers down the "life <strong>with</strong> MCC" path <strong>with</strong> the kindness and protection of the type he<br />
had spent 50 years providing his family (68 if you count protecting his siblings). I<br />
promised him I would keep the group updated.<br />
Dad was, by now, switching between being very aware and closing his eyes. During the<br />
first eye close following that discussion, I quickly updated the blog <strong>with</strong> the current<br />
situation and sent an email:<br />
** Email Date: Wed, 18 Apr 2012 10:59:01 -0700<br />
<strong>My</strong> <strong>Battle</strong> <strong>with</strong> <strong>Merkel</strong> <strong>Cell</strong> <strong>Cancer</strong>
Change language