I posted the previous blog about the genetic possibilities of PD because I believe I have inherited it from my father. After a lot of planning, we were able to bring Grandpa to Utah to attend Tigger's High School Graduation. It was a lot of work to keep up on his medications and constantly be aware of what food he has eaten during the day.
When I arrived at the Care Center, Grandpa was sitting at the breakfast table awaiting his oatmeal. He was dressed and had a bib around his neck. I was surprised he allowed a bib to be placed, but he really does need it.
While he ate breakfast, I met with the nurse regarding his medications and checked them into my possession, I also met with the dietician regarding how to count the carbs and adjust his insulin levels. After that, I met with the respiratory therapist who showed me how to operate the various machines that were going to provide oxygen and treatment for Grandpa. The final item was to learn how to give insulin shots. To the nurses, it is nothing at all, but to someone who has never done an injection it was very concerning. I was shown how, though and when the time came for the first injection; I just did it. Because there was no alternative.
The vehicle was completely packed by the time Grandpa was finished with his breakfast. We just needed to toss in a few changes of clothing, his toothbrush and bathing items and then we could go. While we were trying to decide whether the electric toothbrush belonged to Grandpa or his roomate, Grandpa announced that we needed to get out and give him some privacy. So we did.
I went to get a drink of water at the nurses' station and then returned to Grandpa's room, but the bathroom door was still closed. So I walked past his room to some chairs that are right outside of his room. Before I could sit down, I heard his roommate ask him if he was alright and dad just grunted at him. I came back to his room and he was sitting in his recliner with his pants removed.
He told me I would need to clean up the bathroom and get him some clean clothes before we could go. When I opened the door to the bathroom and saw the mess, (I immediately recalled the rolling panic I experienced several weeks ago on my way to work and how I had to clean the bathroom up after makimg my own mess) I turned around and told him I would go get a nurse to help.
He had made a pretty good mess and the nurse insisted that she would clean him although he was trying to help her. Once the toilet was cleaned up, Grandpa returned to the throne for more activity. Ultimately, the nurse placed an adult 'pull-up' on him and explained it would just be for the ride to protect his clothing; just in case.
We got Grandpa dressed once again and we were heading to the elevator when Grandpa stalled a bit and then sat on his walker. He said he needed some tylenol or aspirin. I asked if he had a headache and he said, "yea, a splitting one."
I touched his hand and he was clammy. I wiped some sweat off of his brow and asked him if he was sure he wanted to make this trip. He said, "Yes! I want to go!" So I went to see if I could get some tylenol. Nurse wouldn't give him any because he had some just a couple hours before. But she gave me some and told me what time he could have some. This seemed to appease Grandpa. In fact he never asked for the tylenol in the vehicle after that. The nurse told me he was just nervous. To which I replied, "I understand this completely. Perhaps I will just slip him a Xanax as soon as we are out of your sight!" She gave me a serious stare down. I guess she did not find that suggestion too pleasing...
Grandpa actually did great during the travel. He was pretty quiet though and not much conversation took place. I was aware of different areas of the trip which caused him anxiety. Mostly the canyons like Wind River Canyon and South Pass. He doesn't like the road between Thermopolis and Meteetsee either. And he verbalized his own anxiety about the tunnel between Green River and Rock Springs.
I survived his visit well, until I accidentally popped a balloon on the ceiling and sent my heart into overload. I went to lay down after that. After taking Grandpa home, I thought I was doing pretty well until the OSM one clapped his hands while describing something to Mr. Nike. Then I realized I was really on an edge. I slept all day on Sunday and on Monday focused on myself. Now I am at work and so far, I am a SURVIVOR!
Game Time: 3 hours
Score: Karen 1, Genetic Composition 0
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