Shingles, be gone!

by Bella Rum

We’re still here. It’s been a rough ride. Yesterday, Dad finally ate a few fried apples for lunch. Last night, he ate some butter beans and a bottle of Ensure. When I told him he could get sick enough to return to the hospital if he became dehydrated, he started sipping his liquids. I felt better after that.

Dad usually hallucinates and becomes very sarcastic when he takes narcotics. We’ve seen a little of that but not as much as in the past. He sleeps most of the time.

One of his caregivers is a nurse. She will stay with him tonight so we can go home and get a few things: meds, underwear, my pillows. Can you believe I forgot my pillows? I keep my suitcase packed and just toss in whatever I need, but we left in such a rush. I also thought the hospital would keep him overnight and we would return home. Never assume.

There’s usually some humor in the worst of situations. I always look for it, wait for it. There has been not a shred of funny yet, but I’m still looking. Maybe shingles don’t do humor. Damn.

That’s where things are now. Dad is fairly pain-free but he isn’t good. He is in deep sleep most of the time, and I know the pain would be horrible if he didn’t have the meds and lots of them. What are we thankful for today, boys and girls? Narcotics!

 

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