Chapter Nine: Watching Grass Grow

Tuesday, January 20

Mom and I arrived in 1009 to see Dad again sitting in the chair, feet pillowed and resting on another chair. He had hustled ten laps earlier and made two grateful bathroom trips.

Lunch came. Dad was already tiring of the liquid diet.

David Liang, the surgical intern, came and discussed Dad's case with him. IF--and all was conditional--Dad could manage pain without the epidural, lose the Foley catheter, get rid of his abdominal distension, have regular bowel movements, and convert--gradually--to a soft food diet, he would be dismissed Thursday. Everything would have to happen pretty quickly, considering where he was today.

Mom and I learned, after trying to reserve our room for longer, that we would have to change rooms, and then we would not be guaranteed a room after the first extra night (Wednesday). Emory Inn was sold out through the weekend.

I called University Inn, at the other end of Emory's campus, and we reserved two rooms Thursday through Saturday. Guess Thursday is Moving Day!

Dad's epidural meds were increased in a gradual distribution, with the option of a bolus--a sharp, one-time increase. His pain was bothering him, causing him to be irritable. His spirits, unlike yesterday, seemed low.

We watched various parts of the Inauguration and accompanying festivities on Fox News throughout the day, with some lively commentary from Mom and Dad.

After his liquid lunch, I followed Dad on fourteen laps. He was cheered on by Elaine, Laura, Jean, Margaret, and all the other techs and nurses on his floor. Elaine said, "You're looking marvelous, Dr. Hixson."

Druing his walk, I noticed the fluit in the catheter had turned pinkish-red. We reported this to Jean, his nurse for the early part of the day. She sent Laura, who was taking over. Laura joked, when my dad suggested talking with the surgical intern David, "I might not have thought of that myself."

Laura returned. My dad had a choice--go ahead and cap the epidural, give him two Percoset, and wait three hours to see how he would do, or follow the orders currently in place: cap the epidural tomorrow at 6:00 a.m. Either way, three hours after the capping, if he was managing pain acceptably, the catheter could be removed. At this point Laura doubted there was any infection from the catheter--only some trauma and irritation. She was probably right, as the bleeding seemed to stop after his brisk walk.

Dad asked if she could order him a Dulcolax for later to stimulate the colon.

Laura said, "Why do you want dynamite to 'do the job?' It's gonna happen on its own."

He said, "I'm a little impatient."

I laughed. "As if she couldn't tell."

"You remind me so much of my dad, " said Laura with a laugh. "I don't know whether I should kiss you or what! Just give it time."

Later, Gary came to visit, and a few minutes after, Sherry brought in Laney and her friend Liz for a brief stop. Gary stayed after they left, and he had a long talk with Mom when I took Dad for his next walk--after the suppository he'd wanted.

Dad went straight to the bathroom from his laps. Gary was willing to help so Mom and I could leave for our dinner reservations at the hotel. Sherry, he assured us, would bring him carryout home so he could rest.

Mom and I had a pleasant dinner at the quiet Le Giverny and retired for the evening.