Tuesday was different...

... than Monday. My dizziness/spins are suddenly gone! I took ibuprofen last night instead of Tylenol, and that seemed to kick it right out. The rest of today, I've been taking Aleve, and it's all been fine. How weird, eh? So that was better. But that was about it.

Tuesday started with my sister calling me at 5:45am to say the nurse from the hospital dad was in called to say his blood pressure was dropping and it wasn't looking good and she thought we should know. So my sister wanted to go down there and wanted me to go with her. So I did. Our other sister and her fiance came also.

Dad looked like he'd been run over by a truck, he was so covered with bruises everywhere. He'd been awfully bruised lately anyhow, but being in ICU, he was just in a gown, so we could see just how many he had on his legs as well as his arms. (He usually wore pants.) He was also on a ventilator. They had maxed out on his doses of Dopamine and another strong medication to increase his blood pressure (the name escapes me currently) and he was then stable, but barely. He opened his eyes briefly if the nurse hollered his name - as though he's been startled - then closes them again. Other than that, he doesn't respond to commands (ie: squeeze my finger if you can hear me), and doesn't seem to be alert at all.

We spoke with the doctor for awhile who basically said it's hour by hour. He could turn around, or he could die. There's no way to tell. We called other family members to make them aware of the situation. Actually, we just called one cousin we know to be a reliable and sane member of the family and she took care of letting her mom (dad's sister) and our grandma (dad's mom) know about it. Then she called back to let us know that she sort of hoped this would be a wake-up call to her mom (dad's sister) as SHE had taken to drinking A LOT in the past few months as well. (Do I have one fucked up family, or what?)

Then we took off for a bite for lunch, then went to dad's apartment to try and find the "important papers". His apartment was disgusting. Walking in the door, first you're hit with an *unclean* smell, flip on the light switch and right there is his dining room table, piled with papers and bills. Stuff on there dated back over a year ago. On top of all the papers though, was about 10 vodka bottles. Then into the living room where the couch had a patch of blood on it from one of his falls, two recliners - one seemed fine, the other smelled like urine, and a patch of dried vomit on the carpet. Between one end table and the one recliner were empty vodka bottles - probably about 15 of them. Next, into the kitchen where there was an unopened beer can on the counter, as the pull tab had broken off without opening the can, and next to the beer can was a can opener. The beer can had a few marks in it from where the can opener had been attempted unsuccessfully. There were a few empty paper bowls from Wendy's chili on the floor, and some Pop Tart wrappers. Some dishes were in the sink, and they looked like they'd been there forever. The cupboards were empty except for some dishes. The fridge was empty except for part of a sandwich. Next was the bedroom where my sister and brother-in-law had found dad. There were no sheets on the bed and most of the drawers were empty. There were pillows around - a couple on the bed, and others on the floor. There was one chair in the room and on it was a note dated 9/12 from the apartment manager saying that maintenence had tried to come in to fix his broken light, but they refused to do it until some trash was picked up. The manager left a notation at the bottom saying she took TEN BAGS of trash out of his apartment. There were empty vodka bottles everywhere in the bedroom - I would guess at least 50. Then into the bathroom where none of us wanted to set foot in - the counter had mold on it, the toilet seat had been broken off, and the toilet tank and bowl were black with mold.

We went through every drawer, cupboard, and box in the apartment trying to find the "important papers". Dad had always told my one sister that all the "important papers" were on top of the refrigerator. They weren't. We did pick up a few pieces of paper from the pile on the table - a note from the bank with the PIN number to his debit card, a notice from the apartment complex with the manager's name and phone number, and a letter from an investment person saying he'd like to go over his investments. Then we went out to his car so we could park it properly as it was diagnoal across two parking spots instead of parked straight in the stall. Inside his car and trunk were probably about 50 more empty vodka bottles.

So do you think my sister understands now? I think she does. I will say I'm pissed off as hell at the fuckup known as my dad for putting us all through this crap. He was just supposed to die in his recliner instead of making us all go through all this hospital stuff. Just his style though - always having to make it more difficult....

Fucker.