Last week I got a call from my sister. Have you talked to Mom and Dad lately? No, I hadn't. You had better call them, I just hung up and Dad has a blood clot and it's the size of a small child and he can't walk and there's a risk of stroke and why don't they ever call us and tell us these things, why do we have to call them before we hear anything.
So I called. He's had this happen before - blot clots in a vein, backing up from his groin to his knee. He told me it had happened in 1961, when he was 19, and again in 1972. I remembered - I was 4 - he had the vein removed from his leg and was laid up for a little bit. They have him on blood thinners, and he's not to walk around or move much so it doesn't dislodge, they want the blockage to dissolve.
My father had triple bypass in October '07. And in the past 10 months his older sister and older brother have died. He's had a rough time of it lately.
I talked to them most recently a couple of days ago, and I should call them today. My mom cheerfully reported, 'well, everyone I know who has a blood clot is in the hospital, but not your dad! The doctors hope this will work, but his leg is swollen and he's in a lot of pain.' I talked to my dad, and yeah. I've never really heard him sound like that. In a lot of pain is, I think, an understatement. He was scheduled to visit the doctor on Thursday, but they were going to call and try to get in earlier. I really should call them today, but the huge denial part of my brain wants to just wait til they call me.
I've not surprisingly been unsettled all this week. The conversation with him was awful - I could hear how much pain he was in. I feel helpless. And there isn't anything I can do. Just waiting. And hoping. And praying, too.
1 day ago