I found out yesterday morning that my Dad has been in
the hospital since last Monday. I called his house
today (he lives back in Virginia, where I'm from) and
talked to my step-mother. When I asked her if Dad was
around, she told me that he'd been diagnosed with
congestive heart failure. She said he'd been feeling
run down, and easily out of breath. He saw his doctor
on Monday, and the doctor ordered him into the
hospital.

I called Dad right away. He said that they had gone
down his throat with a scope of some kind and found
that the top two chambers of his heart weren't pumping
properly, that one was out of rhythm, and obviously,
with the congestive part of it, the heart muscle was
full of fluid. His lower legs were also swollen from
fluid, and had been for a while, but he said he had
thought that was just from weight gain.

They gave some kind of a charge to the chamber that
was pumping in the wrong rhythm and got it back going
right. They've got him on Lasix to get rid of the
fluid in his heart and legs. He says they've had him
in this long so they can monitor him. They don't want
to let him go until they think he's ready to go on to
Coumadin.

We talked at first about how he was doing, what was
being done for him. Then he seemed to want to chat
about the rest of the family. I just let him direct
the conversation. We talked for 55 minutes. Towards
the end he talked about his health some more. He said
that with the Coumadin there were dietary
restrictions. His diet is also restricted because of
Celiac disease. He joked "I don't know what I'm going
to eat now."

Apparenty, my Dad, like me, has regained a bunch of
weight in the last few years. He used to walk every
day, but then a couple of years ago, he developed a
bone spur in his heel. He started walking differently
to compensate, and that caused pain in his knees and
lower back, so he quit walking. He says the heel spur
went away, now he just has to get to a doctor to take
care of his knees.

I told him I wished I'd known sooner, but he said he'd
told my step-mother not to call me, or my step-brother
who lives in Florida, right away, because they knew he
was going to be okay, and there was nothing we could
do. I sort of understand his thinking, but I still
wish I'd known. I told him that I would call him
Monday or Tuesday at home. I told him I wished I could
be there. He said it was okay, that he knew I'd be
thinking of him. At least I know from him that he's
had plenty of visitors.

My Dad's name is Paul, if anyone wants to send a good
thought.

Laurie of the Isles
Laudon1228@...




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