Eh

It was a UTI. Isn't there some irony in that? Or coincidence? Or something?

Dad is still feelin' kinda punked out but the fever is down and he said he's movin' around a little bit today. So hopefully some more rest and he'll be gettin' to gettin' better!

Yeesh!

Round the curve, blow a tire

It was supposed to be get home, feel energized, get better even faster....not get home, feel like you got hit by a truck, and then have to deal with being SICK again. Dad got some kind of infection though, and on his full first day home yesterday -- he has a 102 fever and the chills and crap that go along with that. Nasty. Docs think it's possibly a urinary tract infection, which can be common after major surgeries like his. So it's more samples, more doctors, more Cipro, more of everything that we're all entirely ready to be rid of!

This morning, he is feelin' a little better. Fever is down some and hopefully the Cipro is doing its Cipro thing.

Note to mapmakers: We'd really appreciate it if you'd note the potholes on our roadmap to gettin' better. That is all.

Home

After a long 10 hour ride in the car yesterday, Dad is home. He was really tired -- had some dinner and then crashed in his own bed.

Talked to him this morning and he mentioned that he was still extremely tired, probably from having to get up every 2 hours to drain. This will be necessary for the first week as he gets used to using the internal pouch. After that, it will be getting up every 3 hours for the next week...then 4...until it's just once during the middle of the night.

Over the next couple of days, he'll probably still be in serious recouperation mode...but at least he's going it in his own space, with his wife instead of a nurse, and Harley instead of a 'random therapy dog'.

We're all in the geographic places we're supposed to be right now...and that's a good feeling for a change!

...And All Is Right with the World

It's hard to believe that it's already 3:15, but I guess that when you have a busy day of appointments and meetings with various people in various places at the Cleveland Clinic, time just flies. Here's a re-cap: At roughly 10:15, Dad and I were sitting in the hotel room, constantly telling the maids knocking on the door that we weren't checking out until tomorrow, and watching the local news program that follows The Today Show. We didn't speak until we watched a segment in which two 45-55 year-old broads (with catcher's mitt faces) started to play (or at least tried) their version of Delta Blues (they were called the Delta Swamp Girls or something, and I don't recommend that you ever see them live...or via recording...in fact, just forget you ever heard their name). At that time we simply looked at each other with a "let's go" face and left for appointment #1.

We arrived at the Radiology department in the basement of the H building about a half-hour early. Nevertheless, Dad was quickly led away by a friendly nurse (I must say that there was very little waiting time once we arrived for any of our appointments...kudos to you and your punctuality, Cleveland Clinic) so that they could take some x-rays to see if his Indiana Pouch was a-okay...MISSION: Accomplished. From there it was up to the International Cafe for a spot of lunch and then to appointment #2, where the surgery staples were finally removed, and the now legendary Dr. Fergany came by to make sure everything was tip-top...MISSION: Accomplished. Finally, we went in for the last appointment of the day and were reunited with The Stomettes (that's our name for the Stoma nurses who attended to Dad; with their matching outfits and their almost choreographed in-sync movements, it's like they're some kind of 60's girl-group) who instructed Dad on how to use and care for his Indiana Pouch...MISSION: Accomplished.

We're now back at the hotel and Dad's getting some rest. He had a big day today and it looks like that his tenure at the Cleveland Clinic is done (of course he'll likely come back here for a routine check up in about 6 months, but compared to the current stay he's had, that oughtta be a walk in the park). In a while he'll wake up and probably start to pack some of his things. Later on tonight, his baby brother Tommy will arrive and I'll head back to Chicago. Tomorrow morning, it's likely that Dad and Tommy will wake up early, bid a fond farewell to the Cleveland Clinic and start the drive back to South Carolina. I'd say that around 6:00 or 7:00 PM, Dad will be home and back with Mom as this Cleveland-centric chapter of our family's story comes to a close...and all will be right with the world.

-DG-

Boozin' It Up

Dad and Darin split a bottle of wine tonight at dinner. I heard there may have also been a mojito consumed. Lindsay Lohan would be proud.

Drinking is a good thing. Alcohol and chemo don't mix. And because I am a scientist (my college told me so), I can deduce through reasoning that there will be no chemo for Dad. That, and he told me that's what the doctor told him.

So tomorrow, it's the switchover to the surgically-created Indiana Pouch, which means sheddin' the 'clear purse'.

And Wednesday, a cancer-free drive home with Uncle Tom to Greenville.

Cheers (clink).

Drive

The roads here in Cleveland are pathetic. Seriously bad. This is coming from someone who rode in the backseat of a Buick LeSabre station wagon in the mid 80s on Detroit's I-275 (much of which could barely pass for 'paved'), learned that much of Oklahoma STILL barely passes for paved once outside of the cities, and currently navigates the streets of Boston -- convinced that my car could sink right down into a spontaneously created section of the harbor at any moment.

Yet they've been perfect to navigate for the last couple of days as Dad and I have attempted to get out of the hospital/hotel/campus environment and wander aimlessly. Funny thing is, this could have been any weekend day 20 years ago. I remember countless times, Dad saying 'let's go for a drive', which meant we had a roundtrip ticket to nowhere in particular. I remember one said drive during the excruciatingly hot drought-summer of 1988 in Illinois, where we drove out to Dixon (boyhood home of Ronald Reagan), sat on a bench in some state park that should have been lush and green but was roasted into a yellowy-brown earthen, and ate a lunch from a cooler that he had packed earlier. There were probably a billion other places I wanted to be as a 14 year old. I like that I have that scorching hot day burned into my brain instead.

Friday, we took a drive to nowhere in particular...through Shaker Heights for a some lunch; down through Southeast Cleveland's suburbs to get the car washed; through a hilly area down by the river where we saw one of Dad's favorite cars he owned - a '67 Pontiac Grand Prix convertible; then back through one of the most blighted areas in Cleveland's east side, up 93rd street. Yesterday, we took another aimless wander over to the West side of Cleveland on the shores of Lake Erie, through areas called Rocky River and Lakewood. I chose that area to wander in because I like architecture -- and this place seriously looked like a bunch of architects did some quality drugs and then started building. So many styles -- from New England Farmhouse to Spanish California -- we both really enjoyed it.

We stopped off for lunch at a place called Bearsden's, a staple since 1948. I had a peanut butter burger...only because it was on the menu, begging to be tried. It was...interesting, to say the least. And after a couple of days of driving around away from hospitals and the same surroundings we've known for the month of August -- it tasted like normal.