Human Constructs

 It has been a year...

A year since Kacy had her augmentation and a year to the day when I called my Dad to check in, just a couple of days after Kacy's surgery to tell him that all went okay.  It was a year ago, I came in from mowing and sat down and called my Dad and heard hospital beeping noises in the background and found out that he was in the hospital.  

That's was last year.  It has been 365 days and everything that has been going on with my Dad, the casita, Kacy, myself, our family - it has been a year.  I look back and to me it's not the individual days that define a year, it's the events. Last year my Dad was in the hospital and I didn't think he was going to make it to his birthday, let alone Thanksgiving.  I have marked the passage of time by saying over and over "Okay, my Dad made it to Thanksgiving.  Now, we've got to get to Christmas."  Then Christmas comes and I'm saying that we need to make it to New Year.  Then, Valentine's day... Holidays, no matter how mundane, have been giving me milestones to pass.  We've made it a full 365 days.  Despite the massive upheaval it caused for me and my family, I'm happy to be here.  I'm very happy that my Dad is still here.  He's still not doing the best, but we're moving forward and concentrating on the important stuff - our family.  

I'm currently planning a small get together for my Dad's birthday.  We never know how many birthdays we will get and in my Dad's case, I want to try and make the best of the ones we have left.  Yesterday was his follow-up with the cardiologist to check his progress after the stents were put in.  This was the big 3 month check up.  This was the appointment where we would find out whether he's stabilized or getting worse.  The doctor, of course, had mentioned "getting better."  Congestive heart failure, as far as I am aware, cannot be cured and my Dad will ultimately meet his end because of it.  I went into the appointment knowing that was the case.  My Dad, who I am beginning to suspect is more of an optimist than I am (I know, hard to believe!), went into the appointment thinking that they were going to tell him he was on the mend.  I knew that wouldn't be the case, but I'm not about to fart on his rainbow.  When the doctor came in, sat down and opened up the results of my Dad's ultrasound I wasn't surprised.  

When my Dad underwent the stent procedure he had a roughly 25% ejection rate.  This was back at the end of April.  Now, at the end of August he is somewhere between 20%-25%.  Last year in August when we were at the hospital, the doctors were saying that he was at 30%.  Of course, I rabbit holed because I was doing nothing but spending my days sitting in a hospital while my Dad slept, recovering, and suffering from horrible edema- he had so much fluid coming out of various parts of his skin like some horror movie.  In a years time he has lost roughly a third of his heart function.  And yet, right now he's doing good.  I will absolutely celebrate that. 

Yesterday, he got his cooktop for the casita from Amazon.  We went to walmart and bought a small skillet and a pot so he can make himself hot oats, eggs, bacon, whatever he wants.  He was so tickled and happy about being able to make a fried baloney sandwich yesterday afternoon.  It made me happy.  

I also love the fact that he's so happy with the way the patio between the casita and the main house turned out.  We still have to get our lights up and decorate, move patio furniture around and such, but it's so nice and with the cage finished, everything is cohesive.  There are still a few minor things to get done, mainly landscaping.  We've run into a minor problem with some water drainage but Kacy already has everything lined up and we are just awaiting the delivery of some drainage rock in order to start trenching and helping the water be washed away from our house rather than it sitting and pooling between the two buildings.  I also love the fact that my Dad has been having fun.  He's been tooling around on his tractor for the past week (despite having a hernia!) and the few times I've seen him discing up the back field, removing ruts left by the concrete truck or just bush-hogging the back field, he has had this big grin on his face that I haven't seen in quite a while.  That makes me smile, too.  

Do I get nervous with him driving?  Yes.  But I can't stop him.  I think I've turned that corner.  I can't tell him to stop doing what he's doing because it makes me scared when I am at the same time telling him that he needs to do whatever he wants to do because why not?  In this instance, I can't have my cake and eat it too.  My therapist and I continue talking about how if I can't control something, I have to let it go and move on.  My brain still does not work that way and I deal with a lot of anxiety because of it.  But I don't know... I think I finally feel like I've hit a turning point there?   Like I know what the outcome is going to be and there's nothing I can do to change it, so why not just enjoy the ride?  My little autistic adhd brain does not like being told what it can and cannot do, let alone what it should and should not do.  The only thing I can do is ignore the situation.  I'm trying to be an adult and process as I go along, but I think my brain just doesn't work that way.  Eventually, I will learn to accept that just as I have accepted that eventually my Dad is not going to be here anymore.  While he is here, though, I'm going to enjoy the time I have with him.   Time is the one gift that I won't ever want to give back and will always want more of.  

So, here we go.  Next milestone: my Dad's 83rd birthday. Then, we make it to Thanksgiving.  Then comes Christmas.  New Years.  Valentines Day.... We keep going.