September 06, 2006

Holding Our Breath

We are going to Kearney tomorrow. We missed Dads Zymeta infusion on Tuesday. We just plain thought it was scheduled for thursday. Dad needs to see the Dr. too. He hasn't had much improvement in his breathing since the last thorecentesis. His activity is very limited. He doesn't like to wear the oxygen except when he is sitting on the couch. He doesn't want to wear the portable at all.
We will take it tomorrow anyway.'
I don't know if the chemo damaged dad's heart...put him into heart failure, if the excess fluid around his lower extremities will remain, if he has fluid building up in his lungs again, if the cancer has spread, if if if if if . I listen to his lungs and I hear diminished sounds, rhonci, but I can't really tell if there is fluid in the pleural area. I just have the worst time assessing his lungs. I always have...even before he had cancer. I don't know what to do really.
I caught him smoking on the back step the other day. He says he has been. 1 or 2 maybe. I didn't know what to say really. I felt pissed and sad and yet I understood.
Nothing is enjoyable for him or for mom. He sits on the couch and "rests" all day. Watches a bit of TV, eats sparingly. He drives to town once in awile but he doesn't want anyone to see him gasping for breath so that has generally limited his errend running. He can't mow. He can barely get to the step without grabbing furniture because he's so short of breath.
Everything seems overwhelming and uncertain.

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