Wow. All over Wow.

Wow. From that last entry till now; wow.

From that point, Dad lived in the hospital. The director of the ETU stated that if he went home, he'd die; that they didn't get sicker than him, it was going to be a hard week, and that he was at the top of the Victorian Donor register.

He stayed in hospital having twice daily blood tests to test for ammonia & potassium levels. The potassium levels basically just tell us how well the kidneys are functioning.

He was pretty stable until Friday when the potassium levels reached dangerous levels - implying that the kidney was about to shut down. So, back into ICU we went; but this time, it was only for 24 hours. Which was a massive improvement to us managing at home. So, it was a real eye opener having him living in hospital - it was literally saving his life.

Last week was also Organ Donor week. We met a guy who had been through all this, lived in hospital like Dad for five months before receiving a liver. It was really reassuring for all of us to know it was all normal. That he wasn't the only liver patient to be almost dying. We got a great deal from this man and I will be indebted to those like him forever.

Dad picked up again and ended up a bit over 'stable'. He was almost 'well'. He got a bee in his bonnet about redeveloping an old house he owns; to the point where he was calling builders from hospital. The lovliest bloke I will never meet called to ask if he was Ok and is now going to humour my father by telling him he is going to help build his house.

It's like he was going 'oh, well I have a house to build, I can't possibly die whilst I have a house to build' and I really didn't want to burst this bubble for him. I'd already organised for one of G's friends to be a 'builder' calling him back; M was happy to take his calls and entertain him. Which was a beautiful thought from a friend - I just never expected it from the builder himself!!

This brings us pretty much to today.

He was tapped last night and didn't have a very good day today. He was scheduled for another gastroscopy this morning, but they cancelled because he wasn't well enough. He got moved into a shared room with 3 other VRE carrying patients. He was stoked. Then, nurse ratchet took away his water; her thoughts were that custard counted as a liquid and, because of that, decided he'd had enough water; even though both the ETU & his dietician said he should NOT count custard/yoghurt/full cream milk as his liquid, because he needed to gain weight. So, he was rapt with life.

At 9.25pm tonight my phone rang once and stopped. I am waiting for THE call, so I pretty much jump on it. It calls again; I snatch it up 'hello' - I get some muffling and then hung up. 'Oh fuck, he's dead and mum is a mess' comes to mind. Third time, it's mum. She's a little flustered and teary but she tells me;

'He has a liver'

I spin. Honestly, my stomach dropped and I had to run for the loo where I lost dinner. I burst into tears and I could not think straight. G gave me a kiss, told me to drive safetly and I went to mums.

We all get to hospital; we get a run down of where we go from here. As I sit here, half the team are harvesting (I know, it's an awful way of saying it!!) organs; they will prep Dad even though they don't know for sure they can even use the liver. 'It looks good' is all the information we get at this point, apart from the who's/what's/when's/where's and why's of the procedure itself.

We are told to be back at 5am if we want to see him before surgery.

Is there any wonder I can't sleep?!?!!

Seizures and other fun things

This week has gone from up to straight down. As is usually the case with liver disease, but I gotta tell you - it's exhausting. Mentally, physically and emotionally exhausting.

Tuesday he was booked in for a tap - I think I've already mentioned that he can't have medication anymore to control the fluid because his kidneys shut down - and had to be at the hospital at 8.30 Tuesday morning. Thank christ he was (at the moment, I'm kind of debating whether to thank christ, but more on that later).

He had a seizure. Two actually, but the first one was just after they marked him to put the tap in. Mum was there and got nurses etc who whisked him off to ICU. Again.

Whilst they were doing tests etc, he had another one.

So, he's in ICU and they need to do a CT scan and they find a dot. So, somewhere along the way, between various CT scans he's had, he's had an ever-so-slight stroke. How bad? We're not too sure yet; he's also on anti-seizure medication to sort out the seizures, and it is making him dopey.

As at right now; he's still in ICU and my mother and sister are in there. He was having a MRI scan this afternoon to investigate the blip on the CT radar.

I just hope that this doesn't knock out transplant hopes.

I went in this morning (only 2 at a time in ICU and I was working) and saw dad. I don't know if it's just me or what, but I am near on positive his face looks different. Whether it's me knowing it's a stroke or what - but his face looks like it's 'meant' to after a stroke. His eye has dropped.

Anyway, he is not very lucid but knows enough to know that A. I am not my mother or my sister and B. that he wants them. I was told to 'get out and call your mother and your sister and find out how long they are going to be'. I tried to talk him down, but he was having none of it. I couldn't hold it together anymore, so I had to leave.

His ammonia levels are through the roof; which is causing a degree of encephalopathy - but he still knew who mum and J were.

Just not me. Again.

And it's selfish and it's awful, but it hurts.

Badly.