Remember

Appointment week is behind me now.

The last one was a loooong one.

It shouldn't have been, but it was.

We arrived at 1:50, waited for forty minutes (while watching the food network) and then were called back for the echogram.

Echograms are interesting. I'm sure that my dad's heart was the model for Jabba the Hutt. They are also long and boring and done in a dark room. I must have fallen asleep a half dozen times during the 30 minute procedure. The last time I woke up when the tech said, "You can roll over to your back now", and I attempted to. Oh, by the way, I wasn't the one having the test. Thankfully, trying to roll to ones back while sitting in a chair wakes one up rather nicely.

Did I mention that the air conditioning wasn't working? Anyway, after the test we got to go back into the waiting room to watch more of the food network. Then we were called back into another room, even hotter than the previous two.

If you know my dad you know that he doesn't say much. We had been together everyday this week. There was NOTHING left to say.

By the time the doctor came into the room I was no longer just hot, I was antsy because I had to meet up with THGGM for an appointment on the other side of town at 6:20.

The one thing I did notice was that the doctor was wearing a wedding ring and all the buttons on his sleeve were sewn with the same color thread. Unlike the last time. I remember the oddest things.

What I didn't remember is what I went intending to ask. What I want is to know if my dad can have a standing order to go in the hospital every 4-6 months to have fluid removed from his body. Did I remember to ask THAT ONE THING? No. I did not.

Then the doctor started changing medication doses and I could hardly keep up. Double this and double that he is saying while my mind is scrambling to WAKE up, let alone KEEP up.

Deep in the part of my brain that used to store important bits of information but now mainly serves to collect songs sung by Bob the Tomato or The Wiggles, I sort of recall that he was the one who cut those meds in half the last time we were there because of how drastically my dad's bp dropped when he stood up.

The questions were ever so slowly starting to move like sap to the spout which is my mouth when the doctor asked my dad if he had ever taken Viagra.

Suddenly, the sap wanted to burst into 'Viva Viagra' as heard on that creepy commercial.

Apparently, Viagra helps lower pulmonary hyper-tension. We get to talk about that at our next appointment.

Oh, goody.

I try to be mature. Really. I do.

But I can't seem to remember HOW.

Tuesday I shall have to make several calls to different doctors trying to find out if all of this change in medication should take place all at once (there was an earlier change made at one of the previous appointments) or if it should be done slowly.

Seriously. Someone in this family needs to become a nurse.

And I shall provide the background music,

"Miss Polly had a dolly who was sick sick sick.

She called for the doctor to come quick quick quick."

Yes. I can remember THAT.

And, as soon as my dad's med changes are confirmed, I'm planning to put them to the tune of "An English Country Garden".

If you are wondering, normal pulmonary pressure is 25. My dad's is 80.

(i made that pin cushion.)