Remembering May 12, 2014. The ER. Again.

Me and Dad just hanging out in the Emergency Room, only this time the smallest one we’re ever been in. I can imagine the conversation. Admin: Can you turn this supply closet into another patient room? Facilities: Yes, I think it can be retrofitted. Will the nurses require access to the patient?

Dad is 82 and in congestive heart failure since his bypass surgery 3 years ago. This time we’re here for fluid overload. Her diligently takes diuretics every day but his heart failure is at the point in his slide downward that it isn’t enough to keep up with the fluid.

By the time I got here, he was already feeling better with a fat dose of Lasix I.V. and teasing the nurses. I love Dad. He has a never-ending supply of affable humor. He has a quick wit and a memory like I’ve never had at any point in my life. The downside to that is that he can pin you down with a long detailed story, but he’s pretty funny, and every now and then, he’s really funny, so the trip down memory lane can be worth it. They are admitting him for a day or so to pull off more fluid, so he’ll be ok for a while longer. That’s a relief.

Stepping on my shadow leaving the hospital, my heart lurched a little wondering how many more of these trips there will be. Dad needs to stay. I need him to stay. I read this week about a protein discovered in the young blood of mice (and men) that can heal the heart muscles and brain impairment of elder mice.  They surgically attached a young mouse to an old mouse and let the young blood circulate through the old guy.  Guess what? The heart that had degenerated got stronger and his mental confusion cleared. Then they concentrated the protein ands injected it into an old mouse with similar results. The scientist said he expected they would begin clinical trials in humans in 3 years.

Not enough time for dad.

All I can think of since reading that is how can I get my hands in a field transfusion kit so Dad can have some of my son’s 22-year-old blood.   Or mine.


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