waiting for the call

DH is en route to the East Coast, his father is critically ill. The litany of physical failures the poor man has suffered over the past two weeks has little to do with his current condition. The stroke was very slight, the heart attack was so minor it left no damage at all on the heart muscle itself. The coronary arteries were not as blocked as they thought, and so a double-bypass operation only was needed, versus the quadruple the doctors had thought.

All of that should have led to a good prognosis, except after the angiogram, he developed a C. difficile infection. He was treated and was deemed well enough for the coronary bypass surgery, but pretty much immediately afterwards, the C. difficile roared back; he was in surgery again this morning for a colectomy, it was that serious.

The latest news from about 4 hours ago was that he was no better but no worse; on 100% oxygen but his blood oxygen was still too low; blood pressure practically non-existent, and fluids leaking somewhere internally, with the possibility of opening him up again to relieve pressure and fix the leaks. He has been intubated since Tuesday afternoon, having already endured a colonoscopy, with an abdominal CT scan still to come -- they had to restrain his hands so he wouldn't pull the tube out. (I remember my own father trying to do the same; remembering, it feels like someone squeezing my heart.) But since the surgery this morning he has been sedated, and they will keep him under until he's turned one corner or the other.

It doesn't feel real at all.

I have that fussy, fidgety feeling that I should be doing something to help, but there is literally nothing I can do except pray, and I'm already doing that.

Praying, and waiting, and holding down the fort until DH comes home again, or we get called out there.

7AM Update: Some improvement over night; they've taken him off some of the very strong, last-ditch-effort drugs. More praying, more waiting.