Today continued to bring progress for dad.  But along with that progress came some tough moments.

I will start with the updates from Corrine's morning shift (we are all still taking turns with hospital shifts, which is needed even more now than when he was in ICU).

The first thing that Corrine noticed when she got to the hospital this morning was that Dad was missing his feeding tube.  He had somehow managed to yank it out during the night.  They left it out for a while but then scheduled  a procedure to have it looped through his nose and tied inside so that it can no longer be pulled out.  Doesn't sound fun, does it?

Dad continued to be "de-hospitalized" this morning.  His side stitches, side drain, catheter and pic line all came out.  Only his feeding tube and trach/ oxygen mask remain.  He is medically making progress, although his white blood cell count this morning was slightly high. 

Dad's facial surgery was scheduled for tomorrow evening.  He was cleared to go to rehab tomorrow, but because of his surgery, his release from the hospital to the rehab floor has been pushed off until at least Friday. 

The trauma team PA explained to Corrine that Dad is currently experiencing delirium, and told her to google it.  So, if you want to know more about what that entails, I would encourage you to google it too.  But, in short, it means that Dad's brain is a bit "foggy" right now.   She mentioned that our family can all help him through this by going out of our way to orient him to the time of day and let him know what is happening.  We should explain things to him and just try to update him on what is going on around him.  One way that we can help is by pointing out the clock on the wall and talking to him often in our normal voices (not extra loud as we sometimes feel the tendency to do).

Shari had an eventful afternoon shift with Dad.  While she was there, physical therapy came in to work with him and they got him up and walking!   He had two people supporting him, one person following behind him with a wheelchair (just in case) and Shari following along with the feeding tube.  By the time he got to the door of his room he was already exhausted and plopped down in the chair.  They told him from there that they wanted him to take 10 steps and he did!  He was wobbly, required support, and had a hard time focusing his vision, but he was able to do it.  After he rested in the wheelchair for a while they talked him into taking 10 more steps.  That was his limit.  But he did sit in the wheelchair for a while and had his hair combed (he wasn't able to do it himself).  When they got him back in bed he was immediately asleep.  As Shari said, "one step at a time. . . and today he took 20!"

I had the evening shift and it was a doozy.   Dad was by far the most "with it" that I have seen him since the accident.  But I guess he thought that he was feeling pretty good, good enough to do what he wanted, so he spent the entire evening trying to climb out of bed and trying to grab onto me to pull him out of bed.  I am not strong enough to support him and there were a few times he almost fell out of bed, so it was a pretty emotionally and physically draining evening.  Dad was "talking" the entire time I was there through mouthing words and making hand gestures.  Towards the end of my shift I could read his lips and he mouthed, "Mary, I need to go,"  while pointing to the door.  At least he really knows my name now!   But, seriously, it broke my heart.  He kept trying to pull off his oxygen mask, feeding tube, and even the cast on his left arm.  He just wanted out of that bed, out of the hospital so very badly.   And I could see how terribly frustrated he was that he couldn't talk.  He was trying so very, very hard to talk to me and tell me what he wanted, and I could see how disappointed he was when I couldn't understand him or wouldn't help him. 

He also kept pointing to his right eye, which is sewn shut and isn't working properly right now anyway, and then looking at me with a questioning face.  I tried to explain to him about what had happened, and about his injuries and tell hm that he was getting better, etc., but that just seemed to make him more frustrated.  I could see where the delirium was coming in to play with him.  He is acting more impulsively than he would otherwise. 

He did display a sense of humor when Josh and my kids stopped in for a quick minute.  And he was calm and attentive to Kelsey when she stopped in, but when the grand kids were gone, he was back to begging me to help him out of there.  I originally thought that he was telling me that he wanted to get out of bed to go to the bathroom, but that was making him more upset that I wasn't understanding.  I later figured out that he really was trying to get me to take him home. 

Right before I left, the nurse's assistant, who is parked 24/7 at the side of his bed, turned on the TV for him, which seemed to calm him down.  I think they were going to give him a sleep aid to help him settle down and rest tonight. 

I can tell through Dad's actions that he is starting to physically feel so much better.  He is trying to take initiative and be back in control of his own life.  It is great to see that, but at the same time, it is so hard to see him so uncomfortable and unhappy.  Hopefully things will continue to improve quickly so that he can be up and about and talking again soon.

Tomorrow is surgery day. We will keep you all updated.