Ode to the nurse.

I spent this weekend in Denver. It wasn't a planned trip, and it wasn't a particularly fun trip. I needed to be there for my dad as he was taken back into the hospital a month after his spinal fusion (no, it's not a delicious sushi meal), he got mysteriously sick and was rushed back into surgery. He had a fever, vomiting, delusions, ultimate pain and hardcore difficulty breathing. At any rate, he was in the hospital for four long days. And I have some conclusions about days spent in the hospital.

First, there are about 30 different nurses on each day. This is great, except for the fact that when they each enter the room they will ask questions to my father that they should probably already know the answer to. So when nurse number three asks my father (who has just had a conversation with me about whether the Nuggets will beat the Rockies and what I will do with my lawn) what meds he is on, I am thinking that he may not have the most accurate answer. He is on some heavy shit.....he can't talk (in a language I understand) and I am fairly sure that the Ooompa-Loompas are keeping him company in the bathroom. My dad is not in good shape and should not be answering these medical questions. He can barely answer the easy ones- What is your name? No dad....it's not Mikey. So the nurses not only ask what pain meds he is on, but how much of that....he has NO idea! That was a little scary for me to watch. I know that the nurses do the best they can, and bless them,. It can't be easy taking care of people at their worst.

And, it's not easy taking care of a man, my father, at his worst. He believes you should work until you drop. This is not the mentality someone recovering from two spinal surgeries needs to have. But he asks good questions, how to know what is enough. How does he know when he is over doing it? How does one take it easy after he has spent 40 years working as hard as his tiny feet and strangely designed body will let him. He is my hero, for a lot of things. I just hope he can breathe in a lot of air and not have to see the plethora of nurses and don those super stylish hospital gowns with the pocket in the front for a long time.

If my dad ever reads this (he won't- he doesn't understand what blog is-he thinks a blog comes out of your nose); I hope he knows how much I love and respect him.