Papa TriSec did not die.

But he's been in the hospital for the last ten days.


Wednesday, March 20, ten days ago now. My father reached his 90th birthday. He had already been in the hospital earlier in the month - as it turned out, the syncope and collapse just before I went to Florida was not due to low blood sugar, it was actually because of a heart condition, and he had a pacemaker implanted at Melrose-Wakefield hospital. Which was the only thing they got right.

Because I found him on the floor that morning, and his blood sugar was so low that the EMT's monitoring equipment couldn't even register it, they completely messed with his insulin regimen and nearly killed him. From low to high, which precipitated a condition called Diabetic Ketoacidosis - which is rapidly fatal if left untreated. This is what killed diabetics before insulin was discovered.

On top of that, he was discharged from the hospital with a UTI, which they failed to diagnose.

On his birthday, we went to visit Benchmark Senior Living here in Waltham, but things went rapidly downhill after that. We went to Urgent Care, and then he was immediately referred to Beth Israel Hospital in Boston - which is his regular hospital and doctors.

The UTI was a rather resistant strain, and they had to go through two different antibiotics before one finally took hold. This was last weekend already - when I thought for sure we were going to lose him.

But fast-forward a week, and now all is well. The DKA is completely gone, and his blood sugar is back under control. The UTI has responded to treatment, and the infection is receding. His mental status is clearing; although not 100%, I'd call it perfectly normal for a 90-year-old in hospital.

He's eating again, and even has been up and walking around the hospital floor, so the doctors are cautiously thinking discharge. It's going to be to a rehab assignment for a week or two, which gives me and Brother TriSec time to resolve the house and get his new apartment set up at the senior living center.

It's been a bit of a ride.

We might even manage to have a wee celebration when he lands back on his feet. Birthdays in the hospital are not much fun, after all.