A small, well not so small, correction.

Well, there was some cancer. Just because you don't see the words "malignant" and "positive" in a medical report doesn't mean it wasn't there. Another big, scary word like "adenocarcinoma" should have had me sitting upright, at attention. I guess it's just that my brain has always been taught that positive and malignant are the words that should strike fear, where cancer is concerned. I'm sorry for the confusion there. That's what you get when you let a medically uneducated civilian read a wordy medical report.

So maybe he didn't die in vain. But did he die way before the cancer would have gotten him? My dad was alert, talking and sitting till his third day post-op. On day 3, my father got confused and agitated, and needed sedation. We were told that his confusion was from high ammonia levels in his brain. The high levels were a result of clogged bowels. By having a bowel movement, he would flush the ammonia and insure the reconstructed plumbing was working correctly. After all, he had his gallbladder removed, 1/3 of his stomach removed, and the head of the pancreas removed. By day 4, when he still hadn't pooped the doctors did a turn-about and pinned his listlessness of pneumonia. He did indeed contract pneumonia, but what happened to the importance of clearing the toxic levels of ammonia? Why, when the obvious symptoms of gangrenous bowel were present, didn't they take action ? Instead we were told his mental confusion was caused by the pneumonia and perhaps alcohol withdrawal. WHAT? Why was a social drinker pumped full of Ativan, an alcohol withdrawal drug? We repeatedly told them my father was not an addict. In the end, his pneumonia cleared, and his heart and liver were strong. It was the damn gangrenous bowel that took his life.


I can now return to a state of peace and acceptance surrounding my father's ultimate fate. In the end, he would have died of pancreatic cancer. But I continue to be in turmoil about how and why he died in the hospital. We are now pouring over 1200 pages of documentation taken during my father's 15 day stay. I will not rest till we investigate every angle of these medical reports.

Boy, isn't is a friggin' laugh a minute reading my blog lately? Thanks for sticking with me.

On a good note, the kids' both start school tomorrow. Maggie will be entering 2nd grade, and Nora Ruby, kindergarten. Poor lambs. Out the door at 7:30 a.m., to be fed to the real world sharks. I will be sure to take pics of the big day.