Hard to be Creative

You would think in a state like Kansas, where the only thing that counts is creationism, it would be a lot easier to be creative. Well, you would be wrong. We had a rough day today that ended with the painful insertion of a chest tube.

Why in the hell would a doctor decide to surgically ram a freakin garden hose into the broken ribs of my father and call is something an non-invasive sounding as a "tube," is beyond me! Holy fuck! These doctors come to me and say they want to insert a tube that will help him breathe, so I say, "Sure, a little tube sounds like it might really help. Let's stick that fucking tube in there, and why the fuck did you wait three days to suggest it?"

Well, maybe it might help... but the surgeon comes in the room and starts off with, "You know this is really going to hurt, right? I mean, we will give you an anesthetic and all, but this is REALLY going to hurt."

The Surgical RN piped in and told me they would give my dad something to try to help him forget how fucking bad it hurt to ram a freakin damn garden hose into his broken ribs and coil it up BEHIND his lung inside his busted chest. I know there is this old true-ism that "Hindsight is always 20/20," but I REALLY wish I had asked if they would make him forget who authorized that damn garden hose he has coiled all over his body and plugging into a sump pump at the foot of the bed. Yeah, I REALLY wish I had asked that question.

It's been a long day and I wasn't even going to post. I thought, Who would want to hear about this ordeal? It was a day where we felt like we took a step forward and got pulled two steps back. The surgeons basically said the chest tube will need to be in for about 4 days. That shoots the hell out of our plans on leaving by Monday and will probably move us back towards the end of next week.

Right now I serve as a errand boy, fetching Dad's pee jar, handing him ice water and making sure that garden hose that mysteriously appeared sticking out of his busted up ribs (It my new story... shut the fuck up) ...anyway I need to make sure it is coiled up on the foot of his bed so the sump pump works. All tasks I am qualified to perform. Yet in spite of my shouldering the awesome responsibility of watching a garden hose slowly fall off the side of a bed.. a quiet nagging voice is whispering the truth I don't want to face.

I only have clean clothes for 4 days.

?!!