My father is on Prednisone for Temporal Arteritis. It’s an inflammatory disease that is diagnosed by bloodwork AND a Biopsy of the Temporal Artery. The Biopsy is the important part. Of course my father refuses to get a Biopsy and is going on the diagnosis made by the Emergency Room Doctor at a Hospital that has tried to kill him several times and had a huge hand in my mother’s death.
The Prednisone itself is a harsh medication. It makes it harder for you to fight infections, causes weight gain, brittle bones, diabetes, and changes in personality and mood. I no longer recognize my dad’s face or his personality. His face is so bloated his eyes look closed. He angers easily and has a problem controlling his temper. This is not the man I know and love. It is hard to watch him change.
He will not listen to me even though I live with him and I’ve always been the closest person to him besides my mom. If my sister came over and saw him and spoke to him about his health, for some reason he would listen. She’s too busy. She didn’t even talk to him on Easter. She feels that he knows how to work a phone too and should call her. She is an idiot with her head in the sand. It’s her favorite place to stay. That way she isn’t responsible for anything.
I have to go to a Hospital I’ve never been to tomorrow for testing before surgery. She can’t go with me because she is working the “book sale” at her kids school. My dad is going with me. I don’t want him to. He is sick and shouldn’t be around other people that are sick.
I really need him to come off the Prednisone. His Dr. at Dialysis says he needs to come off of it but gave him no suggestions or names of people to see. They have infiltrated his fistula 5 times now. I become more disgusted every time he comes home. I called there once because I was angry. My father was furious with me. He’s so filled with pride it’s going to kill him.
He has done nothing in regards to a Living Will or a regular Will. His state of affairs is a mess. Someone will have to deal with his 300 pigeons and his enormous antique clock collection. My sister believes she can just open the doors to the pigeon coops and they will fly away. She’s in for a big surprise. My sister and brother know nothing about antique clocks either. They do not know what is worthless and what is valuable. I imagine a yard sale with over 100 antique clocks all priced at $10.
I’ve stopped worrying about it. They can have it all. I would rather have my dad. My plan is to take off as soon as anything happens to my father. Let them deal with the mess I’ve been dealing with for years. I’ll live in my car if I have to. L.A. has a very nice homeless population in this one area I know of. There is a car wash across the street where most of them wash up. It doesn’t scare me anymore to think of that happening to me. I would be more afraid of being hospitalized against my wishes.
Back to the Prednisone. I need to find a way to get him weaned off of it. I may have to play nice with my sister and get her to talk to him.
In case I forget I watched a YouTube video of a young woman who had a Nephrostomy. This is where they have 2 tubes coming out of your back to drain your kidneys. This may be in store for me. I really, really, hope not. I’ll have to weigh quality of life against quantity at that point.