On Friday morning my dad texted my mom a message from work that was ultimately perplexing (yet rather uninformative): "really really sick can't drive go to room one hospital. send."
So she went to the hospital, but he wasn't here. When they saw the text she got, they started calling around but couldn't seem to locate him at any nearby hospitals.
Finally he answered my mom's text asking for clarification to tell her more of his symptoms and that he had checked into a hotel room (at the hotel that he works at) so that he could sleep it off, but that he was too sick to even sleep, and that he would really like to go to the hospital.
So my mom went to the hotel to pick him up to take him to the hospital.
His heart rate was off, so they gave him an EKG (because his heart is a going concern), but although his heart rate was off, they didn't seem to think his heart was the problem. So they gave him a CT scan (or CAT scan or something) and found that his gallbladder was severely inflamed and full of kidney stones and that it would have to come out immediately.
Now, my friend Shallee also had an emergency surgery for her gallbladder this weekend. She went in on Saturday and they held her overnight for an emergency surgery the following day. She went home Sunday afternoon.
They didn't wait at all for my dad, just pulled my dad into surgery immediately. Like, "Let's cut this guy open!"
So he had surgery on Friday and has just been in a bad way since then. I was starting to get concerned about sepsis or something because his white blood cell count was elevated and didn't seem to be responding to the antibiotics they had been administering through his IV (his white blood cell count was 19000 on Friday when he was admitted and by Sunday it was only down to 18000 (normal is like 4000 (with anything over 10000 being concerning)).
But today his white blood cell count is "borderline" and he's feeling...better...though he still hasn't managed to keep any food down at all (so that's still an issue).
He has been up for texting and things, though, which he hadn't been all weekend, so I thought it would be a good time to do a 16th anniversary of the red shirt he gifted Rachel when she was a wee baby, shortly before he went in for an emergency triple bypass surgery.
I can't even remember what size it was meant to be, but all of my kids have worn it around age two (anywhere from 12 months to 4 years, honestly).
Here's Phoebe wearing it tonight, with all of her siblings who wore it before her:
|Phoebe and the red shirt July 2023|
|Alexander and the red shirt September 2020|
|Zoë and the red shirt, July 2017|
|Benjamin and the red shirt August 2015|
And here he is a few months before that in May 2015 when Zoë was just brand new (you can't really tell that he's wearing the shirt, but I know that he is):
|Rachel and the red shirt, July 2011|
And here she is wearing it for the first time in early September 2007 (at six weeks old) to cheer up my dad, who was in the hospital recovering from heart surgery: