UPDATE.........

The week progressed as usual after his falling out on the deck, but, by the beginning of the next week, this past Monday he seemed a little confused.  Of course we don't want to go to the doctor.  Tuesday night, I helped him get his supper together, he did not want me to fix his supper or feed his cats.  He does, however, let me feed the birds.  Wednesday morning I stopped by to see if he wanted anything from the grocery store and found him on the kitchen floor.  His supper was still on the counter, so, even tho I asked him how long had he been down there, to which he replied 'oh, about 10 minutes'.  I believe he was there all night.  I went to the phone to call 911 and he was screaming at me, I'm surprised you all didn't hear him, that he was not going to the hospital.  I hung up the phone and they called me back, I told the dispatcher that I just needed help in getting him up.  That turned out to be the right thing to say 'cause they didn't even mention a med unit would be dispatched.  Took the girls on the ambulance and his neighbor, Crocket, 2 and a half hours to talk him in to going in to the ER.  Katy kept saying to me 'he really does need to go in and be checked out'.  I told her, 'you're preaching to the choir, good luck'.  So he was in the ER when I got there and they were getting ready to move him up to the heart floor.  Turns out, his white count was elevated so there was an infection somewhere which was raising his blood pressure and bringing on his confused state, plus, this put stress on his heart and caused a slight heart attack.  Thursday I went in and there is blood in his urine. They do a bladder scan and the bladder looks fine, they wanted to scope him out and he told them NO.  The doctor then pussy-foots around him and asks me about doing the procedure and I told him if he doesn't want it done then you're not doing it.  Damn hospitals, no wonder he hates them.  Friday, they call me and say his heart went into A-Fib but they gave him a shot to get it back.  He is now refusing the drip IV.  Again, this doctor wants me to OK it.  I told him, if he doesn't want it, you're not doing it, damn hospitals.  His confusion is not nearly as bad as when this started.  The white count is down.  They've got him on a IV drip of antibiotics.  I've filled out the paper work to get him into the place for rehab.  I have been told that it is the best in the county.  I told him that he is going to rehab so he can get the strength back in his legs and he can get back to his house and he's good with that.  We'll see.  So, that is the whole sordid story.  He's my dad, and I love him, but I think he's ready to go.  I'm OK with that. We are a 'pull the plug' family; no heroics.  Sometimes you have to scream that at the medical people who are trained or brain-washed to save-the-life at all cost. Living wills are meant to do that but they still won't listen.  This might be getting interesting before it's over 'cause I don't want to see him suffer like mom did.  After all, this earth is just a bus stop and we're only passing thru. 

Later...............