We just got back home, unpacked and half-bathed (I have yet to bathe). I’m glad to be back home, and away from the hospital insanity. My dad seems to be recovering well–he’s awake, his stats look good, and is on pain medication. The down side is that he’s starting to get depressed: he’s upset that the surgery didn’t go quite as he expected, the tumor was more aggressive than anyone had thought, and he now has an ileostomy and a colostomy. I think he’s also starting to realize that he will be fighting this the rest of his life, on some level or another.

It’s hard because I’m just relieved that he made it through surgery–both of them–and seems to be healing up well. I kept thinking the past two days that he seemed stronger, healthier and better off now than how he was when I drove down last week. There is also something reassuring about him being in the hospital–being cared by others than himself.

I have to admit I was a bit appalled by the hospital he is in–and am greatly appreciative of our local hospital. The hospital is pretty run down, not even up-to-date with HIPAA regulations and privacy screens, and worst of all: it had some of the filthiest bathrooms I have ever been in, including interstate rest stops! We made sure to wash our hands frequently, but half of the hand sanitizer dispensers were empty. I know we bitch and moan about our hospital, but even before the recent renovations, our hospital was so much cleaner and well-maintained. I just hope that my dad’s hospital makes up for their maintenance in quality of care. The nurses in the surgical ICU were fabulous–most of them were Filipina, which was nice for us: my aunt and my dad both worked the Filipino connection with them.

Hopefully my dad will get to talk with his surgeon tomorrow (he hasn’t seen him since his surgery, which is surprising), and maybe he’ll be moved to a regular bed.