Who's more nuts...

...Dad or the psychiatrist?

Today we were at the VA for four and a half hours. First the nurse told me the wrong time. I KNOW she did because when she wanted to give me a later appointment I told her I couldn't do it. She said, ok, come in at 12:45. When we got there the receptionist guy said, "We never have appointments at 12:45. Everyone's at lunch until 1:30. Your appointment is at 1:45". Now, if I had known that I would have made the appointment for another day. So, we had to wait for an hour after the appointment time.

Sitting in the waiting area, trying to sit away from Dad because his breath is DEATH, surrounded by grumpy old men and their caregivers. For an extra hour. Then they called us in and took us to the little room where they ask Dad a bunch of questions he can't answer and take his blood pressure. While he was in there I snuck out and snagged Dr. Griffin and had a quick one on one with her. Dad came out just as she left. He didn't see me talking to her. Whew! Then we went back out to the waiting area.

It was getting late and I was supposed to pick Paige up and take her to a hair appointment. My cell phone wouldn't work inside the building so I went outside to make the call. It wouldn't work out there either. One of the grumpy guys in the waiting area told me that the service around the hospital is really bad, that he can't get a signal unless he goes all the way out to the parking lot. I went back out and tried that but no dice. I had to give up because I was worried that they'd call Dad back in and I really needed to be there.

I went back and sure enough, he had been called in. We sat in Dr. Griffin's office for a bit and then the psychiatrist came in. I'm sure she's a great psychiatrist but she is one goofy woman. She's tall and very thin but she wears dresses that are two sizes to big for her and go all the way to the floor. She's a little cock-eyed. You don't know where to look when you're talking to her. And she has a thick German accent so she's hard to understand. She said, "I'd like to take your daughter into my office and talk to her". Dad started to get a little mad about that but he was overwhelmed by Dr. Griffin and the three interns that were in her office. I dashed out.

The atmosphere in that whole place was rushed and scattered. When I was talking to Dr. Giertz I felt like I had to speak very quickly. It was weird! I told her about Dad's violent outbursts and forgetting he had Christmas trees and all that other stuff. She said she could prescribe either an anti-paranoia drug or something that would address his aggression. I said, "Well, if we take care of the paranoia wouldn't that help with his outbursts?" Jeez, why is it MY choice? In the end we (?) decided to increase the Divalproex, which is what he was already taking, and add in Risperidone (increased risk of stroke or heart failure, can mess with blood glucose levels). The Risperidone can wait until we need it to handle a stressful situation, like the next big work day. I also talked to her about needing a letter stating that Dad can't handle his own finances and stuff.

It was CRAZY! It was like one of those movie scenes where you see a hallway and people are running in and out of doors in different combinations. There was me, the two doctors, the three interns, the nurse and Dad all moving around to different rooms. All women except for Dad. Every conversation was hushed and hurried. When it was time to leave Dr. Griffin said, "Ok, now go upstairs to the lab on the 4th floor and then come back here and I'll give you that letter."

She said that with Dad in the room.

"WHAT LETTER? I WANT A COPY OF THAT LETTER!!! NOBODY EVER TELLS ME ANYTHING!!!!"

Hoo boy. One the way out Dr, Griffin pulled me aside and said she was sorry about that little slip up. I told her just make up a fake letter and I'll give it to him. Then we went to the 4th floor. I was thinking they were just going to take some blood. On the way there we had both stopped at the restrooms. After they took his blood they handed him a cup and told him they needed a urine sample. Oops. Daddy was bone dry. He was in the bathroom for 20 minutes trying to make wee. After a while we decided to give up on that one. We went back downstairs (he took the cup with him) to get his meds and go back to Dr. Griffin "to make his next appointment". He had forgotten about the letter by then. When we got there I told him to go to the restroom again and try to get a sample while I saw Dr. Griffin. He totally bought it. I got the letter while he was in the restroom trying to produce. Then we got his meds and came home.

This was one of those days where I feel totally crazed when it's all over. Like I can't slow down. Well, I just had a beer. I'm slowing down a little.