Mystery Man

This day has not gone at all like I thought it would. This morning at 8:00 I was sure I would be extending my stay. Dad was burning up with fever last night and even weaker and more fragile than he had been before, and this morning when I called the hospital he said he was worse, yet.

Up to this point nothing explained why he was so sick; all tests come back negative. The doctor told me they have scanned him from head to toe looking for signs of cancer and find none. The kidney specialist looked for any little reason to do a kidney biopsy and could not justify it.

Finally, Dad told me this morning they had decided to tap into the cyst that has been in his liver since at least 2007. It is a big cyst, 10 cm. That’s big enough to push a baby through! By the time we arrived at the hospital they had pulled over 500cc’s off! The rest of the day we kept tally as they emptied that bag over and over and over. By the time we left this evening they had drained off over 1000 cc’s of fluid.

Around 4:00 the nurse encouraged Dad to sit up for a while, and then she told him to try walking. We walked the length of the hall, Ken on one side, me on the other. By the time everyone left the hospital for the evening, Dad had eaten half a cheeseburger, sat in the chair for over 30 minutes and walked the halls again, this time with Rick and I, but with no help. When we hugged him goodnight before leaving his skin was cool as a cucumber, he’d splashed his face, combed his hair and put his glasses on. He was engaged in conversation with Rick and I, and chuckled easily at our banter.

Just now I called him to see how he’s feeling. I told him I was nervous to call, so afraid he may have regressed, yet again. But no, he is still feeling as good as he was when we left him this evening.

This morning the Infectious Disease doc came in and said, “well, here’s our Mystery Man” because we didn’t know what was making him sick.

I think we do now, although we might not know why, after all these years, a cyst suddenly becomes toxic.

Tonight when we reported in to all our kids I felt giddy. Our news was not the news I expected to give and not the news they were expecting to hear.

When Dad was here for Josh and Abby’s wedding in September he went with me to work out on the Yew Street stairs. We talked about how we both expect to live to 100, he’ll just get there before me. So, though Dad is turning 78 this year, he’s still quite young, and has too many things on his to do list here, so whether we ever know why he go sick or not, I’m just incredibly happy that things are looking up now!


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