Hic!

My step-dad is healing from his hip replacement surgery by leaps and bounds.

Maybe that's the wrong turn of phrase.  He's healing by shuffles and groans.  Yesterday the OT herded him into a stairwell and made him go up and down stairs. Fun times.  It's worth it, though.  He feels a little stronger every day.

His pain is under control.  Unfortunately, there is another side effect that is causing him intense frustration: chronic hiccups.

No one can say why, although this has been known to happen to patients who have undergone major surgery: he has been hiccuping almost non-stop for three days, with no end in sight.

My mom, who specializes in pessimism, is gravely concerned.  When we visited him after he'd been hiccuping for 24 hours, she folded her arms and her face got deadly serious.  She stuck out her jaw and regarded me soberly from under frowny eyebrows.

"He looks tired," she said in a stage whisper, as though we weren't standing inches from his bedside.  "Look at those dark circles under his eyes!"

"Yes, well, he has had major surgery.  People tend to look tired," I said.

My step-dad assured us that the hiccups do come and go.  They let up when he's relaxing or sleeping, but come back with a vengeance whenever he's active or talking.

"24 hours!  It's too long.  Did you tell the nurse?  Did you tell the doctor?"

There was one plot on Grey's Anatomy in which a character died from hiccups (at least indirectly), but I don't look there for sound medical facts.  My mom looked like she was seriously considering reviewing his funeral plans and making sure the undertaker was on call because Oy!  He won't stop hiccuping!  Emergency!

That's my mom.  He's in the hospital, surrounded by medical professionals, and all the highest tech equipment the Ontario government can afford... he couldn't be safer!  It's not even as though we live across the street from the closest emergency room - he's already admitted and in a bed!  When he leaves he'll have round-the-clock Personal Support Workers to tend to his every need for weeks.  This is probably the most managed, supervised, safe environment he's ever inhabited.  And still, my mother panics, because that's her thing.  She always panics.

It wears on my patience.  Can you tell?  I would be much happier to let her cry on my shoulder if she'd occasionally look on the bright side and celebrate: Surgery with no complications!  Fast healing!  Pain under control!  Could we not smile for five minutes before the next dramatic scene?  *sigh*  In this mood, love her though I do, very much, I could complain about her all day.  (But I won't.)

So, hiccups.  Today I got to listen in (via speakerphone) on a conversation between my step-dad and one of the professionals who works in his business.  The professional is not an employee per se, but does need to respect the business owners' wishes.  My step-dad had a disagreement with this fellow, and was dispensing what he refers to as "a reprimand".  He took as stern a tone as he could manage.

"Now look here," [when I was a kid I always knew I was in trouble when he started a speech with 'Now look here'] "we have HIC! discussed this and HYYYN! it's clear that HUP! we cannot accommodate you HN! HIP! HUP! anymore."

[silence while the other guy talks]

"I don't see HYNN! why you HIC! insist NN! HEHN! UP! UP! [pause while he catches his breath, and then burps] BBBLLRRRP, excuse me, upon ignoring HM! our previous HUP! damn these hiccups!  HUP! HUP! [...pause...] HNN! agreement.  Dammit!"

I've got to say, it's pretty tough to come across as a Scary Authority Figure when you're caught in an endless hiccuping fit.  I had a hard time keeping a straight face.  Good thing the guy on the other end of the line couldn't see me - or maybe he was laughing behind his hand too.