I am at Harmon Rehab the next morning about 11:30.  I have plans to return to Los Angeles after checking in with Dad and making sure everything is okay.

When I get there, he is laying almost on his back.  Knowing that is very uncomfortable for him, I raise his head up and ask him how he is doing.  He says he has bad heartburn.  I ask if they have given him anything for it.  He says the food sucks and they gave him some Maalox earlier but it's not having any effect.  He also is trying to cough up phlegm and says that he still does not have a suction tube.

I go out to the nurse's station to talk with his nurse.  She says they gave him Maalox.  I tell her he is still having bad heartburn and the Maalox isn't helping. 

Is there something else we can give him?  Maybe some Zantac? 

Well, they have to have the doctor's okay to do that. 

Well, how about calling the doctor and see what he says, I suggest. 

She says she will try to find him. 

Is he in the facility or not?

She's not sure.

While I wait for her to find out, I ask about the suction tube and am told that someone from Respiratory has to evaluate him.

I go back to his room.  A few minutes later, a young woman comes in.  She is the Respiratory Therapist. 

I explain that he needs a suction tube. 

She asks why. 

I tell her that he is weak and has a hard time coughing up all the phlegm.

My hand to God, she tells me that we have to "stop babying him".  She has worked in many hospitals and she knows that all they do there is baby their patients.  Now that he is here, we have to stop babying him and get him strong enough to be able to go home.  

I tell her that is all good and fine but that he had surgery barely a week ago and is still very weak.  A suction tube would help him cough up phlegm.

Again, I am told to stop babying him.

She says she will do an eval, consult with her Supervisor and let me know what they decide.

Fine, do the eval, I say.  The sooner, the better.

She listens to his chest, his lungs, takes his pulse, asks him to cough.  He does so weakly, complaining of heartburn.

Serena comes in and I explain what has happened.  The Respiratory Therapist leaves but not before telling us that she will be back to let us know what they decide.

I go in search of the nurse to find out if they can give Dad some Zantac.  The nurse says they are still waiting for the Doctor to call back.

Serena offers to go to the near-by 7-11 and get Dad some Zantac.  It seems the fastest solution.

While she is gone the Respiratory Therapist comes back to say she was right.  No suction tube is needed.

I bite my tongue.

She leaves.

About 15 minutes later another Respiratory Therapist comes in.  She performs the same eval as the first one.  Her reaction, however, is very different.  She says that Dad needs to be moved to another wing with oxygen portals on the wall.  She rushes out to the nurse's station to find out if there is a bed available in the right wing.

Serena returns.  We are both concerned by the very quick turn of events.  The second Respiratory Therapist comes back in and says there is a bed and he has to be moved NOW!  Two other nurses come in and they try to move the bed.  The bed won't move.  The wheels are stuck in the immobile position.  Another nurse comes in.  For a few minutes they are more concerned about the bed than Dad.  He is now complaining his chest hurts. ALOT.

While the comedy of errors about getting the bed to move continues, the Doctor shows up.  He listens to Dad's chest and lungs and pronounces Dad in congestive heart failure.  The Paramedics are called.  Serena tells Dad not to worry, the Paramedics are coming and we will be going back to the hospital.  The Charge Nurse scolds my niece, telling her that only the Doctor can make that pronouncement.  Serena tries to explain that she is trying to keep Dad calm.  The Charge Nurse continues to scold her.

The Paramedics show up and get him hooked up to oxygen.  I explain that he had come from Valley Hospital just yesterday and we would like for him to go back there.  They tell us that it is doubtful that he would survive the trip across town.  Desert Springs Hospital is just around the corner.  We are going there.

They get Dad on the gurney and we all fly out the door.  From the car, I call Mom and tell her we are on our way to Desert Springs Hospital and why.  I call Jon and tell him.

All I can hear in my mind is that Respiratory Therapist telling us to "Stop Babying Him".  In less than seventeen hours in this facility, they have managed to undo the last month's progress and Dad, again, is fighting for his life.