The "S" Word.

We were watching television in my dad's hospital room on Monday night or, more accurately, I was watching television while each parent dozed in their respective chairs. Halfway through a sudoku puzzle, the week caught up to my mom and her head fell back as she snored. My dad, wrapped in blankets, gazed up at the TV for as long as he could before his eyelids grew heavy, and his head rolled forward. It was a peaceful family moment, despite all the guns firing and people shouting on the television.

That's when the man in the suit arrived.

My dad looked about, getting his bearings as I gently woke him. My mom fumbled for her glasses, perched on top of her head. This was the main shoulder surgeon, whose associate my dad had dismissed in a moment of exhaustion, frustration, and misunderstanding over the weekend. He looked at my father's swollen left hand, peeled back the bandage on his shoulder to look at the almost closed but red and inflamed wound, and didn't pull any punches: “you've got a serious problem here.”

He was tired after a long day of work, after being called out to the hospital at 9:30 at night. But he explained honestly what he knew and didn't know. He didn't have any more answers than any other doctors about how the benign cyst on my dad's shoulder had even originated in the last few years, but was certain that repeatedly poking holes in it to aspirate the gathering fluid was only a temporary solution, one that continually left him exposed to a serious infection. As my research had shown, the concern about such an infection was that it might spread to the bone, something he wouldn't know for sure until operating.

Antibiotics alone won't be enough to keep the infection at bay. It's controlling it, which is why my dad's fever has been down, but his temperature will keep coming back up until the infection is completely removed. The best way to do so if for the doctor to make a small incision in a controlled environment, and drain the arm. He plans to also drill a small hole in the bone to take a biopsy, and determine if that too is infected. He doesn't think my dad will lose the arm, but can't promise how much motion he'll have. He stressed that the procedure is only to clean out the shoulder so my dad will get healthier, that any reconstruction of the lost rotator cuff would be several surgeries over months, something my dad probably wouldn't opt for. And if there is an infection in the bone, that would require a second surgery once the infection was gone, to remove the dead tissue, insert antibiotic beads, and patch it up. In a way, it'd be not unlike filling in a cavity, but probably more painful. As it is now, my dad hasn't been able to raise his arm over his head. Now, when(if...?) he pulls through this, he probably won't be doing much lifting. We didn't discuss the obvious impact on his music career, as I kept him focused on the positive that after a week of sitting in a room feeling like nothing was happening, they were taking aggressive action.

I'm praying like crazy, and I'm assuaging any fears my mom raises, even ones I have myself. I asked the surgeon if the cardiologist cleared my dad for surgery, and if his heart and other vitals would be monitored. He'll be sitting in a chair and not lying down, which was one of his concerns since he gets chest pain when he isn't seated. From what I understand, this procedure isn't our main concern so much as what happens afterwards. He won't be worked on for more than 30 minutes to an hour, but he'll likely have a few drains left in the arm for a few days. The antibiotics will continue to knock out what's left of the infection, and hopefully the bone won't have been affected and he'll be able to function, albeit with reduced motion in that arm. The doctor stressed how rare such an infection is in this day and age, and was baffled at the various other doctors who just kept draining the mystery lump over these past few years, knowing that infection was inevitable. I know I've probably asked this before, but any prayers, well wishes, and/or good thoughts sent my dad's way would be appreciated, now more than ever. We're not remotely through this thing yet, but we're taking our first steps.