March 06, 2006

Monday Update

From the Desk of Mama...

I went on my final break of the day to see the Spousal Unit. Bear in mind that I work in the basement in an obscure cul de sac behind food services in the north east corner of a huge campus, and that Delfts is on the third floor of an added wing, attached willy-nilly like a mis-chosen puzzle piece at the southwest corner of this same huge campus. Now consider I only had 15 minutes to get there, check on him, and get back to my official duties as the Voice of the Hospital.

So off I go, zigging and zagging, jigging and jogging, up the elevator, past heart patients on their little hallway walks between the big read hearts on the walls, each heart placed 25 ft apart to track their progress, until at last I reach the CICU. I round the bend at team 4, straight down the hallway toward team 3, hit the wall button for access, pick up steam at the nurses desk, then look up to see that his room is dark, the door wide open, the bed empty, and the entire unit is Delfts-Free.

I cannot describe the momentary feeling I had when I saw that room.

After I found my wits, I went to the nurse at the counter just outside the room and asked where he had been moved. She was not able to find his name in the census, so I put two and two together, decided on the new Heart Failure Unit, and walked over. And there he was, alone in his room watching Jesse James grind an exhaust pipe for some chopper on the Discovery Channel.

I wasn't able to talk to his nurse, but from what Delfts said he had a bad angina attack last night. They gave him morphine and darvocet to help with the pain from that. His blood pressure is now so low (for him, anyway) that he feels like he has no strength and is fainty. Even at that, his top number is 144 and his bottom number is fondling 100.

Because that is seen as progress, they decided he didn't need to be in the CICU any longer and put him in a "Step Down Unit" specific to CHF patients. His lungs sounded a lot clearer, they've turned down the volume of his O2, and his color is a little better.

I tried to get him to use the keyboard the hospital provides for wireless internet, but he can't figure out how to use it. Of course, he's still tying to figure out his basic, no frills cell phone, so there's not going to be enough time to teach him how to cruise the net from his room. He simply won't be here long enough.

Hopefully he'll be better tomorrow and they will make a decision on cathing him again or not.

At the very least, he's had his last cigarette, whether he knows it now or not.

A last note: To all of the wonderful people, friends and strangers, old acquaintences and new ones, Emperors and minions, you cannot imagine how much your kindness has meant to all of us.

Each comment has been printed and taken to Delfts so that he can read them all, and I will tell you all now that there is no better medicine than the love of your friends and your family. As far as we are concerned, some of you have long ago transcended the realm of friend and truly are now family.

Thank you all so very much for your many kindnesses.


Posted by Mamamontezz at March 6, 2006 10:12 PM | TrackBack

It is always great to see you posting, but in this light it saddens me. Tell Uncle B he is in my prayers.

Has anyone called my Dad?

SlagleRock Out!

Posted by: SlagleRock at March 7, 2006 11:22 AM
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