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Hi, folks. Finally now have the time and the strength to get back to a keyboard.
I was released (more like pushed out) of the hospital back on the 13th. The doctors removed over a foot of my large intestine which, in Doctor Personality's flowery language had become the consistency of balsa wood.
The first trip in they drained an abcess and were controlling the infections with antibiotics. Unfortunately, after a week home when my temperature shot through the roof and the pain came back with a vengeance, Bryan rushed me to the emergency room. It turned out that my colon had perferated where the abcess had been, and only him getting me there as fast as he had kept me from developing peritonitis and possibly even dying.
There followed a couple of harried days I barely remember thanks to my good friend Delaudid (or McMorphine as it became known to me), including rushing my lawyer in to witness a HCPOA giving Bryan the legal authority to make the decisions the hospital was already asking him to make. Bryan's Aunt Bette driving down from Red Bank (a two-hour trip with traffic against you) to keep him company for the eight hours I was in prep and the OR, and remembering all I was taught as a child -- I was praying the rosary using my fingers chisanbop style to count the prayers and decades as I was rolled down to prep, and instead of counting back from ten when the cone went over my nose, I whispered "Lord Jesus, into your hands I commend my spirit."
I have a temporary colostomy, which is scheduled to be reversed in January or February, and two open wounds from the incision that made me into the man with the Bionic Asshole. They need to be redressed twice a day, but appear to be healing nicely.
I spent three days in ICU with so many wires and tubes I kept thinking (again, thank you McMorphine) that I was Genvieve Bujold in "Coma." It took them five days to even be able to get me on clear liquids, and another two to even attempt solid food. Then, a couple of hours after Bryan filled out the paperwork to see what charity care and financial aid would be available (since the first round of bills is going to wipe out nearly all our savings), I was brusquely told by my attending (who had always been nice to us before that point) that I had better get up and start walking around the floor immediately, because I was going home the next day. All plans for a home health aide were canceled. They didn't even train Bryan how to deal with my wounds (or, worse, my colostomy) except for one quick demonstration as they changed the dressing that night. The surgeon told me later that night he wanted me around another day, but the next morning, someone actually summoned him out of the O.R. to sign off on discharging me, and out I went.
Needless to say, it's been an adventurous three days, and we can add carpet cleaning to our list of expenses. But Bryan's been my rock through all this, keeping his head despite constant panic mode. We're both just now approaching normal heart and breathing rates.
I know everyone here on DU (and apparently a few of you lurkers -- honest thank yous from me to you few) was praying for me and keeping positive energy coming my way. It's people like you who have helped me turn my response to each nurse asking me "how are you today?" with "wanna die...you?" from honest response to morbid joke. It's stuff like the responses to Bryan's post here that have helped me scrape my sense of humor back together, and increase my desire to stick around this stupid little mudball.
In closing, instead of the anticipated rant about everything wrong with the American health care system, let me talk about one thing that is right with it, and there aren't many of those to talk about. That's the personnel.
All along the way, from the first ambulance to the last exam room, everyone treated Bryan with every bit of care and respect they would have shown a wife. Even before a full Health Care power of attorney could be delivered (he only had my legal and financial POA handy) he was allowed into the room with me and consulted on decisions. One of the nurses even struck up a bit of a friendship with him, and was disappointed on nights he didn't visit. Of course, he still complains about the one security guard who kept trying to let him visit late at night (after he had been at work from 8 AM to 10 PM that day) until we got the nurses to buzz him up, but I kept emphasizing he was just doing his job.
Every nurse I dealt with during my almost-month stretch was wonderful, caring, friendly, and nothing short of professional. I truly felt cared for. The doctors (with notable exceptions) were great at keeping us informed and watching my progress. And for you fans of "House," I met the two men that I swear Greg House was based on. They were on my surgical team. One had been a surgeon at Princeton University Hospital (as opposed to "Princeton-Plainsboro") and the other had the asshole personality down pat. ("So, what are the options?" "You live, or you die." "Okay, let me think.") Still, two men I trust to do what's needed.
That brings us up to date. Thanks again, everyone. PM's are welcome from those who would be willing to help me with the next step...I'll explain to you later.
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