February 19, 2022

Ohhhhh, this day. Yeah. I got a couple few new gray hairs that day. Ooof.

Oh, people down-cast in despair
See the disillusion everywhere
Hoping their bad luck will change
It’s a little harder everyday

Full-on Soul-Leaving-My-Body moment this morning; they’d moved Tim to a different room overnight and didn’t want to bother me at 3 AM with a phone call, and then forgot to call me after shift change. Everything is fine, it was just a staffing issue, they like the nurses patients to be right next to each other and the night nurse had two patients across the hall and down a bit from each other, and so to make it easier they moved Tim to a room where the nurse only had one patient and now has two, next to each other.

I’ll talk more about this in a bit, but… yeah. Whew. I really just about did space out there for a minute. WHERE WAS TIM. Did he die and they didn’t call me? You know that was my first thought. My second thought was that he got worse and had been taken somewhere. Yeah, I would have had heart failure if they’d called me at 3 AM but at least I would have gotten over that faster.

People struggle, people fight
For the simple pleasures in their life
The trouble comes from everywhere
It’s a little more than you can bear

And other than that, there’s not much going on. Speech doesn’t work over the weekend, or something (?); yesterday Speech said they wouldn’t be back to do ice chip/swallow things with him until Monday. PT/OT will probably come in but at a different time than usual since we’re in a different part of the hallway. Rounds will also be at a different time. (They’ve basically moved him to the healthiest patient section of the ICU, so I guess that’s a good sign, in spite of yesterday’s barf apocalypse?)

I know that it will hurt
I know that it will break your heart
The way things are
The way they’ve been
And the way they’ve always been

And it sounds like they’re still waiting for a bed to open up in Select. He can’t go to UF Health Rehab until he can chew and swallow, and he’s been okay with chewing the ice chips but out of the two times, one time he was able to swallow and one time they had to suction the water out – so while it does seem like he CAN swallow, it’s difficult, and until he can reliably swallow enough to take pills, he can’t got to UF Health Rehab. He’ll have to go to Select, be worked with there on swallowing, and then moved to UF Health Rehab. I know, it’s convoluted and frustrating.

People shallow, self-absorbed
See them push and shove for their rewards
When nothing else is on their minds
You can read about it in their eyes

As usual in the morning, he’s just sleeping now, gathering strength for when PT/OT come by.

Zamboni sighting!

Before I forget, these are the things I was trying to remind myself on the drive in to talk about — the parking lot guy, how that short term disability is coming along, and … and … shit, I’ve already forgotten the third thing. Oh! Oh! I had an almost functional conversation yesterday with Seagull Sarah! But first, let me tell you about my heart failure coming in this morning (I feel like today’s post may turn into a long one….). Oh! Oh! And also, the Vancomyacin. I’ll do that one second.

People ruthless, people cruel
The damage that some people do
Full of hatred, full of pride
It’s enough to make you lose your mind

OK, so this morning, when I came up and picked up the phone to be let into the unit, I could see through the window in the door that both of his big glass doors were open. Usually they only do that when (a) there’s a medical emergency so as many people and machines can come and go with ease as is possible or (b) they’ve taken him out of the room for a CT or MRI. So I said who I was and who I was here for, and I got the typical “just a moment” and then… the doors didn’t open. And they didn’t open. And a minute went by and they didn’t open. Then the housekeeper saw me, and opened the doors for me, and said “Hey! Did they move your husband to a different floor?” and my eyes went as wide as fucking saucers and I’m not sure but I think I teleported to the nurse’s station and just said, with very wide eyes and a very clipped tone, “Where. Is. My. Husband.” The nurse looked up curiously and said, “Oh, we moved him.” We stared at each other. I kept staring. She kept staring. Finally I said, “And you moved him… where?” and I flourished both arms out like “wellllllll?????” and she gave me a weird look and was like, “down the hall.” Could I have looked any more exasperated? “Does he have. A room. NUMBER.” Then it dawned on her that I had no fucking idea what the fuck she was fucking talking about, and she had someone walk me to the new room. Apparently they moved him overnight, didn’t call me because they didn’t want to bother me with something so inconsequential and scare me at 3 AM, and then… forgot to call me at shift change at 7. So everything is fine, nothing is wrong, it was basically… a staffing issue.

I tell you what though, that was a little over an hour ago and I don’t think my heart rate is quite back to normal yet.

I know that it will hurt
I know that it will break your heart
The way things are
And the way they’ve been
Yeah, I know that it will hurt (I know that it will hurt)
I know that it will break your heart
The way things are
And the way they’ve been

Real quick though — remember, like a thousand years ago, when we knew he had Endocarditis but didn’t know for sure the strain of Staph yet so they put him on Vanc, and then said as soon as they figured out what strain it was, they’d put him on a specific antibiotic for that strain, and he’d have to get daily injections of that for six weeks, so I’d better learn how to do the injections? And it turned out to be the Vanc, the antibiotic that was best for him, so while he’d already been on it almost three weeks, they set the clock for six weeks. Well, that six weeks is up on Tuesday. That’s right. He’s been in here long enough now that I don’t have to learn how to do the injections. Because he’s almost done with the six weeks of therapy. Hell, in two more weeks after that, he’d be medically cleared by his heart surgeon to be able to sit in the front of the car and/or drive! I mean, we all know he needs more stroke recovery before he can do that, but still. He’s been in here long enough now that the things I thought we were going to go through on his discharge, aren’t even things that I’m going to need to concern myself with. And he’s still not done.

Don’t spread the discontent
Don’t spread the lies
Don’t make the same mistakes
With your own life
You know it’ll always come back

I don’t think I got a chance to say, but the parking lot guy found me the other morning. He was ticketing another car when he saw me drive in, and he followed me. Before you get upset, he was following me to apologize! That’s right, he did now have me on his list of people OK to park there, he was very sorry he scared me by giving me a warning, but that I did the right thing by going back in with it and talking to the Information Desk Dude, and he hopes my husband gets transferred soon, and have a nice day. I KNOW.

Yeah, I know that it will hurt (I know that it will hurt)
I know that it will break your heart
The way things are
And the way they’ve been

You know what? I’m going to save the Seagull Sarah conversation and the Short Term Disability drama for tomorrow’s post. This is already pretty long, and to be honest, I’m already a little tired today. That whole “WAIT WHAT WHERE THE FUCK IS MY HUSBAND” thing really took a couple of years off my life.

xoxo, y’all.

This day made me so tired. Most days made me so tired.

Don’t spread the discontent
Don’t spread the lies
Don’t make the same mistakes
With your own life
And don’t disrespect yourself
Don’t lose your pride
And don’t think everybody’s
Gonna choose your side, oh no

Lyrics by Natalie Merchant
Break Your Heart