After Amanda went back for the wound surgery, I hung out for a while at Hopdoddy, eating lunch and chatting with Brett till the afternoon. It was a good distraction instead of being worried about Amanda being gone. I still hadn’t heard anything from the OR, so by the time I got back to the room around 3, I was getting concerned. I asked the nurse about a status update, but nothing. Then, when I sat down and really crunched the numbers, she’d been gone for 7 hours. The nurse came in not long after I’d talked with her and said there was a delay, and Amanda had just gone back. I was livid. Amanda had been sitting down there by herself without her phone or anything! She said she told them to update me, yet they never did. They could have at least let me take her phone to her or sit with her.
I’m to the point where the little things are really nice. Going to Hop, there is a limb on the walk about halfway there that I’ve had to duck, dive, or dip around for the last 3 months. Well, it’s trimmed now, and I was elated! I’m not so lucky with the height of the 2nd-floor skybridge in the hospital, though. If I step wrong in there, I’ll graze my head. I could use another skybridge on our floor, but I need someone to swipe me through. What I really need is a key card around here; if I’m going to keep getting parking tickets for being an employee, they might as well issue me a badge!
It wasn’t an hour or so after they OR nurse called to say they’d started when an Aussie-accented plastic surgeon gave me an update. With the low white count, they didn’t feel comfortable doing the muscle flap surgery, which would have required a larger incision in the wound area and others to get the muscle loose. He said they stitched things up and added some “fix-a-flat.” She had a 50/50 shot it would work, he said, also mentioning he was cautiously optimistic.
I waited around hoping to see Amanda and get her some food before dialysis. Well, that didn’t happen. They whisked her away right after the surgery to dialysis. It was after 7 when I got word, and I gave up, going to the apartment to eat some leftovers from the cheesecake factory I had stashed in the fridge. Before I left, I got a good laugh, though. Over the intercom, they called a Code Walker, an escaped patient. The announcement was “Code Walker 6’ male hospital gown, black shirt, IV hanging from neck!” I was sure I was going to see him smoking a cig when I left. That’s where most of the escapees are headed, to get a puff!
I waited up, thinking Amanda would get back and I could bring her something to eat. I called the night nurse around 10:30, the time I was sure she was back, but nothing. I gave up and got in bed, but I wasn’t going to sleep till I knew she was back on the floor at least. It was close to midnight when I got confirmation that she was back, and I promptly crashed afterward. I was up early to get breakfast and head in. I got Amanda’s favorite tacos on the way. Instead of the egg, hash brown, and refried bean taco I ordered, we got a brisket taco. Amanda didn’t like brisket tacos when we ate meat, and it had some spicy pico on it, so it was a no-go. I was pretty hot and was going to drive back until I realized I’d miss rounds. So I got an egg soufflé from Panera. I called the restaurant about the issues, but it was too hard to get through, so I found their contact button online. Que the fiddle, I told them how the taco we didn’t get was Amanda’s favorite meal after transplant, and we didn’t get it, and I couldn’t leave! I also mentioned that we loved the spot, and the crew there was great as well. I got an email back not long after; they refunded my order and sent a gift card as well. I wasn’t expecting that, and as I told them, I just wanted the correct taco.
I didn’t waste any time Thursday morning. After Amanda ate, I got her up and walking. Her groin was sore and hindered her walk. I couldn’t get the normal lap out of her, but she still did pretty well. I didn’t want to push her hard, but she still needed to get moving. She needs to move more, and I want her to be up and either standing at the sink, doing chair exercises, or walking one or the other at least four times a day. I really don’t care if she’s not a fan either; it’s whip-cracking time if I need to. I’ll be the bad guy if necessary. We’ve got a long way to go, and the PT is severely lacking here. I just found out she can’t do the cardiac rehab on the machines like before transplant because of the dumb contact precautions that only 50 percent of the nurses follow anyway.
There was a scare not too far down from our room, a stat call over the intercom. I knew who it was, a younger lady who’d had a lung transplant, whose dad I had chatted with quite a bit. One day, the daughter had seen us playing on the Xbox and told him to ask us about getting their Roku up and running. He came to the door and prefaced his question that he was told not to just come barging in, but to ask and not demand. He probably needed the reminder, his daughter thought! Our open curtain and door have been his invitation to come by and chat with us many times. I’ve come to stop in the hall and chat with him a good bit. His name is Dan, like Lieutenant Dan, he said. The scare came from their room. After the stat call, I walked to the door to look. A mass of nurses and NPs were growing outside the door. It was the first stat call on the floor I’d heard. In the ICU, it seemed like daily, many I would find didn’t make it. We had two of those calls amongst other urgent calls to the room in the ICU days. It’s a horrible feeling being a caretaker in those times. You want to help, but you’re the least qualified person in the room to do so. I kept looking out the door down the hall to see if Lt Dan was outside. I wanted to go and pray with him. Those rough times are hard to know how people react, but that’s what I felt I needed to do. I never caught a time in the chaos to do so, though.
Afterwards, I got a rundown of what happened later. She had an NG tube placed and ended up having an aspiration and needed to be intubated. It was touch-and-go, especially for this floor; they don’t handle these urgent calls often like the ICU teams do. When I still didn’t know what’d happened, I saw them whisking her off to what I’d later find was the OR to place a trach. I thought it was to the ICU, and I knew he’d need to move their belongings. So I cruised by the room a few times to see if I could offer a hand, but the curtain was drawn and the door shut. I didn’t feel right bothering him, but I wish I had. I’ve been behind a closed doors and curtains before after an event like that, and I know the feeling, and I’m pretty sure I could offer comfort. With all that happening, it brought back memories of our rough days in the CVICU. Later on, when he was moving things, I helped lead the way for him, eventually taking a buggy of their stuff to the new rooms and bringing it back, saving him a couple of trips. He was a mess, a little scatterbrained anyway, he was all over he place as I helped him move. He’s a talker, a talk-to-the-wall kind of guy. As he was giving me a rundown on one of our walks to their room, he’d see someone and say, “Hey, I know you,” chatting with them while walking, then give me a side story or two eventually coming back to the update on his daughter. It would take my brain a bit to follow and a few sentences to figure out what story we were on! I’ve come to like him, though; we have a common bond with caretaker similarities. His daughter’s name is Laura; they could use some prayers as they navigate their recovery with the addition of a trach.
It was farmers market day, so I went to get lunch. Amanda had a ribeye quesadilla and some veggie sambusas, an Ethiopian pastry. When my mother would make hand pies, she’d always tell me a story of coal miners eating them, half savory, half dessert, all in one pastry. She’d go on to say every culture has its form of a hand pie, from empanadas to samosas, to calzones, to sambusas, and on. Never fail when mom would make a hand pie or any other version, I’d get the story. I like memories like that, reminding me of my parents. After the eating and memories, I thought of an idea that made me mad I hadn’t thought of earlier. I kick myself for not thinking earlier of how I could have been selling food at my own booth at the weekly farmers market. With the prices they charge for everything, I could have made decent money, I thought!
Amanda had a super low white count. They’d stopped some meds to help it go up and also gave her a shot. She ended up having a fever during the afternoon, and my heart sank. The last really low white count she had, combined with a fever, was when the leg infection came in. She jumped straight to her knee, looking at it and feeling it. The stitches had just been taken out a few days before, and it was without a bandage. She said it was hot and was worried. I mentioned that the fever worried me, given a temp over 100, and the low white count. The nurse nodded in agreement, she said she’d already paged the team. I felt Amanda’s knee; it was warm but not much more than the other. It was a little splothy, and I was worried. I had to calm her down a bit and say we aren’t there, it’s not warm, and the splotchiness had been there. I told her sternly we’re not doing another knee surgery, and the damn hardware stays. Amanda agreed and said Yes, the nurse kind of chuckled in the background! We didn’t need to jump to any conclusions. I was a bit worried, but I didn’t let Amanda know; however, I was praying. The nurse took another temp later on, and it was normal; all the fuss for nothing!
The plastic surgeon, whom I thought was an Aussie, came by to chat with us. He explained the wound was left open, which was a surprise to me. I didn’t remember him saying that when we talked on the phone. The plan was to close it early next week, provided the drainage remained minimal and there were no complications. Good news, but I knew it would be late, not early, next week before we would be discharged. We just keep getting pushed back. The surgeon’s accent didn’t seem Australian in person, but I didn’t feel he was from the UK either. He was black and had dreads, not the big ones, but the smaller ones, and they were medium length. I liked the look. After he left I was talking all of this out, putting each piece together, and telling Amanda. I’m sure I annoy her by doing this, and she said to Google him! I wanted a firm hypothesis first, though. Putting everything together, I figured an eastern Caribbean island somewhere was where he’d be from. After a quick search, I found his MD was from the University of Antigua. Mystery solved!
The rest of the afternoon was filled with walking and playing Xbox. I thought I had Bev lined up to come, but there was another Thursday I was going to be gone that we confused with. It wasn’t a big deal. I was going to go to the range for a bit with Brett and then watch the Cowboys game afterward with him somewhere. I only had a lane reserved for an hour for us to shoot, so I planned to go and just come back after we were done shooting, since Bev wouldn’t be around. I was good to get out and shoot. I had never been to an indoor range; I’d always just gone to the ranch. We had a good time; I don’t think he’d shot too much before, so I was showing him a few things. The range was about halfway to the apartment, so I knew the area and picked up some dinner from a nearby Cracker Barrel on the way back to the hospital. We made one more walk after dinner, then I got Amanda tucked in to bed and left. The Cowboys game was weather-delayed, so I caught up with Brett and watched most of the second half with him. I rarely watch any sports, but it was nice to get out and talk.
When the team was rounding on Friday morning, they were on board with getting us out of here when plastics approved. With the wound being open, it still needed to be closed, and that would happen Monday through Tuesday. They have grand rounds with all the lymphatic specialists on Monday, and will discuss Amanda’s case and come up with a solid plan then. The team was even mentioning a Wednesday discharge, but I’m not holding my breath. I think it’ll be next Friday at best.
Dialysis was up, and I was going to make sure we got our walks in early. So, we were up early for a walk, and PT came an hour after to work with Amanda. She did well, and I even got one more walk out of her before going back for dialysis. Everyone is glad to see Amanda in the halls, many cheering Amanda on, especially all the PT and OTs. We got back to the room on our first walk as the team arrived. The cardiologist was happy to see her up and commented on how well Amanda seemed to be getting around with all she’s been through. That didn’t keep me from making a jab about how she needed to get out of here and to the rehab hospital.
I’d put in for a “hall pass” to get us outside on Thursday. They needed to get a wheelchair for us, but it never showed up. I was vocal with the nurse on Friday morning, we had the same one. I also really laid it on when the NP asked how it was outside. I told her about the issues, and she went to talk with the nurse about it as well. Finally, a wheelchair showed up. I decided it would be good to go outside for lunch, and Amanda agreed. So we went out and grabbed some Panera and sat outside to eat. This time, Amanda was the one wanting to stay. She was falling asleep, but still wanted to stay out longer! We spent over an hour outside.
Once Amanda went back, I went to dialysis in the afternoon. Dan had wanted to get together at Hop, so I went down there and waited for him. He ended up wanting to come about the time I was leaving for a chiropractor visit. My favorite chiro is a newer guy at this location. I’d only been seen by him once, but he was the best at that location for me. I’d already had a visit earlier in the week, but it wasn’t a good one. With the better chiro working, I went to get a good adjustment. He worked me over pretty good, commenting on the machine gun sound pops coming from my mid-back. All the lifting Amanda up is really working on my back.
Another chiropractor had recommended a massage parlor in the shopping center. I still had some time to get one with Amanda back in dialysis. They did chair massages and had short 20-30 minute sessions. I didn’t want to get undressed and deal with oil all over me. The first thing I like to do after a massage is take a shower, and I wouldn’t have time for that. So their short clothed massage was perfect. I really didn’t know what I was signing up for and ended up getting a 30-minute face-down back neck and leg massage on a table. The short, older asian lady worked me over pretty good. About halfway through, she ended up on the table, knelt down with the full weight off her small upper body, going through her elbow into my back! I was pretty tense and needed a good working over. I have some really tender spots to the touch on my lower back that I have been noticing during my chiro adjustments. The muscles must have been knotted up there because she really worked hard on that area. I almost had to cry uncle when she brought her bony elbow to them. I hurt when I left, but it was a good sore, and I felt good afterwards.
While I was getting the massage, Dan had texted saying he was at PF Changs for happy hour. I was going there to pick up our dinner anyway, so I stopped by and sat at the bar with him while I waited for our order. We chatted for a while, and I got intermittent updates on his daughter as he talked with the lady on the opposite side of him. Whether she was ready for it or not, she heard about Jesus as Dan and I tag-teamed her with our testimonies! After I heard Amanda was headed back to the room we left, Dan rode back to the hospital with me. He walked with me to our floor, and we got all caught up on each other’s patients. After I made it to our room, he made his way back to his daughter, who’d already been texting that she wanted him back. I knew that feeling. He seemed really glad I had stopped by. I think he needed an ear that would understand things.
Amanda and I ate after she finally showed up, and they got her missed evening meds. She got down more than I had anticipated. I asked if she was hungry after dialysis or if it was just something she liked, and she said both. The meal I got her was a kids’ meal, but it was still a big portion. It’s within walking distance in an area I don’t typically walk to, but I’ll probably be making it over there a bit more, now. After we ate, I got her ready for bed and headed out, but it was after 10 by the time I left. I had to take care of a few things at the apartment before I went to bed, including dealing with insurance stuff. I had to wade through and see what I needed to actually send payments for, and what I had already sent payments for, since I sent everything off early. I had found out earlier Friday morning that the insurance was back active. Seems the fire I lit with United Healthcare burned through some of their red tape. So one less thing to worry about holding our discharge.