Last night, I waited forever for my regular bus, but it was running behind. While waiting at the transit center, I sat beside a guy, and we chatted. He was waiting for his wife to get off work, catch a 40-minute bus ride to the transit center, and hopefully catch the last bus to where they live. He didn’t want her to walk alone in case she missed the bus. He still had at least an hour and a half to wait for her when I left.
I abandoned the regular bus and caught another that dropped me closer to the apartment but only ran every thirty minutes. The driver, who I’d ridden with before, asked me how tall I was. I told him 6’6,” and he said, “You one Paul Bunyan-looking SOB!” I chatted and joked with him the whole way to my stop; he was a hoot! As we were leaving, there was a guy he wouldn’t let on the bus. He told him you slept all the way down here. I’m not taking you back!
When I woke this morning, the first order of business was to give Tank a bath. He needed it for his itchy skin. I’d already had some medicated shampoo, so I quickly passed on the expensive one the vet offered yesterday. I needed him to smell good and look his best, too t; his mom was coming home! I had to drag him and the bath mats he dug into across the bathroom floor to get him in the tub, though! So, that prolonged my arrival to the hospital.
I was late getting to Amanda but still beat all the doctors. The first to arrive was the hospitalist. He had already heard the plan and was ready to help get us discharged. I thanked him for the ample supply of pain meds and mentioned how much more straightforward and helpful the delivery was, too. I had them change our regular HEB pharmacy to a Walgreens that was within walking distance from the apartment; I’m hoping I can walk through the drive-through with Tank in tow.
Amanda’s light was on; she needed pain meds when I walked in. Then, the hospitalist came and went, but still no nurse. The team followed the hospitalist, as did the nurse. The plan was to discharge us today since everything was stable. Amanda’s weight was the same, and her kidney levels were down. So we got the official you can go home. That would be the first of many hoops we’d need to jump through.
By the time the nurse gave Amanda her morning meds, they were over two hours late. When everyone had gone, and Amanda looked at the cup of pills, none of the diuretics were there. That is the sole reason we were here in the hospital. I went searching for the nurse. I was not happy about the late meds and was livid about the missing diuretics. The nurse from yesterday, our favorite one, was checking on me as I searched the halls; by then, the meds were two and a half hours late. She finally came in and said she couldn’t scan the Bumex and had to go get the Torsemide. She went on and on. I finally said “We don’t need excuses; we need meds!” The Bumex was on hold, so I promptly called to get a PA from the transplant clinic. The nurse finally investigated why it was on hold. It turns out the night nurse put it on hold for who knows why, so she gave it. Amanda was, of course, sweet, but I was still mad; good cop bad cop! We’d have caught it if she’d come in on time and not when the team was there. I was a pill with the nurse the rest of the day, too!
As I got on my bus home to grab the car, I sat in the middle seat next to a mother and son. I was wearing my Raise a Hallelujah pullover. The mother said your shirt has me singing. I explained the connection between the song and Amanda. We talked all the way to my bus stop. Her son was a patient at Children’s with heat issues on his way to a transplant sooner or later. She asked if we had found a church here in town and recommended one not far away that had a ministry specifically for people relocated for medical care. They were on their way to a park where her son could play. I wished them well as I hopped off at my stop. I wish I had remembered to tell her about this site, but we rarely tell anyone, even nurses.
As I got to the apartment, I met Sybil, bringing Tank back. I’d had her take him out extra since I wasn’t sure when I’d be back. We chatted for a while. She had a recommendation for me. Tank hasn’t been eating well, not wanting to. I know him, and it’s the new place and the absence of Amanda and Zoey. It’s been too much change for him. She said we might try a taller feeder and mentioned she had been hand-feeding him his food to get him to eat. No wonder he isn’t eating for me; he wants me to hand-feed him! I told her he’d starve cause I’m not doing that. I then picked up a bit and made the bed look halfway decent; I wanted it to look good for Amanda. I still have a few things to do around the apartment, but I’ve got a good bit done, even if it is in pieces. I’ll do a video tour sooner or later to show y’all the place. I did take a few pictures, though.
On the way back, I grabbed some lunch for us. We ate and then waited for our discharge. I had no hope of getting out at a decent time, and I told Amanda that it wouldn’t surprise me if we weren’t out by shift change at 7 pm. They came in with discharge orders and said Amanda would be keeping the central line. The nurse checked the date on the line, and it was due to change at the week mark on Sunday. So, she had the charge nurse change the dressing. We knew him well; he was the regular day charge, and I’d already told him the good news of us leaving. I asked about flushes and heparin for the line. I knew we’d need both, and we hadn’t heard from anyone about supplies being delivered or a home health nurse being set up. We had to wait the rest of the day to figure that out.
The nurse had discharge paperwork and then mentioned we were going to need to do heparin shots at home. I was so confused; we’ve had hundreds of hospitalizations, but not once have we needed to do three time a day heparin shots. I was pretty fired up talking to the nurse about it, too; Amanda had to say, “You’re yelling. Quit yelling!” I was just done with this nurse. She was going over meds for discharge and couldn’t pronounce hardly any, and then, with her thick accent through her mask, you couldn’t understand her even if she did pronounce them right.
After a long day full of a roller coaster of discharge emotions, I figured a refresher was in line. Amanda said, “I wanted to get my own;” she wanted to get one on the way home. I gave it a while; I could see the writing on the wall. We were nowhere close to getting out of there, so I went ahead and said I’m going to get a shaken espresso. Should I come back with a refresher? I knew the answer and got her one, and she stole some of mine when I got back, too. The afternoon barista did a double-take when he looked at the sticker that was printed off. Answering the puzzled look, I said I had to change it up, referring to my brown sugar oat milk shaken espresso order.
Our favorite nurse came by to give us a send-off; she is so sweet. I have a feeling we may see her at Methodist; I think she might moonlight over there. She commented on my pullover, and I made sure to show her the website. Returning later, she took a picture so she’d not forget it. I don’t think we’ve ever told a nurse about the website. Amanda said she would think I was roasting her if she read bad things about a nurse! So when she came back, I said if you see me complaining about a nurse, it wasn’t you, you’re our fav! She gave us both big hugs as she left.
We had been waiting for a ruling from Dr. Nair about the central line. They needed to have a plan for the weekly changes. The floor care coordinator had come by to see what the plan was and was lining things up, and they needed word on that before the discharge. It was a frustrating afternoon of waiting. I told Amanda that the only good thing about it was that we were actually getting out of there.
Early in the evening, a minion of Dr. D Bag (the transplant surgeon) came by. He asked about the central line and wanted to remove it! Amanda expressed concern about whether it should come out since they said they wanted it to stay off the “mab” treatment. There was apparent confusion, and the nurse now declared she didn’t know if we were supposed to go home with it. The frustration mounted after that.
As a transport guy wheeled a bed up, a nurse we’ve never had came by and exclaimed, “You’re going home, yay!” There was more confusion because the transport bed was for Amanda to take to IR to have the central line removed! Then our nurse came in with meds, and the transport guy got antsy; they wouldn’t wait long. Amanda was perturbed because she wanted to ensure Dr. Nair approved the removal. They whisked her away after that.
She wasn’t gone as long as I was expecting, but by the time she returned, I knew we were doomed. It was too close to shift change, and it would be hours before we would get discharged. I didn’t even talk to Amanda once she returned; I knew she was mad about things. So, I just steered clear and continued working on my post. The nurse was still waiting for the doctor to get back about the heparin, too. I’d already told Amanda that if it were me, I wouldn’t take it regardless. We were doing this hospital thing long before the SOP was to give blood thinner shots. She’d never had any issues before and would be more active at home anyway.
It was shift change time, and I was just sure it would be the night nurse who would discharge us. Surprisingly, the day nurse came in to say she was getting the paperwork. She took the IV out and apologized for the confusion. As she went over things, there were a few times I wanted to smart off or correct her, but I just kept my wise mouth shut. She could have said anything, and I wouldn’t have balked at it; I wanted to get the heck out of there! She thanked Amanda for her patience, and then, as she left, she thanked me for mine. I don’t know if that was meant to be a dig at me, but I had no patience today! Or maybe she knew I was actually holding back!
As usual, transport took forever. It was nearly 9 pm before I heard from Amanda that she was on the way down. We’d got the ok for discharge at 11 in the morning. I had dinner all queued up for delivery to the apartment and pushed the order button when we left. All in all, it was probably the worst discharge we’ve ever had. We did have a great celebratory discharge dinner from Cheesecake Factory that ended with cheesecake, so that helped ease the pain of a ridiculous day.
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