Stir Crazy

Today, we officially hit the hospital limit before you go crazy; we are both ready to get out of here and are stir-crazy! The plan is still to discharge us tomorrow, but I highly doubt we’ll make it out of here by then. As much as that pains me to say things just aren’t lining up to get out of here tomorrow, and being Friday, that’ll likely push things to Monday.

I spent a good part of the morning dealing with insurance. We added the Yukon to our current policy to the tune of way too much, so I’ve been shopping. Looking for new auto, our home policy, and the downtown place that is still in my mother’s name. I finally settled on the company we have our homeowners policy with. I was finalizing coverage for our cars, an adjustment for our home, and the coverage for the downtown place and its many outbuildings. It was a task; I was explaining to Amanda all the changes and how our home policy would cover some of the downtown property that we use for storage. She said you’re just making my head hurt!

The ID doc came by and said nothing new was growing on the culture, just the staph. The plan is for us to come back just before Amanda’s birthday mid May. This will be just as the antibiotics will end and when the wound vac should come off. I’m not sure if they plan to remove the PICC line and wound vac at that visit, but I hope so.

Amanda needed some emotional support fries, so she sent me to the Chic-fil-A in the Children’s Hospital. Believe it or not, I hadn’t made that trek from St. Lukes before. Years ago, we went from the connected towers across the street but hadn’t been back because Amanda doesn’t like seeing sick kids; who does? I knew how to get to the Children’s lobby, which was on my long exercise walking loop in the pre-transplant hospital days. From there, it was on the 3rd floor, but that’s all I knew. I saw a security guard and asked if the rest of my plan was right, and she confirmed. There were so many turns to get there that I thought I wasn’t going to find my way back! 

So many people were in the food court, most waiting to get some of the lord’s chicken! You could only order from a kiosk; the drinks weren’t a problem with the first odd request, no ice. We get more bang for our buck that way and just get ice in the nourishment room. The no-salt fries weren’t an option, and the lady screaming out the order numbers scared me, so I didn’t ask! This was the least “my pleasure” Chic-fil-A I’d ever been to. No salt fries are our go to because of the sodium sensitivity with fluid retention for Amanda and even myself with our diet. This is also a key to always getting fresh cooked fries.

The PICC line is the latest problem; it should have been placed yesterday. They usually do it bedside, but Amanda’s SVC problems scared the tech. So, he refused and referred her to IR, interventional radiology, to place it. With IR placing it, we are still waiting; most other cases will come before her since we are a low priority. The funny but frustrating thing is the issue he was worried about don’t exist anymore and were fixed with the transplant.

I got a call early this morning that the windshield was done, and the Yukon was ready to pick up. I hesitated to leave, waiting for wound care to come by and change the dressing. I waited about as long as I could and left close to 4. The Uber driver was supper chatty and put me up front with her because I had long legs like her, she said! I mentioned how Amanda and I had joked that I should have done Uber while in the hospital with her. Also how we have a black SUV, so I could do the Uber Black, a higher-level Uber service that makes good money. We’ve used them a few times for date night. They are 4 to 5 times more expensive, but it is similar to a limo service. They get out and open your door and are a lot more professional, not your typical Uber driver or car.

After I picked the Yukon up, I stopped by a local auto parts store I’d used before. I bought a battery from them after Amanda’s transplant and borrowed tools to install it. I wanted new wipers for the new windshield. We don’t drive new vehicles, but I won’t compromise on a few things. I buy top-of-the-line batteries, tires, and windshield wipers, replacing them all well before they are due for a replacement. Just as I finished installing the wipers I received a text from Amanda that wound care had arrived to change the dressing.

I hurried back to be there for the change, thinking I would miss it, but they hadn’t even started. The doctors said he would be there for the dressing change, but he wasn’t there yet. Amanda refused to let them touch her until she received the promised better pain meds, so they were waiting for another doctor to call in the order. The wound care tech did start taking off some of the bandages holding the vacuum line down. She was initially mad, Amanda mentioned, because they had to wait a while for the pain med to be called in. She ended up being pretty nice, though. The surgeon finally showed up to look and said it did look good, and he was happy with it.

If the bandage, almost the size of a sheet of paper, coming off didn’t hurt enough, the sponge half the size of a tennis ball stuffed in her chest did! It was bad coming out, and I still can’t believe how deep the wound was, at least an inch. I know she has a ton of scar tissue, and it was swollen, but still. I kept feeling my sternum and thinking, how could the tissue be that deep? They say the first change is always the worst because they overstuff the cavity and go overboard with the bandage size. This whole process was rough but not nearly as bad as I thought it was going to be. 

After all of that, Amanda needed some more emotional support french fries! As I was walking over the sky bridge, I got a text from Amanda, Maybe some hummus? As I walked into the Halal place the lady asked, a side of fries? Yup, and some hummus, I said! So I came back with fries and hummus, then some pita chips from another place we like, and Starbucks refreshers.

It was pizza for dinner tonight from Mod. So I went and created two veggie-loaded cauliflower crust pizzas. I had recently downloaded their app, so I grabbed a free mini cream-filled chocolate cake as well. 

It’s really not looking good for getting out of here tomorrow. I’d say a slight Saturday possibility. Or at least I want to hold on to that in my mind. We’re both getting more stir-crazy as time drags on. So maybe it’s just the hope of getting out of here I’m trying to hold on to. But deep down, experience tells me we’re not leaving until Monday.