Scary Being in Charge I was excited for Don to come home from the hospital, today. But I was also a little nervous about taking care of him, without a buzzer connected to a nearby nurse! Scott and I prepped the house a bit. I gathered pillows and Scott moved some chairs. We pondered where our patient would be comfortable. I grabbed the antique school bell. We have no buzzers in this house, but when I was a kid we sometimes rang the old school bell when we were sick. Silly, but oh well. Scott is Responsible (and Negative!) Scott left the hospital and headed home, while I got Don dressed and ready to be discharged. Scott texted me from home, with the good news of a negative test. Four days before, he'd taken a rapid test after his flight arrived. Negative. Whew. He took another today, since an infection from travel, could take some days to show. Negative! I so appreciate having a responsible and vaccinated son, since Don's immune system is extra compromised, from open heart surgery. Yikes! I'm not sure what we would have done, if the second test had been positive. But after 6 days of talking to Don through masks, it was a relief to know all 3 of us would see each others' faces at home! Homeward Bound It was around 5, when I rushed to get the car and meet Don at the curb in the wheelchair. He held the heart pillow over his chest, to remind himself not to use his arms. I held the backdoor open, like a chauffeur and helped him get in cautiously. I wonder how many patients refuse to follow the backseat rule? I mean what are the chances of us having an accident? But those airbags would definitely ruin all that surgical work. I don't want to think about that. I'm happy to follow rules right now. So,I will be the driver for 4 to 6 weeks? I don't mind, but Don might. Right away he asked quietly, why I was turning right. "I'm going to take Sweetwater..." I began, then laughed. "So, you actually are a real backseat driver now!" I'm not sure he saw the humor, but he did realize it was his first time in that backseat. Ribbon Clipping Ceremony In this photo, Don is unshaven and his shirt is wrinkled, but he looks pretty darn good. We were home just a few minutes before Scott clipped off those plastic bracelets. I was thrilled to see that Don needed no fancy chair with pillows. He was fine on the couch. He was able to get up and down without putting his wired ribs at risk. But he was exhausted and not hungry. Scott ran out and got him a milkshake for his aching throat. (Still hurting from tubes)
Now What? A week ago, we worried over the scary surgery that loomed ahead. Then for days, we focused on the tasks in the hospital. I hardly allowed myself to think ahead to the 8 weeks of recovery. I'm worried now about being in charge of Don's care, even though he's doing so well. I'm worried mostly, about facing the first night. Will he be able to sleep in our bed? But for this very moment, I'm relieved he's home and feeling incredibly proud of this guy!
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My Teammate Today is Don's 5th day in the hospital. I feel so lucky that Scott was able to come and help out with his dad... and me. I just wish we could be together, while we cheer Don on in his room. Here we are today, doing a proper changing of the guards in the courtyard... Methodist Hospital Style. Pandemic protocol allows each patient to have only one guest in the building at a time. Guests must be masked and tagged with a bracelet. Yesterday we weren't the best rule followers. I was supposed to check out and get my tag snipped off, before Scott checked in. Oops! Ignorance was bliss yesterday, when did our tag-teaming (and waiting) in a quiet lounge area, just outside of Don's room. Discharging? This morning when I saw Don at 8 am, he looked much better than when I left him last night. Dr. A. came by 9 and gave us the good word, that Don would be discharged later in the day. I looked over at the flowers and grinned. They didn't even get a chance to wilt! I was excited to get Don home so soon, without beeping machines and without the interruption of nurses. I was scared to get him home, where we had no beeping machines and interrupting nurses. Evening By 7 pm, I was still in the hospital. Once again, I said goodbye to Don when visiting hours ended. He wasn't ready to come home. He was back on an IV, with heart regulating meds. It could be a couple more days. Frustrating, but we were relieved that he was in good hands. I felt more relaxed leaving Don on his 5th night. After 50+ hours in that hospital, I was finally feeling less anxious. Don seemed more like his old self. He had enjoyed watching football when Scott visited. When I spent time with Don, I listened to him chat with the nurse about Thai food and what she was going to do on her day off. It felt more relaxed. It was frustrating that we 3 couldn't be in the room together, but in some ways that probably worked better for Don. Saturday Night As I headed downstairs, I looked at the empty cafe at 7:15. Was I the last visitor of the day? It looked eerie, all empty. I couldn't wait to get back to the house. I headed home, feeling glad that Scott would be waiting at home. I've been grateful for his support. It's been nice having him home after 3.5 years, even if it's under these worrisome circumstances. Flowers & Cookies When I walked in the door, I saw that someone must have dropped off some goodies for Don. "No, those are for you Mom." Scott smiled.
Sigh... I'm not sure yet, who is feeling most supported by Scott's visit. Don or me? Don & Heidi Don has been a dad for exactly 35 years. Today is Heidi's 35th birthday. I know it makes him sad that he can't just hop a plane and celebrate with her. But that wouldn't be happening anyway. Unfortunately, we're used to long distance birthdays. Yesterday, Don's voice was finally strong enough to talk on the phone. (That darn sore throat from the breathing tube) He called Heidi last night to wish her an early Happy Birthday. I heard Heidi say, "You sound great Dad! I'm proud of you." It wasn't his usual voice. I'm sure she could tell. But her positive voice was the perfect medicine for her dad Don and Scott We live across country from both our kids and spouses. That's sad for birthdays, but it's also sad in times when we need to support from each other. Those Covid days... or cancer... or coronary bypass surgery days. Heidi was able to come home for my surgery 5 years ago. Scott insisted he come this time, to help with his dad. It was so much easier when these kids were small and living at home. Wait a minute. It wasn't so much easier. But I still miss those times. Airport Pick up Yesterday, I left Don at 5:30, to pick up Scott. Don was having some issues and I was torn about abandoning him. Chills and shaky... heart palpitations.. The nurse assured me, but it felt wrong to leave. Usually I hate the hour drive to Bush. But the skies were calming and it felt good to know I would see Scott. His first time back in Texas in over 3 years! We hugged with masks and drove with masks. What the heck is the protocol with visiting a loved one in the hospital, when you've flown and there's a pandemic???? First Stop Actually the first stop, was to pick up Torchy's Tacos. Scott's comfort food. Then we picked up rapid Covid tests. No one has told us how to handle this visit safely. We've all been vaccinated, but there's no perfect way to be safe, when you've traveled on a plane. In 15 minutes, we cheered. We knew the negative test was not 100%. And we knew it was too early to feel cleared from the plane travel. But Scott had another test to do in a couple days. Sharing Duties This morning, I panicked a little when Don texted that he was on an IV again. I rushed over before Scott was up, but Don was fine. We got him out walking the hall again. We watched some TV and enjoyed the weather through the window. All was fine, so I dashed home to pick up Scott. Purple Chairs Suddenly Scott and I were able to take turns with Don-time. I also knew there might be issues with how the 1 visitor rule worked. I suggested we not ask too many questions, or we might find out we weren't allowed to be in the building at the same time. We worked it out with the purple chairs outside Don's hallway. Our changing of the guard chairs. I wish I'd been able to see Don's face when Scott walked in. I know it was a relief to see his boy. I relaxed on the purple chairs until Scott came out. That was usually when Don needed something that Nurse Beth was better qualified for. Helping him get in and out of bed or into adjusting all his pillows. It's all trickier than it sounds. But how wonderful to have our boy home for a week, to add a lift to our world. Literally. Scott's going to move some things around at home for us!
It's so much easier to heal when you have love and support from near and far. Don's not a Sad Dad right now. Good-Bye ICU It is Day 3 in the hospital for Don. He got moved out of ICU at 9 last night! The room still feels dull, like a hospital and the view's not the most spectacular. But we can see the sunshine and trees. Better than the ICU window, that looked towards the windows of the COVID unit. Flowers and Stuff The room feels blank, with no color. But I was finally able to bring stuff from home. It's no fair when you have surgery on your birthday and you can't have a card or flowers in your room. There was a comfy couch and a recliner, too! The Sloth Along with Don's birthday cards, I brought him a very fine sloth. I ordered this sloth (holding a heart) on the internet, a few days ago. I thought he would be a cute mascot for Don. I didn't realize the hospital would give Don his own heart shaped pillow, just like the sloth. Teaching the Sloth Don had to show the sloth how to properly press the pillow against his chest, when he needs to cough. Don is a very good teacher.
Strict Hospital It's my second long day at the hospital. I'm feeling glad that Houston's Methodist Hospitals have vaccine mandates for staff. I'm glad they communicate their Covid protocol. When your hubby has just had a bypass, the last thing you want is covid in the family. There are signs telling visitors to wear masks, but the signs are hardly needed. Every single person wears a mask in the hospital... because honestly, none of us want to be that person on the stretcher, being carried to the Covid ICU. Communicating in Masks I'm getting used to keeping my mask on for hours and hours, but sometimes communicating with masks is exhausting. Especially when accents are involved. Going for a hall walk with 5 million tubes, is complicated enough. But trying to hear instructions through masks is extra stressful. And some staff are double masked! But, thank goodness the ICU staff is the best. They have learned to speak loud and clear, through their masks. I just feel sorry for patients who are hard of hearing, or don't speak English. Communicating with Friends and Family The nurse yesterday told me to not fret over communicating with EVERYONE! She told me to designate one person, to share all the info. Well that works great if all your people are connected. Mine aren't and I've never liked group communication. I played the "Telephone Game" too many times as a kid. Stories change... Yesterday, I just figured I'd let it be my job, to communicate with family and friends, while Don was in surgery. I grabbed my thermal coffee mug and stepped outside to make some phone calls. Tip: Bring a really good thermal mug to the hospital and fill up at their Starbucks! I did have one major communication failure. For two days, I've tried continuously, to reach my Dad. I spoken with him daily for 18 months, during the pandemic and I knew he was concerned about Don's surgery. Why wasn't he picking up? Added stress. My sister finally determined his landline was unplugged. Home They booted me out of ICU at 7 tonight. Don had finally gotten his chest tubes out and was awaiting a hospital room. I had to leave him before transfer. It made me sad. I got home and walked down to the mailbox. I stopped to see the sky and lake. I needed that. It's just my second night home alone and it still feels weird. Especially because I still have Don's cell phone. He's not really up for dealing with calls. It felt so odd not to be able to text him to see if he was okay. I forget how dependent we are, on our tech communication.
But as I settled into the quiet house, I thought back to yesterday's converstaion with Don, right after surgery. I grinned to myself, knowing I would tell him the funny things he said later, when he could appreciate. "Did they get the number of the truck that ran over me? They really put me through the ringer... I've got strips on my gown. That's perfect for Sugar Land." "What?" "You know. The prison..." I'll share with him later! Birthday & Surgery Day What do you say to you husband, when you both wake before 5 am on the morning of his heart surgery? I said, "Happy Birthday" and we both softly chuckled. An hour later we were sitting in the waiting room at Sugar Land Methodist. The world felt too early and too serious, to push Don into wearing a birthday party hat. My Mascot I did convince Don to hold my donkey mascot, though. Ms. Donkey went with me to my lumpectomy surgery and chemo and radiation treatments, 5 years ago. Silly, but it worked for me. You do what you need to do. But what does Don want? Don was a perfect nurse/buddy, during my months of cancer. But we're different people. Different needs. It's going to be tricky figuring out what Don wants in the way of support. Do I play cheerleader or tiptoe gently? I have to read him, I guess. And ask him. Did he read me all those months? He always seemed to know how much attention I needed. He handled my ups and downs beautifully. I worry about my role, with him. Waiting Time It was so tough saying good-bye, when they wheeled Don away. But the nurse said they'd sing Happy Birthday to him in the operating room. I was skeptical. It felt sad to have DON as the patient, the vulnerable one. He hasn't spent a night in a hospital, in our 42 years together. It was scary to think about what actually would happen in that operating room. I headed to the waiting room and found a quiet and calm place corner, next to a fish tank. I read and texted family, then I figured I should educate myself as his nurse. I read the paperwork about his procedure and I cringed and worried. I knew he had been worried, too. I felt relief, when I got a "hospital text" saying the surgery had begun. I knew he was asleep (for maybe 7 hours) and he was no longer worrying. Glad for that. Outside I reminded myself that I was lucky to be at the hospital and not waiting at home. In recent months, hospitals didn't allow family inside, due to Covid. I can't imagine dropping Don off and coming back to get him in 5 or 7 days. After a couple hours of mask wearing, I took a break outside. It felt good to take my mask off and feel the fresh air. At 12:40, I got a text saying surgery was ending soon and the doctor would speak to me in the waiting room. Faster than I'd expected! Don in ICU By 1:00, I was in the waiting room, listening to a promising report from Don's surgeon. By 2, I was greeting my groggy hubby in ICU. So many tubes, so many beeping machines, so many nurses and assistants and doctors checking in on him. I asked, "Can I touch him?" I felt so new to this. I kissed him awkwardly in my mask and pulled up a chair next to his clunky bed. I searched for a part of Don, that wasn't covered in tape or tubes. I sort of neurotically stroked that one part of his arm... then asked, "Am I annoying you?" I laughed awkwardly. "No." Don answered, with a voice I didn't recognize. I told him that was good, because it was really comforting to me. I realized how hesitant I was with my new role. Should I stop talking and let him sleep? Am I in the nurse's way? Is someone going to tell me how long I can stay? Sweet HEART Eventually I settled in, feeling less worried about how right or wrong I was doing things. I jabbered casually when Don was alert and I studied my surroundings when he dozed. What an amazing place. All these things and all these people, attending to my ole sweetheart Don. And then there was that crazy pillow, with the veins and arteries. They showed Don how to clutch it to his chest, if he needed to cough. As Don rested, the pillow sat looking sort of comical, beside his folded hands. The room was filled with complicated machines and pieces of equipment and here was this squishy little pillow, that I could have made at home. It amused me. I needed to see something simple like that pillow, that I could understand. Talking with Staff I started getting used to all the people attending to Don. It made me feel safe to know he was in good hands. I asked how it had been in the past 18 months, during the pandemic. Don's ICU nurse admitted it had been rough during the last surge, dealing with patients who filled the beds, but refused the vaccine. And crowded hospitals... "A woman in nearby Beaumont was rushed here, because of a stomach issue. There were no ICU beds in Beaumont. She died because of the delay." He shook his head and added, "I call that a Covid related death." He reminded me that last week, there was only one ICU bed available at this hospital. Again I felt lucky that Don's surgery had not been delayed. At one point a nurse pointed out the window. (Don's view wasn't the best) The building directly across, was the Covid ICU. I paused to process. Heart surgery is scary, but it's routine, when the patient is healthy. Covid is still a mystery. I am so glad Don is in this section of ICU.
I will try to be the best nurse I can be. Presents Later Tomorrow is Don's birthday. He said, "Let's save these gifts for when I get home from the hospital." That made me sad. I hate when birthdays are tainted by illness or pandemics or accidents or surgeries... FaceTime Party on Sunday But on Sunday evening, we had a 2-hour birthday gathering, with our kids! Before Covid, we never would have thought to do this! Thank you Pandemic, for teaching us how to connect with our faraway family! We had the best time talking and sharing and laughing... and yes, singing. Baby Charlie clapped along when we sang Happy Birthday. Birthday Dinner on Sunday Don was wise enough, to know he wouldn't much enjoy birthday dinner on Monday night... the night before his "birthday surgery". So I made him spaghetti and meatballs for Sunday. Might as well. Who knows what diet restrictions will be in the future. And Cake! Don blew out his candles, while he wore his sushi shirt. I didn't ask him to tell me his wish. I'm glad we celebrated a little on Sunday. Monday was blah as we anticipated Tuesday's surgery. Don went to pre-op. I met the plumbers at the house. We got all our other house renovations put on hold. That's what you do in times of Cancer, Covid, Coronary Bypass... You adjust and reschedule and refocus.
Tonight was quiet. Don watched a little Monday Night Football. We are both ready to get tomorrow behind us! Meeting the Surgeon Don and I met the surgeon the other day. The autumn wreath greeted us. We headed in, knowing that we would probably leave with a decision. An angiogram a week earlier, showed that Don could go either way, stent or bypass. I saw that wreath and knew our fall focus would be pretty different, if we went the route of surgery. 8 weeks of recovery for that. In the Office Don and I showed up in masks. We showed our phones to the receptionist, so she could see we'd done our Covid questionnaire. I hate the idea of hospitals, in times of Covid. We waited in the examining room together. We kept things light and even made jokes about the ugly heart model that decorated the counter. But we had a good and serious talk with Dr. A, for an hour. He penciled Don in for bypass surgery in a week. Don signed some papers and we both laughed nervously together. "I feel like we just sighed up for a timeshare." Dr A had made us feel relaxed and confident and convinced... but it all happened too fast. More Help Lucky for us, we have family that can help us with decisions. The next day, our nephew discussed the details of Don's case, with his cardiology team at Stanford. Don and I are feeling much better, knowing that many people have weighed in and all are in agreement about the bypass decision. It's not what we planned this fall. We'll have to juggle the calendar and cancel a thing or two, but we feel grateful. Don looked pretty cheery last night, with this baby glass of wine.
Cheers to Don and cheers to living in one of the top medical communities in the world! |
Not-So-Happy List
Cancer, Covid & Coronary... I started this complaining list/blog, in May 2016. I posted 200 gripes about my breast CANCER and then I was done. On March 13, 2020, I started venting all over again, when another disease (starting with a C) interfered with my life. This time it was the invasion of COVID and it affected every person. I ranted for a year, until I got my COVID vaccine in March 2021. CORONARY Artery Disease was the reason I restarted this blog on September 26, 2021. This time it was my hubby Don, who was dealing with a worry that started with the letter "C". Coronavirus and Cancer, Coronary Artery Disease! All are evil, but none can totally get me down... if I vent! I usually end up feeling a little more positive at the end of each post! Navigating This Mess! The most recent post is at the top, from coronary posts in 2022, back to cancer posts in 2016. To find past posts, look below the "Archives" section, to find "Categories". Archives
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