Today Stew was visited by his friends Tim and Jake. Tim was telling Stew about the awesome pizza he and Jake had tried over the weekend, and how delicious it was, and how they highly recommended it, when Stew stopped him. "Y'know, I haven't had any food at all for over a week," Stew said, "and you're talking about pizza!" Tim apologized and then said, "Here, have some ice chips."
Yay. Ice chips. Boys. Fortunately Stew's still not in any sort of condition to make Tim regret tormenting him like that, but in the end it doesn't really matter, does it? It doesn't matter because every day Stew is getting closer to eating food. Today it was water. Tomorrow, broth and tea. After that, who knews? Before too long, a pizza. He had an evening walk to the nurse's station. They're considering what equipment he'll need when he goes back home -- the hospital bed that had been in his room for months was returned when it was never used, but now it'll have to come back, at least for a bit. A minor inconvenience. At this point, I know he just really wants to go home. And before long, he will.
Monday, March 31, 2008
March 31, 2008: 3:45 pm
The nose tube is out! The diet is clear liquid! He's starting to walk! And he sounds so much better. Well, of course he does, he's no longer talking with tubes up his nose. And get this: he feels better!
Things are progressing well, I think. He's watching L&O (an activity of which I heartily approve), glad to be able to start taking in sustenance, and sounding like his old self again.
Things are progressing well, I think. He's watching L&O (an activity of which I heartily approve), glad to be able to start taking in sustenance, and sounding like his old self again.
March 31, 2008
Just checked in with our favorite patient -- this is not normally a topic I would share with others, but considering he just had part of his intestines removed, I think the fact that he's having trouble getting any sleep because he's been up with bowel movement problems since 2 am merits a mention. Things are starting to work.
Sunday, March 30, 2008
March 30th, 9:44 pm
What does one do in the hospital? Other than sit quietly and wait for release? I don't know, and I bet Stew doesn't know either. When I talked to him tonight he sounded bored. And tired. Bored and tired. Of course, he can't have any electronic equipment in the hospital because it could be stolen. Aren't hospitals great?
He had a pretty horrible morning, what with leaking IV and the accidentally pulled out tubes. Ouch, I still say. I've offered to go down there and beat up the hospital staff if necessary, and he says he wishes I would. I should have asked, first of all, if they're bigger than me. I may need reinforcements. Fighting isn't really my thing, after all. I'm not exactly what one would call . . . skilled. Or ept. My only real chance is in falling on them, a valuable skill I learned in Aikido before I dropped out.
Anyway, so he's not feeling so good, but he's feeling better than he was. I tell him it'll be over before he knows it and he'll be able to go home. I tell him these things, but I know 10 days in a hospital can seem like a year. I've spent a day or two in the hospital before and it always seemed an eternity. He's still only sitting in a chair for periods of time, not even doing the walking thing yet. How fun. Not.
I told we were going to San Diego in July for a wedding. He said, "a wedding and a funeral." I said, "we aren't going to any funerals this year, or next year, or the year after." He said okay. I know at times he's been so miserable he wished it would just end, but it's just not time yet.
Not that I would know, I'm just saying.
He had a pretty horrible morning, what with leaking IV and the accidentally pulled out tubes. Ouch, I still say. I've offered to go down there and beat up the hospital staff if necessary, and he says he wishes I would. I should have asked, first of all, if they're bigger than me. I may need reinforcements. Fighting isn't really my thing, after all. I'm not exactly what one would call . . . skilled. Or ept. My only real chance is in falling on them, a valuable skill I learned in Aikido before I dropped out.
Anyway, so he's not feeling so good, but he's feeling better than he was. I tell him it'll be over before he knows it and he'll be able to go home. I tell him these things, but I know 10 days in a hospital can seem like a year. I've spent a day or two in the hospital before and it always seemed an eternity. He's still only sitting in a chair for periods of time, not even doing the walking thing yet. How fun. Not.
I told we were going to San Diego in July for a wedding. He said, "a wedding and a funeral." I said, "we aren't going to any funerals this year, or next year, or the year after." He said okay. I know at times he's been so miserable he wished it would just end, but it's just not time yet.
Not that I would know, I'm just saying.
March 30th, 10 am
Called Stew about 10 this morning. His dad answered the phone, then put Stew on. He hasn't been having a very good day. His IV was leaking, apparently all over him. Then when a nurse came to fix it, she slipped and fell, and in the process the tube going into his nose was pulled, or jerked, out. Ouch. It sounds more like hospital slapstick than taking care of sick people. He's still recovering from the latest assault to his person, and his dignity, and asked me to call back in a couple of hours.
Saturday, March 29, 2008
March 29, 2008
Talked to Stew on the phone. He said he'd tried to call me but got a busy signal. That's odd -- he should have gotten my voicemail. Then again, those hospital phones . . . I've given him my personal 800 number, and told him he can call it anytime.
He sounds tired. Well, duh, he just had major surgery, lost part of his intestines and part of his colon and his appendix and . . . he doesn't remember what else they told him. Has other things on his mind. Said the doctors found what they expected to find -- pile o'cancer. But there was something in his voice that was different from two days ago, back when he'd been dreading the surgery because, well, hell, surgery is to be dreaded, is it not? He'd never had surgery before, and before he went in I'd told him it was not nearly as scary as it sounded -- they'd give him something, he'd fall asleep before he even realized it, and when he woke up, it'd all be over.
I didn't tell him that was the easy part. One thing at a time. Now comes the recovery, a part of I've never particularly cared for myself.
Something was different today. Relief, I think partly. Relief that the surgery part was over, and that they'd taken out most, if not all, of the intestinal cancer. Of course, there's still the liver, and there's nothing to be done about that, but one thing at a time. This is what's been making him so miserable, made him unable to eat, made him vomit seemingly continuously.
Time for the next step. The recovery part.
He sounds tired. Well, duh, he just had major surgery, lost part of his intestines and part of his colon and his appendix and . . . he doesn't remember what else they told him. Has other things on his mind. Said the doctors found what they expected to find -- pile o'cancer. But there was something in his voice that was different from two days ago, back when he'd been dreading the surgery because, well, hell, surgery is to be dreaded, is it not? He'd never had surgery before, and before he went in I'd told him it was not nearly as scary as it sounded -- they'd give him something, he'd fall asleep before he even realized it, and when he woke up, it'd all be over.
I didn't tell him that was the easy part. One thing at a time. Now comes the recovery, a part of I've never particularly cared for myself.
Something was different today. Relief, I think partly. Relief that the surgery part was over, and that they'd taken out most, if not all, of the intestinal cancer. Of course, there's still the liver, and there's nothing to be done about that, but one thing at a time. This is what's been making him so miserable, made him unable to eat, made him vomit seemingly continuously.
Time for the next step. The recovery part.
A Successful Surgery
He made it through surgery, sans some intestines, but who really needs all their intestines anyway? Being impatient and not thinking clearly, my normal state, I called him the next day. He answered the phone, and said he'd been better. His parents were there, so I said I'd talk to him later.
So there he is, with tubes going in and out, in pain, barely able to speak, and there's his ex-wife, calling him to ask, "So, how you doing?"
I am so thoughtful.
I talked to his mother lately. They'd had him sitting up already, for an hour or so. He was weak when he went into surgery, he's been so sick for so long, yet there he was, sitting in a chair.
So there's that. Surgery completed. Maybe back to chemo later on. But first things first -- recovery from the surgery.
So there he is, with tubes going in and out, in pain, barely able to speak, and there's his ex-wife, calling him to ask, "So, how you doing?"
I am so thoughtful.
I talked to his mother lately. They'd had him sitting up already, for an hour or so. He was weak when he went into surgery, he's been so sick for so long, yet there he was, sitting in a chair.
So there's that. Surgery completed. Maybe back to chemo later on. But first things first -- recovery from the surgery.
Thursday, March 27, 2008
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