When I came downstairs Tuesday morning (was it only yesterday?) I found the bathroom totally ripped apart and The Squire asleep in the recliner. He’d had a bout of projectile vomiting and explosive diarrhea and had taken the time and effort to remove the worst of the evidence before he’d collapsed.
What with one thing and another I ended up taking him to the ER around 10, as he had all of the symptoms of the “thick blood” problem he’d had back in 2015. I stayed with him until 1:00, came home, fed the dog and myself and did a bit around the house – not that you can tell. He called around dinner time to tell me they were keeping him for the night (no surprise there!) and he was going up to a room. I showered and dressed and went back to the hospital, but he was still in the ER, as they were waiting for a bed. Kissed him goodnight, came home and collapsed into bed myself.
When his blood thickens up – and they don’t know why – he can’t get enough oxygen. He gets short of breath, confused, and very, very weak. He’s still on IVs and he thinks they put some blood thinner in the mix. They told him it was to prevent clots.
He called this morning at 7:30 to let me know he was still alive – barely. He hadn’t gotten upstairs until 1AM and it was pushing 3 before people stopped asking him questions and let him rest. He sounded dreadful, but I think that is pure exhaustion. I keep saying hospitals are no place for sick people!
I made bread, went up to do the wash, and stopped at KFC for lunch. Just keeping up tradition, and it was easier than trying to fix something for myself. Hung up half the clothes, tossed the rest into the dryer, and went back down to visit my poor husband. He did get a bit of sleep last night and was dozing when I arrived. He’d had a good dinner – chicken and mashed potatoes with gravy, fresh string beans, and ice cream for dessert. He requested a salad for supper. I’m not the only one keeping tradition! I took two along small loaves of the bread I’d made this morning – no harm in bribing the staff!
He complained yesterday that the nurses didn’t put in a port, but stick him anew every times they draw blood. Early this morning one nurse stuck him four times and never did find a vein. A second nurse came in and got four vials right off the bat. The first woman had left the room, and the second one muttered “That’s the difference between twenty years experience and twenty weeks.” Everybody has to be new once, but, oh! my goodness!
I’ve completely lost track of days and times. I have one errand to run right now and then I am going to come back home and try to get some rest myself. No point in both of us being down.
thisendoftheswamp 