May 20, 2005: A story in 5 parts….stay tuned!
MAY 20, 2005: PART 4 (of 5): BACKGROUND: My husband, Rex, has been on oxygen for 6 years, the result of 35 years of smoking and emphysema. He’s down to 14% of one lung, and he’s been on the list for two months.
When we left off…Midnight and into May 21, Saturday. You are in 4a, ICU, resting well … You’ll sleep tomorrow and take out the ventilator on Sunday unless you are really super tomorrow…. I get to see you briefly asleep, covered, with oxygen and ventilator in ICU. Then I go and pass out at Mason House.
Saturday, May 21 (YES, SATURDAY!)
9 a.m. Dr. Pelaez calls me to say they are going to bring you around! Already??? I rush to shower, take a muffin, and get to the hospital on time! Your eyes flutter. The ventilator is still in. But I tell you it is JUST the next day and your eyebrows go up in surprise! (Later I learned that you feared they hadn’t done the surgery.)
I quickly find the Golf Channel for you so you’re all set there! (NOTE: Rex was frustrated on a ventilator earlier when he couldn’t ask me to find the Golf Channel in his hospital ICU bed!) You manage to communicate a couple of requests, but have to write KOFF in my journal. You have muscle spasms of pain in your stomach randomly. They put in a standard epidural for pain. You are foggy all day.
By afternoon, they take out the ventilator! Wow! Less than 24 hours. Your new lungs are working with 2 litters of supplemental oxygen. You can suck up to 500 on your new rehab toy. Only ice allowed—no coffee.
I take off and walk to Everybody’s pizza—1/2 a small pizza and a beer while I called folks. Get a take-away Greek salad for later. So I got in a small walk. Back to sit and read my novel and nap from the chair with a pillow at your side.
5:30 – 9:30 p.m. I left. Got a few things at Publix (turkey, cheese, corkscrew, Tide, Kleenex, Bayer. Took an hour on screened porch at Mason House to read the paper (searching for obits of young person near ### Hospital—can’t help myself) and sip red wine. Lovely. Then an hour’s nap and back to your side. Left you ready to sleep at 9:30. I read, ate some salad, and fell hard asleep.
Sunday, May 22, 9:00 a.m.
You had a lot of pain last night and had to argue with a nurse to get pain pump. Then it wasn’t right. Took three hours and you were frustrated, but at least you could talk and get what you needed. Control is yours!
This morning they had you up in a chair and you were carrying on in your booming voice when I arrived. Full of teasing, getting tomatoes and strawberries for nurse Ann, even ate scrambled eggs, toast, and milk from someone’s unused breakfast! You are fully you! You tell me you are breathing very well. Ann says you won’t need your green blower—cough will come naturally. Dr. R. and others are all just tickled with your progress! You are deservedly proud of all your hard workouts that make you strong now.
11:00 a.m. Dear Ronnie has come–with six-week-old wedding pictures of her new husband and her–to give you a healing touch massage. I know you are sleeping deeply and pain is flying out of your whole self, making room for pure healing.
I find your living room down here on second floor of Emory Hospital—leather, rugs, bird paintings. I sit in the sunshine listening to Gordon Lightfoot—thanks to your I-pod. Chat with three people: a man’s wife with pancreatic cancer in ICU three weeks. We are so blessed! Ah, what life do we have ahead, my love? What a miracle? I don’t even dare to dream past today—this is enough for now!
11:15 a.m. I come back to your room. Dr. Pelaez removes the canula from your nose and says, “You don’t need this any more.” And you didn’t! That’s all there was to it! Your oxygen stayed at 95-99 all by itself! Blessedly Ronnie is there for the experience too. How special to share it with her! You tell us of how you’d beat death flying in Vietnam, but when Stacy (6th floor nurse in Athens) told you you would die within a year, you beat through your denial, and you thought, “I can’t beat it this time….” But you are here! I have the 6th floor number at Athens Regional Hospital and just left a message for Stacy. I love sharing our joy! Unfortunately, there won’t be anyone for you to tell (sorry). Pastor Pam called from Chicago; Angie L. made the announcement at church.
You’re resting while I have lunch downstairs—salad, banana earlier during your massage. I’m finding I like frequent small things versus a meal. We’ve talk of my going to Athens for a doctor’s appointment and to get stuff tomorrow. You may get into a room as early as today! Things are moving fast!
2:30 p.m. Peg, Jim, and Bob F. stop in as they leave Atlanta meeting today. You call me as I drive Jim and Peg to airport: room is ready!
5:00 p.m. You move to 586 B South! Wow! Talking a mile a minute and loud, you think because you have so much more oxygen. You call Aunt Jere, Uncle Ken, and brother Steve.
6:00 p.m. Beeper says your pain meds are low. Only one IV left and 4 tubes to drain incisions.
You are calling everyone: Bill and Betty both are in the hospital: she with heart problems, Bill with broken ankle trying to help her. So try Susan. Then Dan. It’s such fun to share! Then Steve D.…
6:15 p.m. We share our first un-oxygenated dinner: turkey and gravy for you, ham and cheese sandwich and chili for me. I still keep staring at your nose: when will I ever stop being amazed?
Amen!
