Out! Sprung! Paroled! Free and Clear! The docs decided to let me go today, and by
late afternoon I’d made it home. I drove
myself there and, with no narcotics in my system at the time, I could also drive
myself home. The trip home was not
without a little drama, mind you, but I got home safe and sound none-the-less.
I’m tired, but doing better. There are vestiges of the offending cough
left, but it’s not a constant thing anymore as long as I'm mostly quiet.
Some of the meds have temporary weakened my voice and I’ve got a kind a
sing-song whisper-thing going on. That will
likely be with me for a few weeks. I’ve
got bruises at my IV site, bruises at my “lab draw” site on the other arm, and
bruises on my belly where the blood thinner stuff went in. “Blood thinner stuff” – Lovenox, I
think. Normally I try to be a knowledgeable
patient and know every last little thing I’m getting by medical name, along
with what it does. I’m sure I heard them
all, but I was on a LOT of stuff. The
nurses and aids were quite efficient and when ‘service’ time came it was kind
of like the NASCAR pit crew coming over the wall: BP, temp, O2 level, inject, more
IV bags, pills, “Squeeze my fingers”, “Take deep breaths now”, “Can I get you
anything?”, ”Get some rest!” (See my Friday “View from the Hospital Bed” for the
straight skinny on rest in the hospital.) They did take so good care of me.
I’m looking forward to a night without vitals, labs,
injections, therapies, and an IV power-filling me up and urging me into an IV
tree ‘skip to my loo’ waltz (I know, I know, “Skip to my Loo” is not a waltz,
but I’m trying to be a little genteel here. Just go with the mental the
picture.) every 90 minutes. I think that
will go a long ways towards catching me up on sleep.
Normally, it would have been a 30 minute drive home plus
the time at the pharmacy to get my meds.
Alas, it was far harder than it needed to be. I could tell when I got back to the pharmacy
counter the folks were having a bad day, it was very busy, they were a more
that a bit surly with a current customer, and I’m one more schmuck with a big
stack of scripts that need to be filled before I leave the store. One Rx – naturally, it was the one for the
narcotic – was not written quite correctly. Close, very, very close, but not
perfect. Not their fault, but they weren’t
in a mood to help me get it worked out. “You’ll
have to take this one back to the hospital.” I’m getting a bit worn down, but I did.
The nurses were appalled I get sent back but filled in a little more
info, and apologizing for the error, sent me on my way. At the pharmacy the same
crew, still savoring their ‘mood’, looked over the paper. Still not right, “Take it back!” This time I
got an accompanying rant from the pharmacist himself about how the DEA was going
to put all our butts in jail if he even tried to do anything with this. So I did.
Time out for a mother-in-law story: Hang in there, it
fits. When one of the family wasn’t feeling so well the comment from Mom was, “You
look like you’re not feeling very well.” All fine and appropriate. If it was obvious you were feeling really
rough it was, “You look you’ve been dragged through a sick cow backwards!” Now if you really weren’t all that bad off before,
listening to that little description alone was enough to get you there. (End of detour.)
By this time I was starting to look like, well, I’d been ‘dragged
through a sick cow backwards’ and the nurses at the hospital got fired up. One of them picked up the phone to the
pharmacy and by the time she was done I started to feel a little bad for the
ranting pharmacist. She made a small change to the script and I was on my way,
hoping the third time was the charm.
When I got there the first surly pharmacy tech was
quietly working away on someone else’s order, the pharmacist came over as soon
as I walked up to look things over and, with his blessing, the paper was
whisked off to the front of the cue. 10
minutes later I’m finally on my way home.
So here I sit, comfortable in my recliner, very glad to
be home. I thank God for modern
medicine, caring nurses, and even surly pharmacists. It’s good to be home and I feel blessed to be
here.
Col. 1:9-12,
Mark
