My usual pattern here is to post the content from my Patreon on a two-week delay cycle. But things have been a bit jumbled over the last couple weeks, which makes the posts a bit jumbled. We have had some medical drama, and the post below is what appeared last Sunday at Patreon., written on Thanksgiving day. My regular schedule will resume soon.
Images From a Hospital
I’m sitting outside a hospital room, waiting for my husband to go for a stress test. He is asleep right now, and that’s why I’m sitting outside - to let him sleep. If the test goes okay they will let him out, but my hopes are not high. I am scared, stressed out, and a little frantic. I don’t know what we will do if they don’t release him. It’s the kind of nightmare you never want to live.
But I have some observations that aren’t related to him, and maybe writing about them will let me take my mind off him. Although now that the nurse is talking to his roommate I am afraid they will wake him.
This is a big city hospital, with all the issues that come with it. His last hospital visit was in a regional medical center in a university town, and he was in the cardiac unit. The rooms were large, he was in a private room most of the time, and we were insulated from most of the activity. Sure, the nurse’s station was a bit noisy at shift change, and there was some activity in the halls, but it was mostly pretty calm.
The activity here is constant. But beyond that is the type of patient they are dealing with, and the issues presented. And I am seeing stuff that is sad and scary and distressing.
A few minutes ago the nurse was talking to Steve’s roommate and the conversation centered around getting him a “placement.” I take that to mean that he is either homeless (a definite possibility) or is not capable of going home without a caregiver and that he lives alone.
In another room two therapists are talking to a woman with hearing loss (so the conversation is loud) about her limited mobility, and assessing if she can move from bed to chair, etc. without help. Apparently the problems are long-standing, so she’s already figured out a lot of adaptations, and they are being very encouraging. But they are also giving her breathing exercises.
Then there are the isolation rooms. As we walk the halls - walking helps Steve control his anxiety - we see the rooms with the red tags next to the door “Isolation Protocols.” Doors are kept closed, there are disinfectant stations outside each door, and no one goes in or out. Except the medical personnel. I watched this morning as a pair of techs suited up in masks and ventilation hoods, disposable gowns and gloves. They loaded a small tray with the supplies they would need, because they couldn’t take a standard cart into the room and bring it back out. Their demeanor, the calm familiarity of their movements and expressions, their casual conversation and banter as they suited up, all spoke to how commonplace the situation has become. They moved quickly, then stepped into the room with the scary red sign next to the door.
On Steve’s ward at least two patients are screamers. Not that they are abusing the staff, or yelling AT anyone. They just yell. Continually. I have been here since a little after 8, it’s just past noon now, so about 4 hours. One patient has literally been screaming since I got here, and Steve says this has gone on all night. Her voice is so raspy, so hoarse, she sounds like a bad imitation of Gilbert Godfried crossed with a crow and turned up to 11. She has literally screamed herself hoarse, to the point she cannot be understood, and her vocalizations are more growls and screeches. It’s heartbreaking and terrifying, and my heart goes out to the staff who don’t have the luxury I do of walking down the hall where the noise isn’t as intense. I can’t imagine how she can even still make any noise, as damaged as her throat sounds. Given that it’s a hospital, they keep the doors open if at all possible, so you can hear her across the ward. Right now I am sitting in a little waiting area while Steve is in for his stress test and it is near her room. It’s a break from the confines of his shared room, but it’s close to her room and it isn’t helping my nerves much.
The other screamer is around the corner from this one, and he isn’t as loud. But he does yell a lot and the constant din must be unbearable for the staff.
Steve says the turmoil, the screaming, the constant noise and movement kept him up most of the night. He’s feeling traumatized and stressed by the situation and the chaos around him is not helping his mental health. He walked around the ward between the central nurse’s stations and the rooms that surround them, finally coming up with the title Circling Bedlam. Says he wrote 1,000 words between 4 and 5 in the morning, then managed to fall asleep. He was asleep when I got here, slept until 10:30 or so, and they came to take him for his test just before noon. He’s been gone about an hour, so maybe it’s time to wander back toward the room.
Steve did not come back from the stress test. Instead they sent him to the cath lab for a workup and then to ICU. There are several arterial blockages which need to be fixed one way or another. After three days of increasingly bad news, stress, and terror - we went from “I think I’m having an anxiety attack” to “open heart surgery” in that time - we think there is a plan. The doctors believe they can do stebts (yes, plural) and they are going to try and schedule him for Monday. If all goes well he will be released in about 24 hours.
We are still in Las Vegas (should have been home tonight or tomorrow) and dealing with things like not packing enough meds - or clean underwear - but out hotel has been exceptional about extending our stay and offering us deeply discounted rates. We have a tentative route home planned, and the possibility that someone can meet us partway to share the driving.
We are fortunate to have willing cat sitters, insurance, resources, high limit credit cards with no significant balances, and the flexibility to stay here for another week. We will survive, though our finances will be a bit bruised.
Thanks for reading this far. My apologies for the interruption in my usual feed. I certainly hope we can get back on track Real Soon Now.