In the past two weeks we have accessed the health care system too many times for my liking.
Can you believe these pictures were taken only one day apart? After the first picture was taken (Monday morning), we went to see Brent’s surgeon, who took the stitches out, told him he was doing great, and told him he would be back on the bike in 6 weeks. The second picture was taken Tuesday evening, after Brent had been admitted with two DVTs in the left leg. Boo.
Notice the left foot in the picture above. Tragically, this episode has totally reaffirmed my hypochondria/worst-case-scenario mentality. When his foot started swelling, thoughts of DVTs began swirling around in my mind. I silenced them with the memory of calling my mother at school once, midday, when I was convinced (per the medical encyclopedias we had) that I had an intestinal blockage….and then that time I diagnosed the mole on my right arm as melanoma based on pictures from the internet and worried about it obsessively for weeks until I could get in to see a dermatologist…..oh, and that time I thought maybe I had undiagnosed cystic fibrosis based on the fact that we had just studied it in school. You name a serious medical condition and the odds are good that I have seriously considered that I might have it or get it. This is a girl who, as a child, would sometimes even sneak in to her parents’ bedroom in the middle of the night just to make sure that they were both still breathing and who was forced by said parents to stop checking “Body Noises” (a book about gas, tears, yawns, vomit, sneezing, etc) out of the E. G. Fischer Public Library (it was listed on my summer reading list twice because I read it twice - Ironically, I just wanted to make sure I was normal! ha!). All of this to say: I obviously have a track record of unfounded medical scares (and possibly a serious mental illness). You can perhaps understand why I was uncertain about my concerns regarding Brent’s leg. Turns out that my gut feeling was right this time.
On Monday, the doctor looked at his foot and said it looked just like maybe fluid build-up because it had been immobilized for so long. However, it continued to swell throughout the day and on Monday night I blurted out: “I’m afraid its a blood clot.” before searching “symptoms of a blood clot” on Google, which is funny because I have looked up this very topic before, back one time when I thought I might have blood clot in my leg (turns out it was just tight shoes). On Tuesday, the swelling was so bad that his sock would hardly fit his foot, his foot had turned a gray-ish purple color, and it was cold like a block of ice. He called the doctor and asked for a scan after a nurse friend of his advised him to do so. Not one, but TWO blood clots in the leg. Scary.
One thing we have learned during this hospitalization is that once you check in to a hospital, you leave your dignity at the door. They asked Brent about his last bowel movement right in front of several female coworkers, including his boss. I never thought I would see the day that bowel movements were a subject of daily conversation. His male PCA asked him if he wanted a sponge bath (which he refused, obviously), and he has to lift his gown up twice every single day for a shot in the abdomen. No fun. But perhaps the most shocking thing I have seen during this hospitalization is the BEDPAN. Seriously? In this day of pacemakers, prosthetic limbs, and robotic surgery, why have we made no advances in elimination options for the bedridden? This same apparatus is what I suspect bedridden cavemen used!!! “Seriously?” That is exactly what I thought when the nurse brought the bedpan into Brent’s room. Brent took one look at it and said “Um, NO.” That’s right, he flat out refused, accepting the risk of a blood clot fragment to the lungs or heart from traveling to the actual bathroom rather than use the bedpan. I can’t say I blame him. A urinal is one thing, but a bedpan is…..just barely civilized.
One other major thing we have learned is that a hospital is not a place where you can expect to sleep. I resolve never, ever to wake a sleeping patient up again, ever in my life. Not only is Brent sleep deprived, I am sleep deprived. If I sit still in the same place for 20 minutes, I will fall asleep. Every time I wake up I feel like I have been hit by a train. I have never felt exhaustion like this before in my entire life, even those days when I have stayed up for an entire 24 hours at work or while studying for finals during school. You know you are sleep deprived when you weep over the third verse of “Proud Mary” while driving home. Yes, the Credence Clearwater Revival Song. I also cried in the hospital lobby when the change machine wouldn’t take my money. Clearly, tears are indicative of sleep deprivation. They did not teach me this in “Body Noises.” Hopefully he gets to come home in the next two days. When he does, I am going to sleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
There are lots more stories, but this is way too long and I need to go to bed!
