He is home...

Thank you so much for all your supportive comments and emails.  They have meant a lot.

On Wednesday I went to visit.  He was on oxygen, a drip, and had a catheter and a drainage tube installed.  They had just promoted him from ice and water, to clear fluids.  And told me that they intended to send him home the next day.  The drainage tube could be removed some time next week.

Lemon-lipped doesn't begin to describe how that made me feel.  Ballistic with anger/disbelieving/teary/overwhelmed.  All of the above.

I considered simply refusing to come in and pick him up.  With no money, no clothes and no keys it would have been interesting to see the hospital's solution.

Somehow the idea that it might be a touch premature percolated into their grey matter.  So they kept him for Thursday, subject to review on Friday.

This morning, they were balanced on the fence.
 ' Maybe he can go home, maybe we will keep him for another day'.  'We will take out the drainage tube and see...'

When I went in at the start of visiting hours, the drainage tube was still in place (draining freely and copiously).  He was still on oxygen and he still had a cannula in his arm.  He had been told his diet was unrestricted.  Progress of a sort.

It took three staff to remove the drainage tube.  When they let me back into the cubicle they were telling him that he would need to keep a careful watch to ensure that it didn't become infected, back up with fluid behind the incision, ooze pus, become painful (more painful?), become red and swollen...
'If it does any of those things you can see your general practitioner.'
 'There is a three day wait to get in to see her.'
'Oh, perhaps in that case you could ring the hospital...'

Which we most definitely will.

Over the next hour they took him off oxygen and put him back on it.  They made him walk and cough.  They removed the cannula.  They took him off oxygen again.  And announced he was free to go and that they had someone coming into his bed shortly.
 'And if you wait downstairs, we have prescribed medication to go home on.  The wait might be several hours...'

He was already an attractive grey colour, so I negotiated for the ability to pick up the medication for him later in the day and got him home.

When I rang a couple of hours later to check they assured me the medication was ready, so I went back in.  They lied.  It was nearly ready.

There are still quite a number of unresolved questions.  He has an appointment in the surgeon's rooms in four weeks time.  At that appointment we will not be fobbed off with flunkies, or given a scanty 75 seconds of the important man's time.  I will get answers, and I will indicate deficiencies in the treatment he/we received.  And, if necessary I will go further.  And further.  Which will make the skinny one cringe.  Tough.

On a much nicer note, over the next few days I hope to be able to visit your blogs again.  Thank you again for your support and your patience.  It has meant a lot.