Here we go again...

The hospital has just rung.

The skinny one has a pre-admission clinic on Monday, and is booked in for surgery on the eighth of July.

Fingers and toes crossed that this is the last surgery for him, and that the care he/we receive is much, much better than last time.  It could hardly be worse.

A set back

I should know better than to get complacent.  I do know better.

In the small hours of this morning the hospital decided that the skinny one was dehydrated (whose fault was that?) and that his blood pressure was too low and dropping.  So they decided to do a blood transfusion.

To which he had a very bad reaction.  His temperature shot to 38.9, and he started drifting in and out of consciousness.  The resultant kerfuffle woke the whole ward.  About which I care less than nothing.

Needless to say we gained this information from the smaller portion and from reading the notes which the physiotherapist had carelessly left by his bed.  Hiss and bloody spit.

Tomorrow I am on the war path.  Himself is tired today - but he had just finished the longest walk he has taken since the surgery when I saw him.  He is getting his clear fluids, and also some effective pain release.  Both good things, but my feet are still on that path to war.

A Stint with Stents

We went to visit this morning hoping that either the stents had been removed, or that he was off having them removed.

Wrong on both counts.  He had been told (early) that the stents were coming out this morning, but had heard nothing further.  I had some errands to run for him so we left.

And guess what we found when we returned?  Nothing had changed.  He still had the stents.  He had spoken to his nurse about it, and she said she 'knew nothing' but would follow it up and get back to him.  Deathly silence ensued.

So I went to the Nurses Station and spoke to the sister in charge.  Just for a change - she knew nothing and his nurse had just gone off on a break.  She went through his notes and saw that yesterday his stents were marked to come out.  There were no further notifications and nothing had happened.  'I will have to page his doctor.'  'Please do.'  Are you seeing a pattern here?  She promised to get back to me, and I rejoined the smaller portion and his sister.

He has been walking today.  Yay.  His bed is by the window.  Yay.  He feels very, very uncomfortable and cannot sleep.  Quelle surprise.

We waited.  He had been told he could have clear fluids - but had been given nothing but ice.  We topped up his ice supply.

And then a junior doctor from his medical team appeared.  Yay.  And for the first time we got a sensible explanation about why the stents were still in place.  Those of you with delicate stomachs should skip the next paragraph.

The stents are attached to a catheter.  If the stents are removed, so must the catheter and he will be swollen and sore so the catheter could not be re-inserted without causing considerable discomfort.  He is not walking easily or well at the moment, so having the catheter in place is both more comfortable and convenient for him. 

The medical team will review the need for the stents (and catheter) on a day to day basis.  He is improving so rapidly that they think it will be one or two more days at most.  After a little prodding from me (which caused the smaller portion to squirm) he apologised for the poor communication and promised better in the future.  (I will hold them to that.)

I was on a roll then and asked why if the smaller portion had been told he could have clear fluids he had only been given ice.  More apologies and a promise to ensure that it was rectified by dinner.  More squirming from the smaller portion.

The medical team are very, very pleased with his progress after such a major operation.  Yay.  And off he trotted.

And then the nurse re-appeared from her break and told him that she had been unable to find out why the stents were still in place.  How hard had she tried I wondered - but didn't say.  She too promised to ensure that he got a range of clear fluids - soup, jelly, juice.

We went down to the cafeteria and brought him back green tea - which hit the spot.  And we left, happier than I have been.  He is in considerable discomfort, but is improving.  Hopefully he will become more stable on his feet and then the catheter and the stents can be removed.  And, while the smaller portion did not like me prodding the doctor, it achieved results and I feel no guilt.

Thank you all for your support - and a big thank you to those who visited Mistress Snark's parlour.  I had such a good time.

On the silliness front?  Today I saw off one of our neighbour's cats with a pump-action water pistol  The cat views our bird feeder as its personal smorgasbord.  I scored several direct hits and it scarpered home looking like a porcupine.  I smiled broadly. 

Wine o'clock calls...

An update and a diversion

The medical mayhem continues.  One step forward, then do a reverse flip and half pike.

When we went up to see the skinny one this morning he looked dreadful.  An attractive shade of grey, propped up in the chair beside his bed, attached to far too many bells and whistles.  HOWEVER, the surgeon had been and was very, very happy with the operation.  While we won't know for three months whether it has been a success, early signs are positive.  Yay.  About time too.

The surgeon was so happy with the operation that he decided the stents that were installed in the smaller portion's urethra yesterday could be removed.  Today.  Back to theatre, another general anaesthetic.  Joy and bliss.  We asked the smaller portion and the hospital to ring when they had a time for this next procedure.

When we went back this afternoon we had heard nothing.  Neither had he.  He was still (unsurprisingly) in acute discomfort.  He had been taken for a walk, which was apparently very, very unpleasant.  He was a better colour though.

So I trotted up to the nurses station.  'We know nothing'.  'Please find out.  As soon as possible.  And let your patient know (and preferably me too).'   'We will have to page the doctor.'  'Please do'.  And so they did.

Needless to say the doctor hadn't responded by the time I left.  The smaller portion promised to nag about it every chance he gets.  I would assume that the stents are there until tomorrow.  Hiss and spit.

The smaller portion rang a little while ago - very down.  The stents will be removed tomorrow morning.  More hisses, and more spits.

*********

And now for the pleasant part of my day.  My silly side is strongly developed.  When Mistress Snark invited me to afternoon tea in her parlour, I was very pleased to accept.  There is  a teaser below - and I would be very happy if you would join me for afternoon tea with Mistress Snark, Jezebel and ...

Afternoon tea is a most civilized British invention – an opportunity to snack with impunity. However, in Mistress Snark’s parlor, you never know what might be floating in your tea or what those cute little sandwiches are hiding under the bread.