Confidence Booster

I was a bit alarmed when they sent us home from the hospital after only 8 days.  They were talking about 3 weeks.  But they said that I can do the same or better for him at home.  Are they right????

Well, I can "check his vitals" just like they can.  No big deal.  I know better than they do what normal for him is.  I can give him meds and oxygen just like they can now that he's off IV antibiotics.  I can feed him.  The biggest difference is: I'm one, they are many.  

And the hospital bed.  That thing requires a college level course in mechanics to operate, but it's way cool.  It can go into just about any possible position.  It's better than a carnival ride!  And it puts Sam in the perfect position for CPT (Chest Physical Therapy).  He needs to be in the right position so that gravity helps his weak muscles get the stuff out.  And you can raise it or lower it to save the Respiratory Therapist's back.  Cool.  

At home, we have an Ikea bed.  VERY low to the floor so Sam can get in and out without falling.  (Hospital bed also has crib rails)  But this morning, I discovered that all you really need for proper drainage is a portable DVD player.  You put Curious George on the floor, press play and Sam scampers over to the edge of the bed, hangs his head over and thrusts his butt in the air and voila! he's in the perfect position for postural drainage.  I pull up a chair and start whacking him on the back.  He giggles.  

Maybe we are better off at home.  I can sleep without fear that six doctors in white coats will hear me snore and watch me drool.  That's gotta be good.

Pneumonia

Waking in a strange place, groggy from too little sleep, I can't remember where I put my glasses.  So bleary, groggy and frustrated, I begin to pat around; hoping I can find them with my hands rather than my feet.  Disoriented, I am not sure where I am, but I know where Sam is.  I don't need to see to find his beloved head and check that he is breathing and the tube is still in his nose.

He is okay.  The world shifts into place.  I remember that I carefully placed my glasses under the couch so I wouldn't step on them.  Now I can see well enough to attach the monitor to his finger and check his heart rate and oxygen level.  Yeah.  He's okay.

I slept on a mat on the floor by the couch.  Sam's sleeping on the couch, the oxygen tube still in his nose.  I'm in my own living room.  I remember Charley carefully not stepping on me as he went to work.

Time for tea and then I'll start his nebulizer treatments again.  I have to give the first one before he wakes up in order to get enough in each day.  He's not eating, I have to try to get him to eat something before 2.  He takes his next pill at 4 and he can't have any milk products between 2 and 6.  I never realized how large a percentage of the things he will eat are milk based - even Ensure!

Got a fabulous new cookbook called "I Can't Chew." It's full of nutrition advice and recipes for people with chewing and swallowing problems.  But I'm too tired to read it.  I'm too afraid I'll lose Sam before I have a chance to try all the recipes.  I look at the cover and go back to the trashy novel.  Or knit.  I thank God for yarn and trashy novels and tea when Sam is sick.

Two nights ago, I was sure he was sick enough to be admitted.  But, since I've been through this so often, I knew it was better to wait for the doctor's office to open than to call or visit the ER in the middle of the night.  You wait in the comfort of your own home instead of in a cold, hard waiting room chair.  But I couldn't sleep because I was so worried.  So I started packing my overnight bag.  At 8:45 I called the office, at 10 the doctor called me back.  After listening to my experienced, coherent report, she said, "Well, it sounds like you have everything under control.  I'll call in a prescription and, if he doesn't turn around in a few days, you should bring him in."

Under control?  I wouldn't describe it that way.  But it's a new day.  I found my glasses without the aid of my sight.  The tube which feeds air into Sam's lungs didn't get wrapped around his neck and strangle him in the night.  I don't have to think about what to wear, I'll just grab something from the overnight bag still sitting on the chair.  Himmat taught me how to make good strong Indian Chai recently.  On the whole, it's going to be a good day.