It’s been a rough time this past week and a half, Mike was admitted to the emergency room on the 26th where they diagnosed pneumonia and dehydration. While in the ER they started him on an IV for the dehydration and antibiotics for the pneumonia.
Late in the day he was moved up to a room on the cancer care floor – into what I dubbed the Hilton Suite. It was a corner room with two huge picture windows, and it was intended for only one patient. He never did pull the shades, he wanted to see the sun and watch the ducks fly by. That, incidentally, was interesting. Mike was on the 8th floor so he had a great view of the sky and for some reason the ducks were just crazy around there. A pond near by is kept warm all winter, apparently, so that’s where they hang out and when they’re bored being at the pond they fly around the hospital. Quite entertaining.
On Wednesday we had a conversation with his oncologist about the scans he had recently. There are new mets as well as growth, big and small, of existing ones. The cancer has progressed to his liver and his left femur, some new ribs, and new places in his back. That explains the pain he’s been having that hasn’t been alleviated with his pain meds (the oxycodone and oxycontin).
Late Thursday evening around 11pm or so, Mike was on the commode and realized he had blood in his stools. He notified the nurse who realized it was a very large and unusual amount. Plus Mike said his stomach hurt. Next thing you know there are 4 nurses and 2 doctors in his room to check him, along with a couple of nursing assistants waiting for instructions.
They took his blood right away and found his hemoglobin was 4.4, the normal level is 12 – 16 so clearly there was something going on that shouldn’t be.
I received a phone call at 1:15 am to go to the hospital, Mike was being moved to intensive care so they could figure out what the bleeding was from and to watch him more closely than they could on the cancer care floor.
I was scared to death getting that call. Even though the nurse said the reason they wanted me there was because Mike wanted me there, it didn’t lessen the fear. Though out the rest of the night and into Friday, Mike received 4 units of blood. He told me at one point that he thought he ‘was done’, that he was going to die, he was in such pain, so scared and so miserable. My heart just ached for him. He looked so weak and defeated. That’s not him, he’s a strong willed person so that was extremely difficult for me to witness.
They switched him from his oral pain meds to a morphine PCA pump while in the ICU, that way he could maintain a level that helps him rest easier than requesting his oxy’s as needed. Plus sleeping is easier if you don’t have to wake up every four hours.
While he was in ICU, a couple of family members and friends visited. I was bothered by the fact that one of the family members began talking to me about the book she read by Elizabeth Kubler Ross called On Life After Death. It just seemed so inappropriate at the time. Mike could hear everything she was saying, and it wasn’t as though he was on the verge of death. Here he is trying to recover from this scary episode and she’s talking about death. I understand the point of the book, I’ve seen reviews about it and eventually I want to read it. I was dumbfounded by her actions – I literally was tongue-tied and that’s an unusual thing to happen to me.
I actually attribute the reason she did this because it’s just her way of dealing with everything and perhaps she thought it would help me and Mike. But it didn’t. Mike hasn’t said anything about that conversation and I’m not going to bring it up, what’s done is done. I just hope I am strong enough to next time say, hey, come with me for a minute and ask her to hold off on talking about things like that unless it’s ‘time’ or he asks.
Another conversation that bothered me was with another family member who shared this after I explained what I knew at the time was going on in the ICU:
Her: “Are you ready for this?”
Me: “What?”
Her: “Are you ready for this?”
Me: “Well, I need to be as strong as I can for Mike so I don’t really know if I’m ready. Why?”
Her: “I don’t think he’s going to make it.”
Me: “Oh.”
The thing is, there wasn’t a doctor in the place that was giving me the impression that Mike wasn’t going to make it. But did she actually mean that he wasn’t going to make it that day or did she mean she thought he had only a few weeks? I have no idea, she never elaborated and I didn’t ask. Either way I feel this was inappropriate, too. I mean, give me a flipping break – I am dealing with this 24/7 as best I can. Don’t throw a curve ball at me if you aren’t qualified to do so and can back it up.
Later in the day that Friday (the 29th) they performed an upper GI endoscopy to see if they could locate where the bleeding was. That was an amazing procedure. There were two huge machines that they brought into his room in the ICU, one on each side of him. Monitors, computers, switches and buttons – it was crazy. I didn’t stay in the room for the actual procedure, but they were able to determine shortly after it that he has two ulcers, one in his stomach and one in his duodenum. They immediately started him on some medication for those and stopped his intake of aspirin.
On Saturday, we got him moved back to the cancer care floor. At that point, he was only on a clear liquid diet. He still hadn’t eaten anything other than jello, juice and a sherbet (while in the ICU) since Friday, the 22nd. Crazy, I know.
On Sunday, which was his birthday, my good friend BW brought me to the hospital. On the way we stopped to pick up a bucket of bagels, cream cheese and a huge container of coffee, per Mike’s request. There was a nurse on staff who recently graduated and he wanted all of this for her and the staff to celebrate that, but also to hopefully deflect them making a big deal about his birthday. Nice try, Mike. Didn’t work. 
They wrote Happy Birthday on his write on/wipe off board in his room (this is where they note who his nurse and nurse’s aid is for each shift), every staff member who came in knew it was his birthday so they’d wish him happy birthday and the piece of cake he ordered with his dinner came with a candle on it (unlit – of course) along with good wishes from the server.
He also had a lot of visitors on his birthday which I think was so good for him. He also caught a football game that night in his room with a couple of his buddies.
I went back on Monday and at that time we asked the social worker to start the process for finding a place for Mike to transition to. On Tuesday they found him a room at a facility near where we live. Unfortunately, it took all day long to get everything done to discharge him. The most critical thing was his pain medication.
Because he was on a morphine PCA pump, he couldn’t bring that with him. The pharmacist needed to create an equally effective oral medication for him that he could start taking in place of using the pump. That required testing it on him before he left, to be sure it was strong enough. Or if it was too strong, to bring it down to a different level.
They eventually found the right level and two of Mike’s friends transported him. I asked him why he didn’t want an ambulance and he said he needed the fresh air. He’d been cooped up for a week in a hospital, hadn’t even smelled fresh air. That was important to him and as his friends were willing to help him in and out of the vehicle, I couldn’t argue.
I’m a bit sad because I couldn’t even be there on his discharge day, but I wasn’t sure at the time if I had strep or not. Now it’s Friday and I’ll finally be able to see him later this afternoon – turns out I have just a normal but annoying cold and cough. I won’t be able to kiss him but I can guarantee you I will definitely be hugging him.
Well, the repair man is here to fix the oven so I must end this incredibly long post. Probably at some relief of my dedicated readers (wink).
Enjoy your day.
