5:48am
My workday consists of spending the next 24 hours explaining to my very sick husband that no he cannot get up and use the toilet, he’s in intensive care. He can use the bedpan until he can walk again.
It is surprisingly difficult to explain to someone who 36 hours ago couldn’t walk, swallow, hold a cup, or talk, that he is too sick to go to the bathroom just because he feels good enough to try
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7:08am
No dear, it is not a crowd of black ops warriors, its shift change, can we PLEASE sleep now?
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7:40am
Hallucinations are terrifying when they happen and also these are going to make great stories later
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3:49pm
The doctors have ordered me to go home and sleep there tonight because I’ve slept on a recliner (on my side, and no, the recliner doesn’t lay flat) at the hospital for 4 nights straight and even though I seem to be the anchor that keeps him connected to reality, I won’t be a very good anchor if I’m too tired to function. 4 hours of sleep a night is not sustainable.
The good news — and it is VERY good news — is that the neurological problem that was causing his muscles to randomly shut off so that he dropped things and couldn’t walk and couldn’t swallow has mostly cleared up. That means he can swallow pills, eat, drink, etc. He’s also wide awake and able to at least try to have conversations with people, which is also way better than he was a few days ago, although it comes with some caveats near the end of this post.
In other good news, the antibiotics seem to be working and with a little luck the liver will be not-infected very soon. The antibiotics are also effective against the stuff that colonizes his lungs so it’s a two-for-one deal to prevent infection.
Under the category “it is what it is”, Nathaniel’s been officially diagnosed with chronic liver disease. What does that mean? Damned if I know because we can’t determine exactly how bad his liver is without doing a biopsy and he’s not in good enough shape right now to do a biopsy. I’ve pushed pretty hard on the liver doc to make sure that we do the biopsy before we leave the hospital because we deserve to have a plan before we leave.
On the less wonderful side of things, he’s experiencing what one doc called “hyperactive delusions”. On one hand, he has trouble following conversations, which means meetings with the doctors and the nurses are very stressful because he doesn’t understand what we’re saying. On the other hand, his brain is filling him with sights and sounds that aren’t actually there. He hears voices, he sees things, and a huge amount of the time, he yells at them. For those of y’all who have been down the hospitalization road with us before you probably know how much he hates having a patient down the hall who’s constantly yelling. This trip, he is that patient.
He’s also angry, and who wouldn’t be?
Fortunately, there are treatments for all of these things and we’re applying them carefully and thoughtfully and including everyone (especially Nathaniel) in the decision-making process. We have the CF team, the endocrinology team, the diabetes team, the GI team, the liver team, the surgical team, and the psychiatry team involved and I’m sure we can get some more involved before we leave if we have to.
Anyway, that’s the report. I’m leaving here at 8pm to go home to eat a food, sleep in my own bed, get a shower in the morning, and head back here. Thank you all for reading — this is helping me keep track of what’s going on and it’s easier to get back to than notes that I’d lose on my computer.
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4:02pm
I think at this point my brain has given up on freaking out about it and is just like “well this is an odd work assignment, I guess I’ll push through.” I originally thought I’d be having a good solid meltdown on, say, Thursday, but that’s also when I thought he’d be home by Saturday.
Nat’s parents said “thank you” to me at the end of a call earlier and I’m like “I mean, I signed up for this” and they were like “no you didn’t sign up for THIS” and I guess they’re right… we started dating when I was 17 and we got married when I was 24 and you know, a whole lot of “your husband has a terminal disease” sounded more like a Lurlene Mcdaniels book in my head than it’s turned out to be