Dear Friends and Family,
As a physician, it has been humbling to see how frequently patients “hurry up and wait.” On an intellectual level, I was aware of the concept, but having been healthy, I had never experienced it up close and personal. I liken it to the difference between thinking about the experience of having a newborn baby versus sitting up all night in a rocking chair trying to get the little tyke to stop crying.
These last few months, I have learned firsthand about waiting. For example, when Nancy had a sore arm from her infection and blood clot during this hospitalization and was taking a strong pain medicine, it was, “Winnie, has it been four hours yet since my last Percocet?”
In reality, she didn’t have to ask. The distressed expression on her beautiful face was already telling me it must be time for her next dose. The fact is that nothing is harder than watching a loved one suffer—except perhaps seeing that loved one and knowing what to do but being unable to “write the order.”
It is considerably easier when Nancy asks, “Do you see the lunch trays in the hall yet?” My bride’s voracious appetite this hospitalization is near legendary on the eighth floor. Nancy’s desire for sustenance is much to the delight of her doctors and probably a result of her off-the-chart walking program.
Today, however, it was my turn to wait.
At 12:28 p.m. there was still no sign of our attending “main” doctor. I’d already missed breakfast and was beginning to worry that the hot lunch would be at room temperature by the time I reached the cafeteria. (Meals have become a welcome break to the monotony of watching the clock tick while Nancy sleeps.) Still I was afraid to leave; our chief physician was long overdue. For a moment my eyes closed, the memory of another fitful night on the hospital rollaway adding to the heaviness of my upper eyelids. Just as my stomach gurgled loud enough for it to be heard at the nurse’s station down the hall, the door opened and in strolled Dr. Morton.
“I don’t know how much of a hurry you are to get out of this prison room, Nancy, but I’m thinking maybe tomorrow. We’ll decide in the morning when we see if your white count and platelets continue to go up. If they’re just a little higher, we’ll give you the boot. You’ll have to take oral antibiotics for a day or so though.”
Is Dr. Morton kidding?
Is it possible we’ll be in our own comfortable bed by tomorrow evening?
“That okay with you two?” Dr. Morton raised his eyebrows while tilting his head forward.
Nancy’s smile matched his. “That would be . . . GREAT.”
Though most often not the case, this time my wait was well worth it.
Summary: With little notice, our doctor surprised us with an earlier than expected hospital discharge. Nancy is returning to our sanctuary by the river, where the flowers are still in full bloom and the birds are waiting to make the hospital noises a dim memory. Our upcoming two-week respite should be a fantastic escape. This time, Nancy is unencumbered by medical devices and, best of all, she feels great. Amazingly, she feels better now than when we entered the hospital nearly three weeks ago for round two.
Thanks for all your love and support during this last round,
Winnie