What started out as going to the hospital to cut my mom's pancakes and feed her turned into an all day process of getting her home and comfortable. When I got there this morning I found out that the discharge papers had been filled out at 7 AM, and that we were just waiting for the home health service to be set up, and then she could go home. All ready? Despite the pain and fatigue, she'd had it with the ticking wall clock and loud hallways, so she was OK with leaving. Pam, Deanne, and I learned about changing the dressings and emptying the 5 surgical drains. Dr. Tan came to check the surgery area and said that it looks great, and she has an appt with him on Monday morning--hopefully he will take out the 2 additional tubes that are depositing pain medication sub-dermaly to her chest, and maybe even a few of the other drains. Let's hope. It's a real pain for everyone involved to deal with 7 different tubes coming out of a small area every time she wants to stand up, go to the bathroom, or go for a short walk. But I guess that's part of the process. I drove her home and we got her into her own bed--thank you to her friends that set her up with the wedge, stool, and several other devices that have already been very helpful. She seems much more comfortable on her own mattress. As long as she takes the pain medication on time, the pain is tolerable. This morning, when I asked her how long it had been (the amount of grimacing was going up), she said 5 1/2 hours--I chastised her and called the nurse to bring the pills. Much better. She's still itchy and trying to figure out what it may be a reaction to, and is very exhausted most of the time. I think that may get better as she starts to eat more. She also sees black spots floating by in front of her, and to watch her reach out for them and swat them away is like watching someone who may be hallucinating. It's quite amusing. She knows she looks a little crazy doing it, but she's so convinced that the floating spots are there, that she says, "see, it's right there" while reaching for it. Gerry Bowns, her good friend and ophthalmologist, gave this "condition" a name which I can't remember. Guess it's normal and she's not crazy.
The reason my dad doesn't appear in this story is that he's sick and was running a fever all night, so he didn't come to the hospital today. My brother came to the house bearing Jamba Juice and some good laughs. She's in good hands with Deanne there, and will hopefully have a good sleep tonight, with a little help from Ambien.