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Reposting from my wall: Results of the fluid test indicate no horrible red flags and nothing else, either, but the no red flags is good because it means all the scarietst possibilities are not it. And so they are treating it like pneumonia and taking more x-rays tomorrow to see how she is doing and the doctor we saw today says she thinks it very likely that we can be home in time for The Cherub to go to her sister’s wedding. I had only realized last night that there was a real chance she might not be out of the hospital by the wedding and I did not handle this realization with aplomb. Or grace. Or poise. Or dignity.
Depending on the x-ray tomorrow morning, we might be able to go home tomorrow afternoon!
No release today. We are now looking at a possibility that the Cherub won’t be able to go to her sister’s wedding on Saturday.
This morning’s x-ray was not pretty. She still has a collapsed left lung surrounded by infected fluid. She’s having a broncho-something procedure at 2:00 today to see if maybe it’s something as simple as mucous blocking the opening to the lung so it cannot reinflate. If that doesn’t work or isn’t enough, she will have another procedure later where they insert a tube attached to a bag on the outside and let it drain for a while. If those don’t work, then surgery.
Wednesday late afternoon:
This morning my husband left early to go home to take the FYG to therapy and a doctor appt, while I was in x-ray with The Cherub. Both appointments were canceled beause of the weather (snow storms here again).
I told two or three staff that I didn’t like the way she was breathing. Finally one of them came back and said, basically, of course not- according to the x-ray, her left lung is collapsed and it’s a wall of white on that side because she’s got fluid where it doesn’t belong.” Okay. So, where we were when we got here.
They scheduled her for a bronchoscopy this afternoon.
My husband made it back in time to go back with The Cherub for the procedure and I bravely stayed in the room with the door shut and Did Not Think About It. He tells me it was kind of like surgical waterboarding and that is all he told me because it was quite clear to both of us that was more than I wanted to know.
No plug, exactly. Her bronchial tubes (the bronchus) and trachea are extremely inflamed and swollen. When she breathes, they close up on that side. They took fluid out to run more tests on that. She’s getting a chest tube some time tomorrow, we won’t go home so long as that is in. She came back with a suction machine with the long electronic opposite of a turkey baster thing like you see at the dentist’s office, and my husband gets the fun job of using it on her every time she looks like she’s going to cough while I sit on the couch in the room and continue to Not Think About Things.
This Not Thinking was working very well until Matt the Aid accidentally makes me Think About Things and is ambushed by waterworks. All in all, it’s been a very wet afternoon all around. And I said all three times in one sentence, so that must be very all encompassing.
Matt the Aid is a very nice person. He brought me four cups of coffee this morning like a caffeination Jeeves of my very own.
It was Matt the Aid who I apparently startled earlier today when I belted out the final line of the last stanza of Simon and Garfunkel’s Richard Cory (yes, i know it’s also an older poem)in the hospital room and it prompted somebody to come stand in the hall and peek through special window provided for peeping toms, stalkers, creepers, and hospital staff who need to discreetly check on patients and patients’ family members in the rooms. He opened the shades, peeked in, and closed them quickly and pretended there was nothing strange going on in this room at all. And all the poor man said was, “Wow, so Mom called it! That’s exactly what they tell us in nursing school- it does not matter what numbers, tests, or other diagnostics you look at, you don’t know anything until you talk to the patient or to the patient’s parents. Mom knows things you don’t know, and there we have it. Good for you, Mom- you were right.”
I said, “I would rather be wrong,” and I turned my face to the wall like Ahab. Except it was a window, and not a wall, and I was sitting up and not lying down, and I am not a wicked, murdering king who is pouting, but otherwise, exactly the same.
Matt the aid stood in the doorway a moment longer and said more nice things to my husband and then he quietly said, “Um, I’m just gonna close this door, now,” and he did.