April 17 – “Where is everybody?”

I stopped to get some donuts this morning for me and Chris.  Grabbed an extra dozen to maybe give away in a waiting room or something.  I told the clerk what they were for and that he could choose whatever kind he wanted to put in so he could have a part in it.  He grinned broadly and leapt to the task.  Gave me an eleven cents discount, too. 

We had a student nurse on the scene in Mom’s room.  She helped Mom’s nurse give meds.  Problem was, she didn’t know what they were for.  Chris said when she was in nursing school, they weren’t allowed to give a med if they didn’t know what it was for.  Chris was chatting with April about it, and April added, “or what is was supposed to do or what the side effects might be.”  Nursing school is a tough place to hang out.

Speaking of hanging out, we went up to the eighth floor to hang out with Cailyn before her surgery.  Then we walked with her to the surgery waiting area on the second floor.  They took her in five minutes early.  Guess it helps if your Mommy works there. Chris took off to go back to Mom’s room on the fifth floor and wait for the docs to make their rounds.  I took the donuts (after Nathan and April each snagged one) up to the fourth floor where the ICU waiting room is.  The Smecca family was there waiting for Grandpa to go into surgery.  And “coincidentally” enough they were starving.  Gotta love those coincidences God arranges.  I asked if any of them could help me eat some donuts and they were gone in an instant.  I stayed to talk to Moose, the family fireman, and when he heard Nathan and April were in the waiting room on the second floor he said, “Come on.  Let’s go see them.”  He and Nathan were talking when a third fireman walked in with his family.  His stepson was on his way to have his tonsils out as well.  Pretty soon the rest of Moose’s family came down to join the wait.  Felt like old home week – or old station week – for the fire department.  And then later we even saw one of the Seasiders being rolled past in a wheelchair.  I jumped up to see what was going on there.  And I’m still not completely sure.  Oh, it was Jim all right, and he had an IV port in his arm.  But when I asked what was going on all he would say is that he was “donating my body to science, only little pieces at a time.”  That’s a pretty typical Jim answer.  And that’s one more reason why I really like the guy.  You never know what he’s gonna say.  Or what it means when he does say it. 

After a while I got a text from Chris asking if we were still on the second floor.  Seems she had talked Mom’s docs already, but when she got into the elevator on the fifth floor she ended up on the eighth floor.  Now, Mom used to be on the ninth floor, and was moved to the fifth, even though we were hoping that she would end up on the tenth in the ACE unit for senior adults.  Cailyn started the morning on the eighth floor at day surgery check-in, went down to the second floor for the surgery, and was eventually supposed to be in a room on the tenth floor children’s wing.  The ICU waiting room where I took the donuts was on the fourth floor, but all those folks were now on the second floor in the surgery waiting room.  Well, almost all of them.  Some of them had gone down to the cafeteria on the first floor.  Apparently Chris’ head was spinning and she lost track of where everyone else was.  She wasn’t lost, though.  She knew full well where she was. 

OK.  To the patients.  Mom’s white count, the infection indicator, had fallen from 26 all the way to 25.9.  Yes, I was being sarcastic there.  Basically no change, so she wouldn’t be going anywhere.  Cailyn, on the other hand, came through surgery like an absolute champ.  Though struggling to stay awake, she was talking and munching on a popsicle.  When we asked how her throat felt, she said “It’s a little tickly.”  And when the ever-vigilant Nurse Nani asked, “Can I see where your tonsils used to be?” Cailyn, instead of opening her mouth wide as we all expected, thrust her head back onto her pillow, revealing the full expanse of her neck.  There it is, Nani.  Check it out all you want. 

Jennifer came to stay with Mom for the evening so we could duck out and attend the family visitation time for Uncle Jerry.  We touched base with a lot of cousins and some old friends.  When one friend arrived, Rev. Ray Pinnard, my brother Jay leaned over and whispered, “That guy there reminds me of Father Dan O’Connell.  Do you remember him?”  Indeed I did remember Father Dan, and I could see the resemblance right away.  Same perpetual grin.  Same glowing disposition.  I told Jay that Ray has kind of taken up the Father Dan mantle, in a sense.  Pretty much anybody who gets old in Galveston these days will run into Rev. Ray at some point or another.  He already has quite a legacy.  Funeral service for Uncle Jerry is today at ten o’clock.  It’ll be a full blown Catholic funeral with Knights of Columbus participation and everything.  My cousins asked me to say a few words as well.  I’ll give it my best shot to honor the Lord and Uncle Jerry. 

Luke 19:10 says, “For the Son of Man came to seek and to save what was lost.”

Father, watch over all of our patients as they recover – Mom and Grandpa and Cailyn.  Watch over our family as we remember together our time with Uncle Jerry.  And keep on holding the future in your hands.  It’s so much better off there than when I try to take it over.  Amen.

April 16 – “Taking a hike”

Well, we got some great news to start our morning yesterday.  Not.  X-rays or blood tests or listening to the crackling in her lungs or hearing her wheeze when she breathes or whatever it is they use showed mom has pneumonia now.  That mean several things.  For one, they switched antibiotics again.  They went back to the big gun vancomyacin (or however you spell it).  They also added another one that starts with a “Z.”  That one is a combination drug that includes a synthetic.  They are supposed to work together to inhibit the growth of the bacteria (or some such scientific gobbled gook).  They apparently only use it rarely so the bacteria doesn’t get used to it and start fighting back.  As long as it does its job, I guess I’ll be happy.  The other thing is that there will be no discharge, even to The Meridian.  Maybe for several more days.  They have to make sure she is responding to the antibiotics before they send her anywhere.  They also still have to have that ever-elusive negative blood culture.

Mom did walk a bit down the hall with the physical therapist.  He was a very kind young man with one of those soothing voices.  “Let’s do it together.  You can do it.  We’ll just walk to that computer up there and then rest.”  Oh, and my favorite, “If I have to do it, then you have to do it.  Come on, don’t make me do it by myself.”  It was all I could do not to respond with some sarcasm to a few of those encouragements.  Mom relished the attention, though.  And, well, it worked.  He rolled her out into the hall in the room chair, and I pushed it behind her as she went.  She had some kind of dip with her right leg and drag with her left.  I don’t think it was a dance move exactly, but the PT guy was pleased.  She was totally exhausted after only two brief stints, so he settled her back in the chair and rolled her back to the room.  I tried to convince him to push her around the halls a time or two in a roller coaster-type ride.  It would have been great fun, I’m sure.  Couldn’t convince him, though.

While we were there I read on FaceBook that one of the fire department wives had a grandfather facing some serious health issues.  I texted her to see where they were.  Just a floor beneath us.  I took a quick elevator ride down and had prayer with them.  May God be with the Smecca family.  Great folks.

I made my way back home shortly after that.  We realized that we were out of the parking garage tokens gifted to us by a friend of mine from high school.  That meant I had to pay $8.75 for the few hours I was there.  Not that Mom isn’t worth it.  It did make us appreciate your gift even more, though, Charlotte.  Thank you so much.

And so on to today.  Cailyn’s surgery at 12:30.  Family visitation for Uncle Jerry from 5 to 8.  Wonder if they will release Mom to the Meridian today?  That would add some more drama to the picture …

Psalms 36:7 says, “How priceless is your unfailing love!  Both high and low among men find refuge in the shadow of your wings.”

Father, walk with the Smecca family today.  They could use some of your hugs.  And wrap your arms around Cailyn while you are at it.  We love that little one.  Amen.

April 15 – “Hectic Holy Week”

We have received the details of Uncle Jerry’s funeral.  Wednesday from 5-8 p.m. will be the visitation.  Funeral services will be held Thursday morning at 10 a.m., with burial to follow.  It will take place at Forest Park East Funeral Home.  21620 Gulf Fwy, Webster, TX.  Deacon Sam from Holy Family Parish will lead the service.  They have asked me to share as well.

Mom was scheduled to be discharged yesterday to go to the Meridian for rehab.  I had to hustle over to their offices to sign their required admission papers.  It felt like I was buying another house.  “Sign here.  Initial there.”  Fifty-five pages worth of stuff.  I didn’t have some of the documents they were requesting, because they were with Chris in Mom’s file bag (Yep, we have a whole bag designated just for her medical stuff).  Things like the power of attorney documents and specific insurance information.  I texted Chris to see if Mom had had flu and pneumonia immunizations.  She answered, “John (the RN) just came in: she is not being discharged today.”  I read that one out loud, and the admissions lady stopped cold.  It took her a few seconds to gather herself, and after a deep breath she reassured herself (I’m serious.  She wasn’t talking to me at all), and mumbled, “Oh, no.  Oh, wait.  It’s good for a month.  We’re OK.”  Finally she shook her head a bit and redirected her vocalizations to me.  “That’s fine.  The paperwork is good for a month before we have to redo it.”  We finished the remaining pages and she ushered me out the back door.  I don’t think she meant it to hide me or anything.  It’s just that residents’ families most often come and go out that way. 

As quickly as I could, I texted Chris back to find out what was going on.  Here’s her answer: “Dr. just in: not discharging her because her white count has jumped up.  More crackles in her lungs.  Did chest x-ray already.  Going to do another round of urine and blood cultures.”  Oh boy.  Another infection.  And while she is still on antibiotics.  That can’t be good.  I swept into Jack-in-the-box and grabbed us some more tacos and hurried on to the hospital. 

When I arrived Chris and the RN were gathering all of Mom’s things together.  I wondered if they had changed their minds again.  But no.  She was moving, but just to another floor.  They had a cardiac patient who needed to be on this floor, so she had to be bumped.  I had a brief moment of hope there.  Maybe she would get to go to what they referred to as “The Penthouse.”  That would be the tenth floor where they try to put elderly patients.  The one with the huge rooms and couches.  But sadly, it was not to be.  They were still full.  Instead she would now be on the fifth floor. 

I was sent on the reconnaissance mission to check it out.  Actually transportation was on their way, and they just needed me to carry an armful of flowers and bags.  So she would now be off of the cardiac floor and in with gynecology, oncology and nephrology (had to look that one up.  It has to do with the kidneys).  Once they got her moved, she had a bath (first one in a week.  That had to feel good).  The docs changed her antibiotic to the big guns to try to knock out this new infection.  Oh, and just before she moved, she did walk a few steps with the physical therapy guy, from the chair to the bed.  That actually sounds better than it was, though.  Remember the nickname for the last room she was in was “The Closet.”  And she was worn out by the time she made it back to the chair.  Baby steps. 

I had to leave early to get by Office Depot and order the programs for the sunrise service.  I forced myself to slow down enough to get a haircut, and then stopped in at WalMart for the grapes I forgot and some more Blue Bell.  Gotta stock up while it is on sale.  Last night I looked at my plate for this week.  Mom in hospital.  Take care of transfer to Meridian.  Sunrise service and regular preparations.  Water exercise Tuesday and Thursday mornings.  Cailyn’s surgery Wednesday.  Family visitation for Jerry Wednesday.  Funeral service for Jerry Thursday.  Wedding rehearsal Friday night.  Family Easter egg dyeing Saturday morning.  Wedding Saturday afternoon.  Easter sunrise service and regular service Sunday morning.  Deliver some Easter things to the fire stations Sunday afternoon.  That’s quite a way to spend one’s Holy Week.  Yep.  I’m one tired puppy just thinking about it. 

1 Chronicles 16:34 says, “Give thanks to the Lord, for he is good; his love endures forever.”

Father, thank you.  Thank you for hospitals and surgeries, funerals and weddings, preparations and deliveries.  It’s the end of the week that makes all the difference.  You rose from the dead.  You’re alive.  You are good.  Your love endures forever.  Amen.

April 14 – “Confusion”

Sounds like Uncle Jerry’s funeral will be sometime Thursday morning, with family visitation on Wednesday evening.  His son will get back in town today and they will finalize everything with Forest Park East. 

We had a bit of confusion yesterday regarding Mom.  Jennifer stayed the night with her and Chris was actually able to come to church, but she ended up on the phone texting all morning.  Seems the resident on Mom’s care team came by and said they might send her back home instead of the Meridian.  Now that didn’t make any sense because her potassium is still way out of whack.  She hasn’t been able to tolerate the IV because for one thing the potassium burns too bad, and for another, Mom’s veins have been poked so much they keep blowing out and clogging up the process.  The docs came by twice wanting to talk to us, so we headed back as soon as we could. 

It took us awhile to get there, though, because after church we went over to watch Cailyn so April could go get them some groceries.  Cailyn had been throwing up all night, and finally fell asleep around eight that morning.   Now throwing up is not good anytime, but in Cailyn’s case, any kind of being sick is just not good right now.  See, she is scheduled for tonsil/adenoid removal surgery on Wednesday.  That little one needs to stay healthy.

When we got to the hospital, Jennifer told us that the docs had returned again, but now it sounded like the faculty doc still seemed to want her to go to the Meridian after all, especially since Medicare covers it for 20 days.  Whew.  Confusing.  After that the bulk of the team apparently went home for the weekend, because they never came back.  Later on, though, the intern, whose name is Dr. Kelly by the way, came back.  He hadn’t been with the team earlier.  All he knew was that someone told him “the family has some questions.”  Chris filled him in on the confusion.  He came up with some medical jargon about potassium and assured us that she wasn’t going anywhere until that deficiency was cleared up.  Didn’t really answer the question about where she would be discharged, but I guess he did deal with the immediate “when.”  I think an adequate translation of his assessment of the situation would be … “Never mind.  See you tomorrow.”

1 Corinthians 14:33 says, “For God is not a God of disorder but of peace.

Father, I thank you that in the midst of the disorder and confusion around us we can count on you for stability and peace.  Amen.

April 13 – “Gentleness and joy”

The official word came to us yesterday morning.  Uncle Jerry died about 11:45 the night before.  Sounds like it was very peaceful for him, and that will go a long way toward bringing peace to the family as well.  We still don’t know all the details about funeral arrangements.  More to come on that end today.

We did manage to have a little fun the other day from Mom’s room.  Ah, Mom’s room.  She was supposed to be admitted to the tenth floor, which is the A.C.E. unit – Accelerated Care for the Elderly.  The rooms on that floor are beautiful.  And quite large.  Each one has a separate living area with a couch.  Quite impressive.  Yep.  That’s where she was supposed to be.  Unfortunately all those rooms were occupied when it came time to move her out of ICU.  ”The Closet,” as we affectionately call the tiny room on the ninth floor (so close, yet so far away.  Sigh) she has been living in since leaving ICU, is so small that the sleeper chair is just about the only thing that fits other than the bed.  There is another chair in there, but it is supposed to be used as a desk chair for the tiny little cubicle space by the door.  Oh, I can’t forget the nifty little folding chair they have hanging on the wall beneath the sign that encourages patients to invite their doctors to have a seat and talk a while.  Cute little thing.  Nowhere does it fit into the realm of being remotely comfortable, but it is … cute.  The room does have one window, though, and it has an interesting view.  It faces roughly east, so you can see directly onto the top of the parking garage as well as the ground entrance and exit of said garage.  Onto the story …

Kel and his family all came to visit MeeMaw.  They texted that they were almost to the hospital, so I was standing watch at the window.  I spotted their car as they entered and alerted Chris.  I continued my stakeout on the chance that they would continue on and park on the roof.  Sure enough, they pulled just into my view.  Micah’s choice.  Nice job, Micah.  My inside man on this operation.  As they got out of the car I started texting Kel:

“I see you.”
He looked around, then responded, “Creeper.”

Boys will be boys, and I noticed Jachin leading the younger ones over to the wall to peer over the edge.  “Jachin!  Get away from that ledge”

I’m sure they appreciated my grandfatherly concern.  At that point Kel went back to their car.  “What did you forget?”

They had stopped at Sonic and had Chris a cherry limeade slush from happy hour drinks afternoon.  He replied, “Mom’s straw.”

As they made their way toward the hospital we were interrupted by someone from the transportation department.  He was there to pick up Mom for an ultrasound of her carotid artery, a test they ordered back in the ER or ICU that they never got around to performing.  Hastily I texted Kel, “Pause in the lobby,” and turned to the issue at hand.

I told Chris they were on their way into the hospital, so she asked how long the test was supposed to take.  The transportation guy said, “Only takes about ten or fifteen minutes.”  Never listen to the transportation guy. 

As they continued loading Mom onto the stretcher I checked my phone.  There was another one from Kel: “Feel like I’m in a spy movie.  Trying to lose my tail, track the bad guy, rescue the hostage.”

As fun as this was, I decided to let them off the hook.  Chris stayed with Mom, and I went downstairs and met them in the lobby.  They came on up and saw the Closet, er, Mom's room.  Nurse Erin came in and said the test would be at least another 30-45 minutes, so they went on to the library.

While they were gone I got some more news.  The docs decided not to do a pic line after all.  New research says the antibiotic she is on, levoquin, can be taken as a pill with the same effect.  She had one last levoquin IV, then pills.  She also has to have one dose of potassium IV, though.  The problem with that is that it burns when it is administered.  Erin set it up to drip very slowly though to avoid as much pain as possible.  It will probably take all night to finish.

Then the social worker came by to tell us that Mom was officially accepted into the Meridian under the 20 day Medicare window for rehab.  They wanted the weekend to accumulate her medications and complete all the paperwork, though.  The transfer will take place Monday.  We should be hearing from a Meridian representative next.

They all came back at about the same time, and the “smile warmly” moment of the day came when Josiah crawled up onto the bed next to Mom and gently stroked her arm.  When she spoke to him, he got very excited and animatedly proclaimed, “MeeMaw talked.”  Leave to a three year old to rejoice in even the smallest of gifts from God. 

Matthew 11:29-30 says, “Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.”

Father, thank you for teaching us about gentleness and unrestrained joy through the mouth and actions of a three year old.  Amen.

April 12 – “Romantic Lunch”

I had to do some work yesterday morning to complete all the Palm Sunday stuff for church and to pay some bills.  It took me until almost 11:30.  Then I had to stop at the bank to transfer some money out of savings (one of those bills was our quarterly estimated income tax payment.  Don’t particularly want to be late on that one).  Somewhere along the way I had the idea to bring up a nice, romantic lunch to the hospital for Chris and me to share.  But what should I bring?  I stopped in at Sonic for a large cherry limeade slush, just to help me think, of course.  And it worked.  I came up with the perfect idea for that romantic lunch.  What could be better than to duplicate our very first meal together as a married couple?  Ah, the nostalgia of it all.  Supremely proud of myself at the … the … perfectness of it all, I pulled into the fine quality restaurant and ordered the very same thing we had on that fine June 6^th night almost 39 years ago.  I was surprised at how quickly they were able to complete the order, since it was to-go and all.  But meal in hand, I headed on to the hospital, anxious to see the look on Chris’ face when I arrived. 

Everything seemed rather calm when I entered the room.  Mom was in her chair dozing as she waited for her own lunch.  The quick update was: the blood culture is not negative yet, and before her discharge they will have to install a PIC line.  I knew what that meant.  I had one after I got that nasty hospital infection a few years back.  It’s an IV port that you keep in you for weeks so someone can come over and shoot in the antibiotics through it.  On the one hand it is quite handy, but on the other, it is a real nuisance.  But, if it is necessary, bring it on.  Report done, we settled in for lunch.  Chris said she was pretty hungry, so that would be a real plus for her full enjoyment of my idea.  Finally the time came for the big reveal.  I told her about my plan to take her back to that romantic first meal together.  And she laughed.  That’s right, laughed.  Undeterred, however, I continued on.  I reached into the carrying bag I had for the meal and pulled out … the six Jack-in-the-Box tacos.  She laughed again, but it was good laugh.  See, we really did have Jack-in-the-Box tacos for our first meal together as a married couple.  We just had cake and mints at our reception, so on our way to the hotel we were starving.  And the only place we could find open in that bustling suburb of Manvel called Alvin was the local Jack-in-the-Box.  And we had to hurry because the local football game was over and we were told that the place was usually overrun by high school students.  Hey, sounded like a lot of fun to me.  After all I was a youth pastor who had just received a “married man’s raise” to a whopping $35 a week.  But we didn’t stay.  Had to go check out Alvin’s finest hotel with its massage beds.  Only a quarter for fifteen minutes, but be careful.  You might end up seasick.  Too much of a good thing and all.  Sigh.  Memories.

Ephesians 5:28 says, “In this same way, husbands ought to love their wives as their own bodies. He who loves his wife loves himself.”

Father, thank you for the wife you blessed me with.  Give her one of your hugs.  Mine can never measure up to those.  Amen.

April 11 – “Entertaining the nurses”

I took Cailyn to school yesterday via “Moody in the Gardens.”  That’s her special treat for those days she gets ready quickly enough.  As we drove past Schlitterbahn she informed me that she has a trip planned there.  I asked, “Oh? Who is going on your trip?”  She immediately listed, “Mommy, Daddy, Nani, you DadDad, and meemaw.”  I for one would love to see Mom going down one of those huge waterslides. 

I made a trip over to The Meridian to see Uncle Jerry.  On the way in through their security system and very slow elevator, I stood next to the speech pathologist.  She looked eerily familiar, and I know I must have been sneaking a few peaks to get a closer look.  She finally relented and asked if I knew who she was.  I assured her I knew the face but had no name to go with it.  It was Kerry from Jamaica Beach.  She has been to church a time or two.  I knew it.  Always makes me feel kind of silly.  She was kind, though.  Jerry seemed to be sleeping quite peacefully.  A picture of his family was mounted on the bed right next to his face.  Kristen was due to arrive in a few hours. 

The night before Mom started wheezing badly.  She was overloaded with fluids and her lungs were filling up.  They stopped the IV fluids except for when she needed her antibiotics.  They also gave her a dose of Lasix and started her on oxygen.  That took a while but eventually did the trick.  They do have to watch that closely now. 

The gerontology team came by with their report.  The CT scan of her abdomen showed no further infection there.  That was good news.  They were still waiting on the latest blood cultures.  Those will be the key to what happens next.  She is still on high doses of prednisone.  She received massive doses in the ER that they continued when she was in ICU.  They will be weaning her off of those very slowly over the next few weeks.  She will be here “at least one more night.” 

Occupational Therapy came by and helped her into the chair.  Between that and the ensure they brought her, she was in hog heaven.  While Chris was gone – she went home to pick up Cailyn from school and get a shower – Mom said she felt like she had to go to the bathroom to urinate.  I explained to her about the catheter, but she kept insisting, so I asked Nurse Erin to come explain it to her.  Mom finally said she understood.  I was skeptical.  Erin said to let her know when Mom wanted to go back to bed.  She would get some help.  After a little while she started in again on wanting to go to the bathroom.  I told her unless she had to poop that wasn’t an option.  She got frustrated and with a deep sigh said, “I guess I’ll just go back to bed then.”  Thinking she meant that - foolish me - I called for Erin and she came with a colleague to help her out.  But when they got there Mom changed her mind and said she had to go to the bathroom.  They explained the whole catheter thing again, and Mom was really in actress mode.  Her facial expressions in response to the explanation were hilarious, and it was obvious she was paying no attention at all to Erin’s carefully worded thoughts.  To her credit Erin was doing a masterful job of keeping a straight face.  Not so much the other nurse.  And then came what proved to be the last straw.  Mom stuck out her tongue at Erin.  Both nurses lost it.  I lost it.  Mom snickered and grinned and hunched up her shoulders in a “Ha!  I got you” kind of movement.  The next few minutes were a mishmash of feeble attempts to stay on task.  “Do you want to get back in bed?”  Hilarious.  “She’s so stinkin’ cute.”  Outrageous.  They finally switched to asking if she needed to go poop.  She said, “Sure.”  And then she was not so sure.  She finally said, “I just want to get up and walk around somewhere.”  And there it was.  I personally think the steroids had her so pumped up that she was ready to run a marathon.  They tried to explain about waiting for physical therapy and going slowly, but she was … well, high.  She could do anything.  I finally suggested getting her one of those bedside potties and letting her walk from the chair to the potty.  Grateful for the chance to leave the room, they raced off to put in the order. 

We did finally get her settled back in the bed.  And later on in the afternoon the potty chair did arrive.  Maybe another day. 

1 John 4:16 says, “And so we know and rely on the love God has for us.  God is love. Whoever lives in love lives in God, and God in him.” 

Father, thank you for the loving and light-hearted moments those nurses provided yesterday.  Surround them with your care.  Amen.