Tickled to report that the Mister is much much MUCH better today and is probably going to be headed home later this afternoon; if not today, then tomorrow morning for sure.
After adjusting his medications, giving him a blood transfusion and several bags of IV fluids, and doing an echocardiogram, the cardiologist and nephrologist are satisfied that he is out of the woods and ready to return to the wild.
His blood pressure is good and his blood sugar is good; and since having the blood transfusion overnight, his hemoglobin count is also good. He's still a tad anemic, so they're giving him an iron injection and then putting him on additional iron supplements at home. The nephrologist expressed a little concern that he might be dizzy or tired after being upright, and if that was the case, then they might want to keep him one more night.
Therefore, the Mister promptly put on his shorts and Nikes and we did two laps around the fifth floor - resulting in zero dizziness (and if he's tired, he ain't saying so).
Looks like he's dodging the stolen-oscopy too, at least for today, so no insult being added to injury.
Unless we hear something to the contrary, I expect to take him home this afternoon or evening. Thank you for the prayers and support!
28 December 2012
27 December 2012
Deja Vu All Over Again
Here is a loose transcript of some of my thoughts from this morning:
"The Mister sure has been napping a lot lately. I mean, the man is pretty fond of naps in general, but seems like he's been especially snoozy in the last week or two. I wonder if...YES, YOU CAN HAVE SOME CHEESE FOR BREAKFAST...
Now, where was I...something about naps...no, I'm not tired, so that's not it, WAIT now I remember I was thinking about how tired my man has been in the last few weeks. Come to think of it, he's also seemed a little 'off', maybe more off than usual..."
Fast forward to around 2 p.m. where I got tired of talking to myself and decided to call his doctor instead. Long story short, we were back in the emergency room by 3 p.m.
Because we found ourselves in something of a hurry, I didn't have time to find somewhere for the Girl to go. And there isn't a snowball's chance in Hades that she would stay with the Boy alone for an indeterminate period of time, so she came along for the ride.
Big mistake. I couldn't very well leave her alone in the ER waiting area, but it was also rough on her to see her daddy sick and flat on his back with lots of people in scrubs fussing over him. Thankfully some good friends from the Girl's school were willing to come take her home with them. (You know who you are and I am eternally grateful.)
After labwork and a chest xray, the ER doc ruled out a second heart attack, but there are other weird things going on now. His hemoglobin (red blood cell) count is too low and is indicative of internal bleeding. He is very dehydrated, and his blood pressure is also too low, which explains the dizzy spells. And his creatinine is too high, meaning that his kidneys aren't doing their job very well either.
In an effort to protect what little remains of his dignity, I won't tell you where they think the internal bleeding is happening, but suffice to say that tomorrow he will probably have something that ends in "-oscopy" and the first part rhymes with "stolen". He is having a blood transfusion first thing in the morning, and he'll also have an echocardiogram just to triple-check his heart.
So I suspect we will know a lot more tomorrow, and I will pass along updates and/or silly observations as they become available.
TTFN -
"The Mister sure has been napping a lot lately. I mean, the man is pretty fond of naps in general, but seems like he's been especially snoozy in the last week or two. I wonder if...YES, YOU CAN HAVE SOME CHEESE FOR BREAKFAST...
Now, where was I...something about naps...no, I'm not tired, so that's not it, WAIT now I remember I was thinking about how tired my man has been in the last few weeks. Come to think of it, he's also seemed a little 'off', maybe more off than usual..."
Fast forward to around 2 p.m. where I got tired of talking to myself and decided to call his doctor instead. Long story short, we were back in the emergency room by 3 p.m.
Because we found ourselves in something of a hurry, I didn't have time to find somewhere for the Girl to go. And there isn't a snowball's chance in Hades that she would stay with the Boy alone for an indeterminate period of time, so she came along for the ride.
Big mistake. I couldn't very well leave her alone in the ER waiting area, but it was also rough on her to see her daddy sick and flat on his back with lots of people in scrubs fussing over him. Thankfully some good friends from the Girl's school were willing to come take her home with them. (You know who you are and I am eternally grateful.)
After labwork and a chest xray, the ER doc ruled out a second heart attack, but there are other weird things going on now. His hemoglobin (red blood cell) count is too low and is indicative of internal bleeding. He is very dehydrated, and his blood pressure is also too low, which explains the dizzy spells. And his creatinine is too high, meaning that his kidneys aren't doing their job very well either.
In an effort to protect what little remains of his dignity, I won't tell you where they think the internal bleeding is happening, but suffice to say that tomorrow he will probably have something that ends in "-oscopy" and the first part rhymes with "stolen". He is having a blood transfusion first thing in the morning, and he'll also have an echocardiogram just to triple-check his heart.
So I suspect we will know a lot more tomorrow, and I will pass along updates and/or silly observations as they become available.
TTFN -
20 December 2012
Drawers
Back where my mama's family comes from, the word "drawers" can mean those slide-out boxes in a dresser or chest where you keep your clothes or maybe random junk, OR it can mean your underpants. I think northerners exchange "bloomers" for drawers, but I digress.
This post is not about underpants.
The Mister will tell you that my drawers are terrifying. (please refer once more to the above disclaimer re: drawers not being underpants.) They are terrifying because I collect junk in every single drawer that will open wide enough for me to slide something else into it.
The kitchen drawer:
Random mixed candles
A small hammer
Nine assorted playing cards from two different decks
Scotch, duct, painter's, masking and electrical tape
Rusty scissors that wouldn't cut warm butter
Warranty for the toaster
Four pens with no ink left
The rolltop desk:
Old checkbooks from closed accounts
Ornaments marked down December 28th last year that I forgot about until Easter
Eight copies of each child's school portrait for the past five years (need to send those out one of these days...)
My late grandmother's business cards
More tape
Teeth (yes, I keep my children's baby teeth. So what.)
My bathroom drawers:
Haircare products
Skincare products
Failed lipsticks
Ugly hairbands
Seven tubes of my favorite toothpaste (it was on SALE, for pete's sake)
Dresser drawers:
T-shirts
Jeans
Drawers (yes, underpants)
Gloves
Socks
Old zoom lens for a Pentax camera I sold in '93
My brain has hundreds of different drawers as well, with labels to identify their contents. The majority of them overflow with memories of one kind or another; some joyful, some horrific, some just random snapshots of insignificance like my third grade desk or a long-gone favorite hairbrush.
Other drawers contain opinions, assessments, learned lessons, failed lessons, habits, desires, tastes, distastes, conclusions and questions unasked and/or unanswered. There's an entire section devoted to faith, and I like adding to it most of all. I already have more than I ever imagined I would.
But.
Every now and then, someone or something happens and I don't know where to put it. It doesn't line up with any of my hundreds of existing drawer labels - so I don't know what to do with it. So I just stand there inside my head, hopping from foot to foot like a kindergartner with a full bladder....wondering what to do with this thing that must be put somewhere, for crying out loud, just put it SOMEWHERE because it hurts and it smells bad.
So it is with Sandy Hook Elementary on December 14th, 2012. I do have a drawer labeled "To Think About Later", and I've tried to shove it in there a number of times, but it won't stay. "Evil" seemed appropriate at first, but then "Heroes", "Community" and "Stupid Cable News Shows" confused the issue further.
All the while, the Faith section has been sitting undisturbed against the back wall, in the warm part where all the good stuff is. It occurs to me to put Sandy Hook in Faith's top drawer...but what if that's not where it belongs?? What if it leaks on all my other faith things and then they all get ruined?
Oh my goodness.
Faith.
That is where this needs to go, because it's the only place it can possibly fit.
This post is not about underpants.
The Mister will tell you that my drawers are terrifying. (please refer once more to the above disclaimer re: drawers not being underpants.) They are terrifying because I collect junk in every single drawer that will open wide enough for me to slide something else into it.
The kitchen drawer:
Random mixed candles
A small hammer
Nine assorted playing cards from two different decks
Scotch, duct, painter's, masking and electrical tape
Rusty scissors that wouldn't cut warm butter
Warranty for the toaster
Four pens with no ink left
The rolltop desk:
Old checkbooks from closed accounts
Ornaments marked down December 28th last year that I forgot about until Easter
Eight copies of each child's school portrait for the past five years (need to send those out one of these days...)
My late grandmother's business cards
More tape
Teeth (yes, I keep my children's baby teeth. So what.)
My bathroom drawers:
Haircare products
Skincare products
Failed lipsticks
Ugly hairbands
Seven tubes of my favorite toothpaste (it was on SALE, for pete's sake)
Dresser drawers:
T-shirts
Jeans
Drawers (yes, underpants)
Gloves
Socks
Old zoom lens for a Pentax camera I sold in '93
My brain has hundreds of different drawers as well, with labels to identify their contents. The majority of them overflow with memories of one kind or another; some joyful, some horrific, some just random snapshots of insignificance like my third grade desk or a long-gone favorite hairbrush.
Other drawers contain opinions, assessments, learned lessons, failed lessons, habits, desires, tastes, distastes, conclusions and questions unasked and/or unanswered. There's an entire section devoted to faith, and I like adding to it most of all. I already have more than I ever imagined I would.
But.
Every now and then, someone or something happens and I don't know where to put it. It doesn't line up with any of my hundreds of existing drawer labels - so I don't know what to do with it. So I just stand there inside my head, hopping from foot to foot like a kindergartner with a full bladder....wondering what to do with this thing that must be put somewhere, for crying out loud, just put it SOMEWHERE because it hurts and it smells bad.
So it is with Sandy Hook Elementary on December 14th, 2012. I do have a drawer labeled "To Think About Later", and I've tried to shove it in there a number of times, but it won't stay. "Evil" seemed appropriate at first, but then "Heroes", "Community" and "Stupid Cable News Shows" confused the issue further.
All the while, the Faith section has been sitting undisturbed against the back wall, in the warm part where all the good stuff is. It occurs to me to put Sandy Hook in Faith's top drawer...but what if that's not where it belongs?? What if it leaks on all my other faith things and then they all get ruined?
Oh my goodness.
Faith.
That is where this needs to go, because it's the only place it can possibly fit.
22 November 2012
Giving Thanks.
For the last few days, I've been attempting to capture the depth of my gratitude in a handful of late November Facebook posts. I've watched all month as many of my friends post daily reflections of those people and things for which they are most grateful.
The sweet sincerity of love for spouses, children, friends...
The gratitude for material comfort, warm/dry shelter, an abundance of clothing...
The appreciation for our country as well as our communities...
...these posts make me smile with the assurance that I am firmly planted in a garden full of God's most beautiful children as my friends.
For the first 30+ years of my life, though, I couldn't see that. I generally parked my heart in a dark muddy place, where glimmers of God's light would filter through from time to time, but I often sat in grumpy loathing of you, Him, and most of all myself. Things weren't fair, you see. If things were fair (according to my definition at the time), I would've been thinner, funnier, prettier, richer, smarter...just plain BETTER. I would have more stuff and less trouble, and then I would finally be happy.
Chasing "better" is exhausting and frankly foolish. Do I mean we shouldn't pursue our best selves? Heavens no...but the pursuit should not outrank the sufficience of today, of living in the present and seeing all the joy therein.
Simple examples -
-- I've learned how to meditate over the past several years, and the foundation of entering a meditative state is breathing - slowly, deeply and with concentration on each breath. The comfort of taking a good deep breath is among my simple pleasures.
-- I think about the feeling of being sick at my stomach, awash in nausea and trying desperately to hold still. The impatient plea to feel better yet the sweaty misery of waiting to be sick...now I think about that moment of relief where I realize it has subsided, that the storm in my gut is over and I can rest.
-- I remember sitting in a cold, lonely dark house - dark and cold because of my own irresponsibility in setting priorities, foregoing the light bill in exchange for happy hour. Lonely by subconscious design. This morning, I am listening to little girl giggles and Spongebob in the next room, with the scent of turkey roasting in the oven and the brilliant cool sunshine splashing on my kitchen floor - I am wearing a robe that feels like a hug and wondering what time I should get the boys up for a long day of nothing much other than food and football.
-- I think about being angry and resentful and wishing everyone would adequately apologize for making my life awful. If (blank) would just (blank), then I would be happy. If I could just have (blank), then everything would be ok. I remember coming to the understanding that I am the problem, not you...and that He has the answer, not me. Oh what a delight to find Him and come to understand how very very much He loves me!
And so it is that I give thanks. Thanks to the family and friends who have loved me each day of this abundant life - and profound thanks to the one who literally loved me enough to die for me, to take all my selfish nastiness to the cross and make me clean and new.
In 2 Corinthians 12, the Lord tells Paul that "my grace is sufficient for you". How very thankful I am today for His grace - and that all I have to do is give myself to Him and get out of His way.
The sweet sincerity of love for spouses, children, friends...
The gratitude for material comfort, warm/dry shelter, an abundance of clothing...
The appreciation for our country as well as our communities...
...these posts make me smile with the assurance that I am firmly planted in a garden full of God's most beautiful children as my friends.
For the first 30+ years of my life, though, I couldn't see that. I generally parked my heart in a dark muddy place, where glimmers of God's light would filter through from time to time, but I often sat in grumpy loathing of you, Him, and most of all myself. Things weren't fair, you see. If things were fair (according to my definition at the time), I would've been thinner, funnier, prettier, richer, smarter...just plain BETTER. I would have more stuff and less trouble, and then I would finally be happy.
Chasing "better" is exhausting and frankly foolish. Do I mean we shouldn't pursue our best selves? Heavens no...but the pursuit should not outrank the sufficience of today, of living in the present and seeing all the joy therein.
Simple examples -
-- I've learned how to meditate over the past several years, and the foundation of entering a meditative state is breathing - slowly, deeply and with concentration on each breath. The comfort of taking a good deep breath is among my simple pleasures.
-- I think about the feeling of being sick at my stomach, awash in nausea and trying desperately to hold still. The impatient plea to feel better yet the sweaty misery of waiting to be sick...now I think about that moment of relief where I realize it has subsided, that the storm in my gut is over and I can rest.
-- I remember sitting in a cold, lonely dark house - dark and cold because of my own irresponsibility in setting priorities, foregoing the light bill in exchange for happy hour. Lonely by subconscious design. This morning, I am listening to little girl giggles and Spongebob in the next room, with the scent of turkey roasting in the oven and the brilliant cool sunshine splashing on my kitchen floor - I am wearing a robe that feels like a hug and wondering what time I should get the boys up for a long day of nothing much other than food and football.
-- I think about being angry and resentful and wishing everyone would adequately apologize for making my life awful. If (blank) would just (blank), then I would be happy. If I could just have (blank), then everything would be ok. I remember coming to the understanding that I am the problem, not you...and that He has the answer, not me. Oh what a delight to find Him and come to understand how very very much He loves me!
And so it is that I give thanks. Thanks to the family and friends who have loved me each day of this abundant life - and profound thanks to the one who literally loved me enough to die for me, to take all my selfish nastiness to the cross and make me clean and new.
In 2 Corinthians 12, the Lord tells Paul that "my grace is sufficient for you". How very thankful I am today for His grace - and that all I have to do is give myself to Him and get out of His way.
03 November 2012
At Home With The Mister
Although the cardiologist turned him loose at 8:30 a.m., and the nephrologist followed suit shortly before lunch, it was nearly 3 p.m. when the Mister and I pulled into our driveway yesterday afternoon.
Approaching our house, I noticed that our mailbox didn't look right. My eyesight isn't what it once was, and all I could see in the distance was that there was something big on the mailbox.
As we got closer, I let out one of my signature, "awwwww!" noises, usually prompted by something that moves my heart.
For there on our mailbox was a huge white posterboard sign on our mailbox to welcome him home, complete with balloons and ribbons. The Mister turned and thanked me, saying, "you didn't have to do that, sweetie".
Aghast and amused, I said, "don't worry, I didn't!"
I am a little annoyed that I didn't think of it myself, but I am eternally grateful to the person who did.
So, to the anonymous do-gooder who made the Mister's homecoming that much more special - we love you and thank you.
***************************
He is home. HOME. You just don't know how much you miss it until you can't go there. It's one thing to electively vacate, say to the beach or on a business trip, but to be restricted by health is altogether different.
Not sure much has changed in the nine days since he went to the ER, but he was elated to climb the stairs, survey the messy living room and crawl between his own sheets with Olivia (his body pillow - yes, we name our pillows. Like you don't.)
He is a tad weak and tires easily; but he is HOME.
Approaching our house, I noticed that our mailbox didn't look right. My eyesight isn't what it once was, and all I could see in the distance was that there was something big on the mailbox.
As we got closer, I let out one of my signature, "awwwww!" noises, usually prompted by something that moves my heart.
For there on our mailbox was a huge white posterboard sign on our mailbox to welcome him home, complete with balloons and ribbons. The Mister turned and thanked me, saying, "you didn't have to do that, sweetie".
Aghast and amused, I said, "don't worry, I didn't!"
I am a little annoyed that I didn't think of it myself, but I am eternally grateful to the person who did.
So, to the anonymous do-gooder who made the Mister's homecoming that much more special - we love you and thank you.
***************************
He is home. HOME. You just don't know how much you miss it until you can't go there. It's one thing to electively vacate, say to the beach or on a business trip, but to be restricted by health is altogether different.
Not sure much has changed in the nine days since he went to the ER, but he was elated to climb the stairs, survey the messy living room and crawl between his own sheets with Olivia (his body pillow - yes, we name our pillows. Like you don't.)
He is a tad weak and tires easily; but he is HOME.
May I Help You?
I have been pondering this topic for a while now, even before Dave's recent health crises. The thing I want to talk about stretches back to when my mother died in 2007.
Let me begin with gratitude. The fact that we have dozens of friends and family who love us is a miracle in itself. The Mister and I have been unloveable on a number of occasions (but then again, who hasn't...), yet when the rubber meets the road, when life gets sloppy and painful, we are covered in love and prayer from all fronts.
Just as when my mom passed away, I've recently received a humbling number of offers of assistance which usually sound something like this:
"How can I help you?"
"What do you need?"
"Tell me what I can do for you".
"No matter what, I am here for you and will do whatever I can to help out".
Beautiful, bountiful, generous and sincere extensions - I know I have made every single one of these comments myself. When I say them, I mean it with all my heart - when a friend is suffering from pain or grief or loss, I really would do nearly anything they asked me to do. All they have to do is ask. Just ask me, and I'm there.
But you'll have to ask me. If you don't tell me what you need, then I am going to assume that a) you don't need/want my help, or b) you are ok. The proverbial ball is in your court.
**************
In recent days, when people have said things like, "just let me know what you need", I have responded with blank stares, confusion and either speechlessness or garbled stammering. The best I could come up with was a half-hearted, "I sure will - thanks for offering".
You see, I have no idea what I need.
I need to keep putting one foot in front of the other...I know that much. I need to pray and stay strong in my faith...this is unequivocally the best thing I can do in ANY situation.
But what do I need that others can help with? I feel awkward when someone asks me how they can help me. What if I ask for something that they really don't want to do, or maybe they really can't do it? What if they're not all that sincere in their offer and then I decide to take them up on it? What if I ask for help with something that I really ought to be able to do for myself?
For people like me who spend a ridiculous amount of time between their own ears, it's very difficult to ask for help.
While I am profoundly grateful for every single offer of assistance I've received during the Mister's ordeal, I must confess weepy appreciation for those people who approached me with specifics.
"We are bringing you meals for the next two weeks. Do you have any diet restrictions?"
"OK if I take the kids to my house today?"
"My husband would like to mow your lawn next week."
"Can we feed the dog for you?"
"I would like to come sit with you at the hospital for a while."
By proposing something specific, you've eliminated 99% of my mental gymnastics. You've told me what you are willing to do, and all that's expected of me is to accept your offer or graciously decline.
Next time I'm given the opportunity to offer support to someone, I'm going to be specific by offering something I know I would be pleased and available to do. I don't want them to have to think about anything more than a yes-or-no answer.
Let me begin with gratitude. The fact that we have dozens of friends and family who love us is a miracle in itself. The Mister and I have been unloveable on a number of occasions (but then again, who hasn't...), yet when the rubber meets the road, when life gets sloppy and painful, we are covered in love and prayer from all fronts.
Just as when my mom passed away, I've recently received a humbling number of offers of assistance which usually sound something like this:
"How can I help you?"
"What do you need?"
"Tell me what I can do for you".
"No matter what, I am here for you and will do whatever I can to help out".
Beautiful, bountiful, generous and sincere extensions - I know I have made every single one of these comments myself. When I say them, I mean it with all my heart - when a friend is suffering from pain or grief or loss, I really would do nearly anything they asked me to do. All they have to do is ask. Just ask me, and I'm there.
But you'll have to ask me. If you don't tell me what you need, then I am going to assume that a) you don't need/want my help, or b) you are ok. The proverbial ball is in your court.
**************
In recent days, when people have said things like, "just let me know what you need", I have responded with blank stares, confusion and either speechlessness or garbled stammering. The best I could come up with was a half-hearted, "I sure will - thanks for offering".
You see, I have no idea what I need.
I need to keep putting one foot in front of the other...I know that much. I need to pray and stay strong in my faith...this is unequivocally the best thing I can do in ANY situation.
But what do I need that others can help with? I feel awkward when someone asks me how they can help me. What if I ask for something that they really don't want to do, or maybe they really can't do it? What if they're not all that sincere in their offer and then I decide to take them up on it? What if I ask for help with something that I really ought to be able to do for myself?
For people like me who spend a ridiculous amount of time between their own ears, it's very difficult to ask for help.
While I am profoundly grateful for every single offer of assistance I've received during the Mister's ordeal, I must confess weepy appreciation for those people who approached me with specifics.
"We are bringing you meals for the next two weeks. Do you have any diet restrictions?"
"OK if I take the kids to my house today?"
"My husband would like to mow your lawn next week."
"Can we feed the dog for you?"
"I would like to come sit with you at the hospital for a while."
By proposing something specific, you've eliminated 99% of my mental gymnastics. You've told me what you are willing to do, and all that's expected of me is to accept your offer or graciously decline.
I know beyond doubt that each person offering help over these past weeks
would have done absolutely anything I asked them to do -
that's just who they are.
It's my own mental state that kept me from asking.
Next time I'm given the opportunity to offer support to someone, I'm going to be specific by offering something I know I would be pleased and available to do. I don't want them to have to think about anything more than a yes-or-no answer.
01 November 2012
Docking Procedure Complete
In honor of the nuclear aircraft carrier U.S.S. Carl Vinson and the starship Enterprise, my Navy veteran and Trekkie husband named this post.
We also kicked the tires on "the eagle has landed" or "the package has been delivered", but Navy-speak is always his preference.
Having taken the children to their respective schools this morning, I stopped at Starbucks (aka "Fivebucks", per the Mister) on my way to the hospital. After all, it was 8:05, and his procedure wasn't scheduled until 10. I got my skinny caramel latte and was just putting the key in the ignition when he called and said, "they're running ahead of schedule and are going to take me down at 9. What's your ETA?"
I advised that I was on my way and should be there by 8:30. Got on the highway and headed to the hospital; upon arriving in the parking lot, my phone rang again - the Mister said, "where are you, they are taking me now." What the heck?! So I busted my tail getting in and up to his room so I could grab his iStuff before his room was pillaged - thankfully he hadn't gone to the cath lab yet, so I got a smooch and rode down the elevator with him.
At 10 a.m., he was finished and we got to speak with Dr. Yen (the cardiologist du jour from Northeast Georgia Heart Center) who did the procedure.
Tuesday's diagnostic heart cath showed two major blockages; 95% and 80% respectively in the Mister's left anterior descending artery, or LAD (I am getting really good at cardiovascular lingo).
Today's placement of a balloon and a single stent has opened the entire LAD to 100%. How about them apples?!
Dr. Yen is really good; he patiently answered my amateur, WebMD-based questions and gave the Mister an enthusiastic thumbs-up for Friday discharge from the hospital.
One possible but unlikely hurdle - the nephrologist has to give the green light as well. Now that you are also an expert in kidney function as demonstrated by creatinine levels, you will understand why we are so happy with this morning's reading of 1.9. Best it's been since this party started on October 24th, so we are optimistic that the Mister will be comfortably squared away in his recliner for the Alabama-LSU game on Saturday night.
Have to share a quick funny with you that I meant to post yesterday. The Mister had several beloved visitors yesterday morning, but he was wiped out by mid-afternoon. We pulled the blinds and turned off all the lights so he could get some rest, and I read quietly in the corner. The door opened, and in walked a little man from the business office.
Now it's important to point out that both the Mister and I have worked in healthcare business operations for many, many years. We understand more than most the importance of getting all the insurance information correct before the patient flies the coop; too much healthcare $$ gets written off because it's impossible to collect. What are they going to do, re-po a stent? I think not.
Anyway, this little guy goes over our benefits with us, and while it's been a terrible year from the health status perspective, we met our deductible and out-of-pocket max several weeks ago. This $50k hospital visit is going to cost us about $400 or less. We smiled with the little man, and I shook his hand, and we waited on him to leave.
Only he didn't.
Instead, he proceeded to share way too much information about heart disease as experienced by random members of his family. We learned about his drug-addicted cousin in Mumbai and his cocaine-induced arrhythmia; his own difficult divorce and how that crazy wench broke his heart; his father's hypertension and its response to high sodium intake...and after about ten minutes of his soliloquy, we started giving increasingly rude signals that we were ready for him to leave. The Mister turned away and went back to sleep. I broke eye contact and began typing away on my laptop. I glanced at the clock a couple of times...yet he apparently has difficulty interpreting social signals because he continued to yammer on. I finally had to say, "I think we're done here, don't you?", at which point his eyebrows went up and he came to the realization that he'd worn out his welcome.
It's now a few minutes after noon, and the Mister is snoozing peacefully, no doubt dreaming of his own bed and wearing warm flannel jammie pants straight from the dryer. Looking forward to having him back there this time tomorrow, or shortly thereafter.
We also kicked the tires on "the eagle has landed" or "the package has been delivered", but Navy-speak is always his preference.
Having taken the children to their respective schools this morning, I stopped at Starbucks (aka "Fivebucks", per the Mister) on my way to the hospital. After all, it was 8:05, and his procedure wasn't scheduled until 10. I got my skinny caramel latte and was just putting the key in the ignition when he called and said, "they're running ahead of schedule and are going to take me down at 9. What's your ETA?"
I advised that I was on my way and should be there by 8:30. Got on the highway and headed to the hospital; upon arriving in the parking lot, my phone rang again - the Mister said, "where are you, they are taking me now." What the heck?! So I busted my tail getting in and up to his room so I could grab his iStuff before his room was pillaged - thankfully he hadn't gone to the cath lab yet, so I got a smooch and rode down the elevator with him.
At 10 a.m., he was finished and we got to speak with Dr. Yen (the cardiologist du jour from Northeast Georgia Heart Center) who did the procedure.
Tuesday's diagnostic heart cath showed two major blockages; 95% and 80% respectively in the Mister's left anterior descending artery, or LAD (I am getting really good at cardiovascular lingo).
Today's placement of a balloon and a single stent has opened the entire LAD to 100%. How about them apples?!
Dr. Yen is really good; he patiently answered my amateur, WebMD-based questions and gave the Mister an enthusiastic thumbs-up for Friday discharge from the hospital.
One possible but unlikely hurdle - the nephrologist has to give the green light as well. Now that you are also an expert in kidney function as demonstrated by creatinine levels, you will understand why we are so happy with this morning's reading of 1.9. Best it's been since this party started on October 24th, so we are optimistic that the Mister will be comfortably squared away in his recliner for the Alabama-LSU game on Saturday night.
Have to share a quick funny with you that I meant to post yesterday. The Mister had several beloved visitors yesterday morning, but he was wiped out by mid-afternoon. We pulled the blinds and turned off all the lights so he could get some rest, and I read quietly in the corner. The door opened, and in walked a little man from the business office.
Now it's important to point out that both the Mister and I have worked in healthcare business operations for many, many years. We understand more than most the importance of getting all the insurance information correct before the patient flies the coop; too much healthcare $$ gets written off because it's impossible to collect. What are they going to do, re-po a stent? I think not.
Anyway, this little guy goes over our benefits with us, and while it's been a terrible year from the health status perspective, we met our deductible and out-of-pocket max several weeks ago. This $50k hospital visit is going to cost us about $400 or less. We smiled with the little man, and I shook his hand, and we waited on him to leave.
Only he didn't.
Instead, he proceeded to share way too much information about heart disease as experienced by random members of his family. We learned about his drug-addicted cousin in Mumbai and his cocaine-induced arrhythmia; his own difficult divorce and how that crazy wench broke his heart; his father's hypertension and its response to high sodium intake...and after about ten minutes of his soliloquy, we started giving increasingly rude signals that we were ready for him to leave. The Mister turned away and went back to sleep. I broke eye contact and began typing away on my laptop. I glanced at the clock a couple of times...yet he apparently has difficulty interpreting social signals because he continued to yammer on. I finally had to say, "I think we're done here, don't you?", at which point his eyebrows went up and he came to the realization that he'd worn out his welcome.
It's now a few minutes after noon, and the Mister is snoozing peacefully, no doubt dreaming of his own bed and wearing warm flannel jammie pants straight from the dryer. Looking forward to having him back there this time tomorrow, or shortly thereafter.
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