A farewell, and hopefully not au revoir

I mean that in the nicest way. PT G believed her docs and social worker would be coming up with a rehab and care plan which would see her out of the hospital and back home. She really wanted to go home, enough time in the hospital (I think it must be 3 weeks or so).

Today she was not "woofy" at all. Apparently one of the things her docs have been working on is figuring out which of her meds were having which side effects: woofiness (spacey and dozy) was one, another was dry mouth, and some other things. She reported that the docs had said that this could be due to one particular med she was taking. Her roommate, PT T, went home today and she, PT G, and I sat and chatted for a while. She works in another hospital nearby. She talked about how long people have to wait in ERs in NYC (possibly elsewhere in the US?). She said this seemed so bizarre to her, that part of that wait seems to be because docs here like to use all kinds of diagnostic tools (MRIs, CTs, etc) all of which require waits for results, whereas in Russia, they tend to focus on first aid and treatment of what can be treated ASAP and thus people are in and out fast. I was saying that perhaps it's due to the way people use ERs here in the US, but didn't get to elaborate on how this differed from A & E use in the UK.

The asthma PT I encountered on Monday was also going back home today. She was in much better shape and in very good spirits. She talked about where she lives - nearby in assisted accommodation, in a studio in a place where there's dining rooms and they do everything for you but you also have a kitchen. She seemed very happy with it, her only regret being that no pets are allowed since she'd love to have a dog.

PT M, who had been almost completely out of it yesterday was more with it today, but still was not eating. He complained of a painful throat.

PT K was still there and he talked to me about politicians and how he was a-political since corruption seemed unavoidable. Later in the day his wife (I assume) came to visit, which was nice to see.

At the end of my shift, I went to say goodbye to PT G. She said some very nice things, expressing her appreciation of my keeping her company and helping her out. She shook my hands in farewell and, of course, appropriately said "I hope I never see you again", which I echoed (unless, she said, it was by chance on the street, but NOT in the hospital!).

Woofy and Bad Culture Results

This Monday I did the usual mixed bag of tasks. Monday seemed like a busy day. There were several new admissions, including one guy who was very tearful (PT H). He was so very hungry but was NPO prior to some procedure.

One PCA who'd been away for three weeks on vacation was back. She's very bubbly and friendly so she was missed. Another PCA was collecting for a baby shower gift for the PG PCA and asked me to sign the card and if I wanted to contribute. I did. I'm not sure if I'll make the party since I may be home with the kids.

The MDS lady, PT G, was still there, and didn't seem hopeful about leaving the next day. She seemed somewhat out of it again ("woofy" as she calls it). I sat with her and she talked. This time she told me a lot about her family - the social worker had made her get in touch with her brother, despite MDS lady's protestations. She gets along fine with her brother, but he's not nearby and is not someone who will be able to deal with affairs in her house and so forth.

Her family - her brother married three times, first time to a girl he got PG in high school. They had four children. He then married another woman, but they were not together very long. He married another woman, with whom he had a son who is a good kid now in the navy (having completed college). They separated because he longed to move to Las Vegas and stop having to deal with NE winters. She wanted to stay put, near her family. Conveniently, she was diagnosed with cancer and died shortly after, thus ending the marriage. PT G (MDS lady) had got along fine with all of these women, and children. The problem was her mother, who sounded like a difficult woman. She'd never liked wife no. 1 and had also not engaged with those grandchildren. The father just went along with this, despite of whatever opinion or feelings he may have had. The mother died of lung cancer around 10 years or so, which, said PT G, was fortunate since no one would have wanted to take care of her if she'd died after the father. The father also died about 3 years later. The upshot is, PT G is relying on her friend and her husband for assistance. However, there'll be a problem soon since her friend has to have surgery which will limit her movements.

The social worker is working with PT G to find a rehab facility near her home. Seems like the doctors and the SW are beginning to come up with a plan for ongoing care.

I also visited with PT K, who had gone home. He'd returned early that morning having spent the previous day on a different floor and prior to that 17 hours in the ER. He'd been at his rehab place when they got a call with blood culture results: one was positive for some kind of infection. He was ambivalent about going to the ER about this, since, in his experience this would be due to his catheter and would probably go away with no serious consequences. He was thus annoyed with himself since he allowed himself to be "brow-beaten" into going. Since he wasn't acute or a trauma PT, he'd spent 17 hours in the ER waiting for a room, then he was on the wrong floor (orthopedic) where they didn't understand his meds. Finally he gets to the oncho floor, by which time he learns that the result was erroneous and due to contamination. He was due for some more chemo by now, so he was staying put for a few days.

It seemed like the PT in the first room - nearest the station and always occupied by the most sick/needy PT is now occupied by a youngish man who is dying of cancer. He was very nice, but from time to time moans in pain when sitting on his commode.

I also helped PT G's roommate, a Russian Jew, PT T. She has her own food. She's kosher, but doesn't want the hospital food (they supply kosher food). She has bowls of soup one of which I heat up for her.

Back in the first room I met PT G, there's a sweet lady next to the window having breathing treatment. I joke with her that it looks like she's smoking something sketchy. She's in good spirits.

I go into a contact room to see PT M who is not A and O x3 - he knows who he is but not where or when. He's having trouble eating. I try to get him to eat his breakfast, but he won't.

I'm not able to say goodbye to PT G before I leave since I have to leave the room when her doctor comes.