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Mar. 9th, 2015 04:27 pm
Terrorphone
I've been making a conscious effort to ease off and stop being such a control freak about ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
monshu's health care, but every now and again something happens to remind me why I started doing this in the first place. On Friday, the tube for his JP drain fell out. Two or three weeks ago, I would've freaked out. I started to, in fact, when my mother texted me to let me know and asked what she should do. Then I remembered that there was a very responsive surgeon on call, as well as a couple of highly competent after-hours home health nurses, and I began to relax again. By the time I got home, I questioned why I'd been brought in initially at all, since my mother handled everything the way I would have but better. (She was able to have a technical conversation with the nurse about what she needed to bring to patch him up in the meantime.)
However, either she misunderstood what the surgeon told her or she miscommunicated it to us, because the Old Man and I were under the impression we had to call the surgical practice first thing this morning to see about scheduling an emergency replacement. But when we finally got through (they were having phone trouble) and got a message to the on-call surgeon, she called back saying there was no need to replace the drain unless he showed symptoms of ascites. I was like, "What would those be, distension and abdominal discomfort?" and she said, "You got it!" This was at about 10:30, so I was more than two hours late for no reason at all. (Which--I must remember--is still preferable in this case to being late for a good reason.)
But it wasn't all bad, since I was still awful groggy from DST, so I figured if I'm going to be late, why not be really late and get some more shuteye. So I went back to bed with the cat for about an hour before heading into work. The melting season is upon us and I was navigating around puddles the entire way. It's fairly horrifying to see what percentage of the dirty ice along the thoroughfares is composed of particulate matter and extrapolate from that what three months of Chicago's atmosphere must do to your lungs. But it's fun to take bets on which will be last snowpile standing.
monshu's health care, but every now and again something happens to remind me why I started doing this in the first place. On Friday, the tube for his JP drain fell out. Two or three weeks ago, I would've freaked out. I started to, in fact, when my mother texted me to let me know and asked what she should do. Then I remembered that there was a very responsive surgeon on call, as well as a couple of highly competent after-hours home health nurses, and I began to relax again. By the time I got home, I questioned why I'd been brought in initially at all, since my mother handled everything the way I would have but better. (She was able to have a technical conversation with the nurse about what she needed to bring to patch him up in the meantime.)However, either she misunderstood what the surgeon told her or she miscommunicated it to us, because the Old Man and I were under the impression we had to call the surgical practice first thing this morning to see about scheduling an emergency replacement. But when we finally got through (they were having phone trouble) and got a message to the on-call surgeon, she called back saying there was no need to replace the drain unless he showed symptoms of ascites. I was like, "What would those be, distension and abdominal discomfort?" and she said, "You got it!" This was at about 10:30, so I was more than two hours late for no reason at all. (Which--I must remember--is still preferable in this case to being late for a good reason.)
But it wasn't all bad, since I was still awful groggy from DST, so I figured if I'm going to be late, why not be really late and get some more shuteye. So I went back to bed with the cat for about an hour before heading into work. The melting season is upon us and I was navigating around puddles the entire way. It's fairly horrifying to see what percentage of the dirty ice along the thoroughfares is composed of particulate matter and extrapolate from that what three months of Chicago's atmosphere must do to your lungs. But it's fun to take bets on which will be last snowpile standing.
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