Hi, all. It's 9:30 a.m. Thursday, and it's been a long night. Nothing terrible, I should say right up front, but nothing fun, either. As the surgeons predicted, and friend Mark Matassa knowingly confirmed, stuff happens in these few days after such a big surgery, and you just don't feel good. John B. is having some ongoing trouble with nausea (sparing details here) and his kidneys have been misbehaving some. The good folks in Neuro ICU have been pulling out all the stops to address these things, and are, as I write, trying some new tricks. Cross your fingers that they'll figure it out soon.
In the meanwhile, John's trying to get some rest and command his kidneys to do their job. He had some luck this morning, so that is good. But he feels like hell.
I just spoke to Dr. Sekhar and he said the ICU should hang onto him til tomorrow at least, in order to keep him on the right path. I'm all for that. It's been quite an education in life's misery and grace up here.
Harborview is, if ever there was one, a world of hurt. In the neuro ICU alone, upwards of 30 patients are experiencing huge challenges, great pain, fear and worse. And yet all around me, I've been witness to exquisite moments of tenderness and expressions of human care. An elderly gentleman bending over his comatose wife, gently urging her, "Wake up, honey, so we can go home." A busy nurse in the dead of night, about to cause necessary pain to John, apologizing over and over, "I'm so sorry, John, so sorry." A dad coming to visit his 25-year-old daughter in the bed next door, speaking little English but clearly offering loving support and concern. The daughter, returned for a second surgery this morning, reassuring him in Vietnamese -- despite what I soon learned was almost unbearable pain. Once her dad was gone, she revealed this to her caregivers, apologizing for putting them to any sort of trouble.
Certainly, you can see it all at this county hospital. Some patients are here with armed guards standing over them; others suffer from a thousand sorts of self-inflicted maladies; still others are simply lost souls with noplace else to turn. But through it all, tender mercies abide.
Gratitude for that is my message today.
Wishing you good health and appreciating all your kindnesses,
Kathy
Wow, Kathy, you bring back vivid memories I have of the other-wordly feeling of that place (or any neuro-ICU). There are so many dramas and life-or-death situations playing out there every day, while life goes on as usual just outside the windows. I hope John's complications clear up soon and that he'll start feeling better. You guys will get there. It's just a lot of work. Hang in there.
ReplyDeleteThinking of John and you so much and hoping/praying all goes well. Thank you so much for the posting and your description. All human life indeed is at Harborview.
ReplyDeleteKristin
I'm thinking of both of you and wishing you well.
ReplyDeleteI got this message forwarded in an email from Tim. What vivid, heartfelt words.. thanks for taking the time to write about this experience for you both.
ReplyDeleteWow, powerful stuff. Thanks for the update, Kathy. Thinking of you both and wishing John a speedy recovery.
ReplyDeleteThanks for keeping us updated. We hope John feels better soon. We are sending healing thoughts.
ReplyDeleteWe talked to Bruce. Had lost the blog when we upgraded the computer. ICU in any hospital is high traffic area. Trauma and Drama with each patient. Will continue to keep John and you in our prayers and check the blog daily as he recovers. Gentle Hugs. Mike & Donna
ReplyDeleteWay to go John B! Glad to hear you're getting around!
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