It seems like it's been a year since I've had a minute to sit, to reflect and to write. I am so sorry.
Life has been on a crash course with itself. Minutes have become precious and are spent very carefully. Between it being the most busy time of year at work and trying to keep up with the house, the majority of my time has been spent trying to nurse hubby back to health.
It's quiet right now.
He's in the drug induced sleep that he spends most of his days and nights in right now. We've had two stays in the hospital, a second surgery scheduled, planned and cancelled all in a day. It's been a bit since he's left the bedroom, must less the bed. The top of his night stand looks like a pharmaceutical nightmare (something a medication-phobe like me has a lot of trouble with).
And basically it seems we are simply waiting. He is waiting in extreme pain, barely able to walk. Not because his leg won't hold him, it's solid, it's strong. Because the pain deep inside almost brings him to his knees.
I have found my inner tiger where he is concerned though. Normally, I will accept what you say, I will accept whatever information you give me as a medical professional. After all, you spent a great deal of time in school and practice to be knowledgeable about stuff that I am ignorant.
In the past almost four months (it will be a solid four months on Tuesday) I have learned so much. I am learning more, and I am learning a great deal about the medical field. Enough to know I am ticked off!
On my sweet daughter's 30th birthday, when we should have been celebrating my precious baby and what an amazing woman she is, we rushed to the ER - on the direction of the doctor that had finally run tests for infection. Hubby had been a mess when we'd gone for a simple procedure that Monday, I personally wanted him in the hospital then, but he refused.
He wanted him in the hospital immediately. Three and a half hours later they'd finally at least taken him to a room in the ER, only after I called the doctor that told me to take him there and asked why I was subjecting him to more pain and potential sickness sitting in the waiting room. Two hours later one of the doctors that had seen him on a previous ER visit walked in. Took one look at him and said "I remember you, you are the one that thought you were in pain". I told him that I remembered him too, and that I would please like for him to call our doctor and to get me a different doctor as I refused to deal with him.
Many hours later the hospitalist came in. It was ironic, here it was my girl's birthday and I was sitting in the ER with a semi-coherent hubby, and in walks a "Damien". The irony, is that my son-in-law truly loved my hubby. He would do anything for or with him. It felt like he'd sent him. The hospitalist was kind, determined to figure it out, and answered all questions asked. He didn't act like we were a problem, he had true compassion and understood poor hubby was very sick.
The new team was thorough, caring and determined not to listen to the "it's not the hip, it's the back" "it's not the back, it's the hip". The day time hospitalist was the sweetest woman, that looked at me with tears in her eyes and told me that she would insure we figured it out. That it was not an option. That they would bring in anyone they needed to in order to finally heal him.
Many, many tests later, and completely without any solid answers they decided to see if the bulging disk truly was the problem even though they couldn't see how in any of the many, many, many MRI's, X-rays, or CT's they had done. The initial results on the fluid injected and removed from the hip had not given any other answers.
His numbers were rising indicating infection of some sort, but none of the tests were revealing any answers.
With great hesitancy I brought him home. Evidently the combination of drugs in his system had him stable enough to feel amazing and they didn't want to risk infection before going into his spine.
Well, that combination wore off before he was home for 5 hours. And it's been a battle since.
The morning of the surgery, with a migraine pounding behind my eyes I was debating on even going into work for an hour or two before surgery. Feelings of apprehension were overwhelming me. Just as I started to dry my hair hubby's phone rang. It was the hip doctor. Not the back surgeon.
Ice water ran through both our veins. One of the cultures came back with bacterium. They had finally identified a staph infection in his new hip. The reason for the delay was they were trying to concoct an antibiotic mix strong enough to kill it without harming him. A few phone calls, a trip to the hospital and several trips to Walgreens later we had at least enough of this combination to get started on treating him, and a possibility of finally curing him.
That was 3 days ago. He's barely been awake, but seems to be walking better. I am still praying that this will finally cure him, that he will finally be up walking and living his life. I know it is killing him emotionally to be laying there. Even his beloved television isn't keeping him entertained. I guess the fact that this current amount of medication is making him sleep so much is a positive thing in that aspect.
Me... I'm just waiting for the sparkle to be back in those mischievous blue eyes. Waiting for the wise cracks and the "funny" jokes. I'm a bit tired. Luckily at least for now my FMS seems to know that I need to be at 100%.
Winter has faded in a blur, Spring arrived and I barely noticed. The routine right now is simply survival. As he is home from the hospital this weekend, I am going to do some sewing. I caught up the housework and I will make him some good food to warm his belly and heart.
And I will pray. I know that we have an army of pray warriors, so I am not entirely stressed. I know all things happen in God's time, not mine. But there are moments...
So if I am missing a bit, please understand. Please know that it is very important to me to help my sweet hubby heal. To try to keep life as normal as possible. And to come out on the other side of this stronger!