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July 10, 2000
Is T-Cell Leukemia - Advanced Case.
I called my son in the hospital at 12:30 from
work, I was due to be there at 5:30 - and was told to arrive now. Seems
they had a cancellation and wanted to do surgery today. So much for running
my test labs. I grabbed my NT computer and ran for the car.
Staggered is a better description. I had the
3400c and its keyboard, a modem, its cables and cords and power plugs
hanging in a padded case from one arm, the NT and its mouse and power
supply (PCs can't handle both a keyboard and a mouse like the Macs can)
in its padded case hanging from my other hand. My purse and briefcase
were hanging there too. I looked like a pack mule. At least I could hang
them on the wheeled suitcase when I got to the hospital.
Parking at noontime is a royal pain, round
and round we go.
I ended up with a space and staggered up to
the room. I was prepared for a long stay. I had a chicken breast and a
bag of raw carrots in my purse.
While we waited, I put up the 3400C - it had
an internal modem - I had forgotten that - so it took a few passes for
me to get the codes right. I can't remember my Eudora password, I do have
a local access number for Best logon, and he can reach Netscape (and his
e-mail). Success!
The doctor (nicknamed "Dr. Stab and Go"
by my son), came in with paperwork. (She is rated as very very good.)
And they are now trying to explain about 15
pages of information on all the drugs.
In the midst of this they are also explaining
the difference between a port and the other chest implant (we chose the
port).
He gets to sign all the permissions - because
he is 18 - but his tone of voice had said to Mom very clearly that I had
to be there. Mom's know.
Again, they had told him not to eat. Again
I was counting people in and out of the room.
The social workers dropped in - I may have
a use for them. He needs to start college late. I may need an official
letter for Synopsys.
They take him in to pre-op - and we carried
on a bit much I guess. My son gets a sense of humor when stressed - he
must be really stressed.
He had me in tears I was laughing so hard.
A blond was taking his temp. I commented that
he was looking for a blond in a bikini.
He pointed at the nurse - "Like this one?"
(She was not a young thing - but a very nice older woman.)
She promptly began checking to see what drugs
he was on.
The Russian (?) anesthesiologist (I think)
came (also a blond and attractive) checked in - he had a go at her too.
He is very sharp.
At one point the nurses came over to tell
us we were having way too much fun.
After another doctor or two checked in (I
knew the medical history so I did need to be there), they finally rolled
him to surgery.
Now I wait. I get coffee - I can now navigate
the floors to the cafe and back.
I read.
I pace around.
I had my chicken and my carrots.
The Russian came out to tell me my son was
a jewel. He was a really good patient. She said that he was the kind of
patient that made the day better.
He's a good kid.
She also mentioned that she has an 18-year-old
daughter.
I finally get to go back to recovery - he
is not quite awake.
I worry that he might be cold (I always shiver)
- they have heat lamps on him.
A nurse is holding O2 to his face - he is
struggling awake.
His eyes are tearing.
My heart is in shreds.
They had tried to take his temp using his
bad ear (healing from the biopsy). Seems he almost put them across the
room!
As he struggled aware he complained of the
taste. We got him apple juice (he turned down Popsicle - the doctors were
eating them).
We got three cans (small) of apple juice down
him and he gradually came out of it.
They X-rayed him - to be sure there is no
air in the lung or chest cavity.
There is a lot of joking around in recovery
- keep it light.
Then we roll him along to him room and again
struggle to move the beds and get him over and settled.
I stayed with him until about 9:30 PM, we
did e-mail and talked a bit, helped him get a little food down. Not much.
Just stayed near.
It was a very long day.
I returned to my house and my furry children
who are distressed.
They miss him.
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