Unchained

Today marks Jamie’s first full week here at UWMC as well as her release from the bonds of the IV pump. After breakfast this morning she took her first regiment of oral pain medication and within an hour they were disconnecting the IV pump and taking away her PCA button.

The detachment of the IV also made her first shower of the week possible, not only cleansing her body but also visibly refreshing her spirit. Showering was done with the assistance of Nurse May, who always knows just what to do to make her feel her best. I am now constantly living in her shadow, receiving comments such as “That isn’t how May does it…” as I fumble with her gown or the bed controls.

With discharge in sight, I took one last shower at the Silver Cloud before packing up and relinquishing my room, planning to stick it out with Jamie for the last few days. Don’t worry, there is a shower in the guest lounge on the 8th floor, so I promise not to let my hygiene slip.

Buzz and Nona Reynolds came this afternoon to bring Jamie some excellent lounge wear and a few childhood photos of the Reynolds / McLaughlin gang. I always enjoy their company and was particularly touched by Buzz’s empathy for me regards my recent change in hair cut professionals. I also found out that Nona has been purposely keeping Buzz from using the internet so as to prevent him from viewing Craigslist. Buzz, come on buy next week and I will give you some personal instruction. As Ken Sr. will tell you, once you discover Craiglist, you will no longer feel the need to sleep. And don’t the women worry about us spending too much $$, there is plenty of good stuff for free on there.

Sounds like the Reynolds clan need their own blog site just to publish all the news from their side of 302; congratulations Jeff on your engagement.

The transition from the IV was a success and Jamie spent most of midday day circling the halls of our wing beaming like a kid on a new bike, dazzling doctors, nurses, patients and guests alike with her ever increasing lap times. I love to see her smile.

With increased activity comes a better appetite and I can no longer rely on Jamie’s leftovers for nourishment. I did however have enough foresight to get her to mark the PB cookie and some milk at lunchtime for I knew she would readily give it up. Yes, this is a hint as to my current cookie status; I have resorted to eating commercially made cookies.

Tonight Jamie’s dinner came, which included everything but macaroni and cheese. So I trotted down to the cafeteria to procure some and to my disappointment they appeared to be out. Eager to please, I decided to ask. The woman behind the counter began to explain that they sold out when she was interrupted by a heavily accented man, who asked “is this for a patient?”. I said yes, for my wife and he said “why doesn’t she just ask for it to be served to her?”. I attempted to explain to him that she had filled out the menu herself the prior eve and that she had ordered macaroni for lunch and now desired it again. He seemed perplexed and pointed to a container on the counter, indicating that the woman should give it to me. She hesitated, but he nodded and I gleefully put it on my tray. I thanked him and before I turned he continued to elaborate on how each floor of the hospital has a “nourishment” room which contains an array of foods such as cheese & crackers, ice cream, cereal and even microwavable macaroni.

I had heard of this mysterious nourishment room, but was sternly warned by the nursing staff to stay out, with the explanation that some quarantined patients had entered the room thereby compromising others’ health, forcing them to close it to non staff members. I explained this to the man in the cafeteria and he rebuffed this idea and said that this area should be accessible to all and that the food was for the patients.

Have I stumbled across some great conspiracy on 7 SE, where the nurses are keeping some plethora of tasty snack hidden from me? Has my reputation as a perpetual snacker scared them? Or maybe it was my vomiting that has kept them quite, based on a fear that I might gorge myself and then just puke it up in the hall.?

I promptly returned to our room to find the evening nurse medicating Jamie. I immediately started interrogating her, “why have you been keeping this information from us?”, “where do you keep the ice cream and macaroni?”. She was skillfully evasive and indirect, solid as a rock, unbreakable. She responded in a polite nurse tone with “all you have to do is ask, I would be happy to get something for you” and “we might have some frozen Lean Cuisine, but it is not as good as the cafeteria”. Tomorrow I will try a different approach using Jamie as my ally……

Jess and Shane came tonight for a long visit, and I watched Shane squirm as Jamie recounted the prior month’s events in vivid detail. This of course reminded me of myself not to long ago when watching a blood draw or an IV being installed would be more than I could handle, forcing me to sit down and focus if I was to remain lucid. Funny how circumstances quickly harden you and we rise to the occasion, especially for the ones we love. I thought I would have difficulty looking at Jamie’s incisions or watching the nurses work. But both necessity and the hope for a positive outcome have re shaped my view, and I find the uncompromising strength to be by her side to comfort her through these challenges.

Jess and Shane brought a nice bundle of magazines (which tastefully did not include Oprah) as well as a huge bag of Tootsie rolls, a sort of methadone to get me through these cookieless nights. Thanks for the mags, they do a great job of filling the expanse of time that comes with the healing process, and are an excellent sleep aid when you are hyped up. Good luck on day 3 Shane.