Aug. 3rd, 2013

kshandra: (Wedding)
copied from an email to our respective mothers, sent yesterday around 5:15pm )

This and all other updates to the situation are now being crossposted to CaringBridge; feel free to share that link with people who may want to stay informed.
kshandra: The Burning Man effigy, lit in blue neon, arms by his sides; an orange half-moon is visible over his shoulder. (Default)
  • Ate breakfast (turkey & cheddar on the toast left over from Wed/Thu at Mini Gourmet)
  • Electronically signed the paperwork for ACCC
  • Filed [personal profile] gridlore's disability paperwork
  • Renewed Doug's MedicAlert membership for three years (with thanks to the contributions I've received for expenses) and brought ALL of the information current

Still to do:
  • Take my fucking meds already!
  • Shower
  • Laundry (was supposed to go to [personal profile] murphymom's for this, but I think I may just do one load here to get me through)
  • Stop by work to print out receipt from disability form
  • Hospital; add receipt to chart for his MD to certify the disability claim
  • Stop by Doug's office to pick up his insurance check
  • Meet [ profile] plymouth at Hobee's for yarn geeking and dinner

Need to steal Doug's "DONE" stamp icon.
kshandra: (Wedding)
I was at the office printing out copies of [personal profile] gridlore's disability paperwork when my phone rang, and the caller ID said it was the hospital.

It turned out to actually be my mother-in-law at the hospital (she didn't have my cell number). Doug was awake, and they had taken him off the ventilator! And he was all the way back; when she asked if she should call me, his response was "She's going to wonder where I've been for the past three days."

I got to talk to him. I got to hold his hand. I got to feed him ice chips. I got to watch him doze off between sentences, and try to describe some of the fascinating hallucinations he was still having as the sedatives continue to have their way with him.

I have, as you might imagine, been profoundly worried about what neurological damage might be hiding underneath the propofol, but this was very clearly the man I married still inhabiting his skull. Oh, my god, I cannot even begin to tell you how good it was to have him look me in the eye...and groggily say, "I done fucked up." (I did tell him he was no longer allowed to overrule me when it comes to going to the hospital; he pointed to me, looked at his mother, and said "Listen to this woman, for she is wise.")

It sounds as though they're getting closer to a formal diagnosis of what happened, though I'm not ready to discuss it; no reason in forcing the rest of you to go through the same "we think it's this - no, wait, we think it's that" whiplash we've been dealing with since Wednesday night. Once we have something concrete, I'll make it known.

I'll be back in the morning. I'm looking forward to talking with him some more...even if what he says doesn't always make sense.
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