Even though it appears no one at that hospital talks to each other. But I'll get to that in a bit.murphymom
and I had a wonderful morning, doing a bit of shopping for her trip tomorrow, grabbing lunch, then going for mani-pedis together. We went to a slightly pricier salon than usual, but the treatment you get there (a hot-stone calf massage as part of the pedicure!) is worth it, IMO.
We had quite literally just
gotten started at the salon when my phone rings, and gridlore
asks me, "How soon can you get here?" It's something like 1:15, and he hasn't been able to eat yet today, because nobody can tell him whether or not they're doing the *&^%$#@! abdominal CT that they had to reschedule from last night.
I had a second load of laundry I'd been planning on doing once Mom dropped me off, but instead I grabbed my knitting and a bottle of soda for each of us and headed over to the hospital. Mercifully, by the time I got into the truck, Doug had come back from x-ray and had been able to order lunch.
I was pulling into the parking lot when I realized that I'd neglected to grab his earbuds and an extension cord for his phone charger. I figured I could at least get the former at the gift shop, but when all they had was Hello Kitty, I opted against it. :-P Walked out in time to see Doug's mom about 20 feet ahead of me; managed to get her attention, and we went up to the room together. She left after about an hour.
Somewhere in here, the kitchen called to find out if Doug would be placing a dinner order; he let them know he was still waiting to hear on his testing schedule, and promised he would call back before they closed.
Doug's rash has finally subsided enough that he's able to move without pain (the inflammation has been such that his skin was too tight; anyone who has ever dealt with edema knows exactly what I'm talking about here), so PT came by. He actually did two laps to the elevator and back, with a break in between; we had an entertaining discussion about cane sugar Coca-Cola while he caught his breath. The therapist gave him some stretching exercises to do in bed before he stands up, just to loosen the skin while the inflammation continues to subside...and then said that he'd looked steady enough that I'm welcome to take him for walks when I come visit! She asked that we call the nurse the first time we go out, just so they can observe and assure themselves that I'm capable of handling the situation, but that we should be fine on our own after that.
Had a visit from one of the rapid response nurses after the PT session; their team was alerted to Doug's case after some of his recent labwork, and they wanted to check in and make sure he wasn't at risk for sepsis or anything equally special. Satisfied that there was no cause for concern on that front, she took off, promising Doug she would check in with his primary nurse and ask her to find out if he was scheduled for anything else tonight.
When the nurse came in with his afternoon meds, she asked if he had ordered dinner yet. :-/ And then told him to go ahead and do it anyway, because they could always reheat something for him if he did get sent to CT. He didn't call in an order, largely because lunch was late enough and large enough that he really didn't have an appetite, and he was planning to doze on and off for the rest of the evening. I took that as my cue, kissed him goodbye, and left.
Got home early enough to do my second load of laundry, and had just brought it in from the dryer when the phone rang. It was Doug, calling to tell me that they'd moved him to a new room (he'd been in a semi-private with no roommate, and they'd had a patient come up to the ward who needed the extra space for some reason or another). "They would have to do this after they'd already given me my sleeping pill," he said...
And they'd sent him a dinner tray anyway. o.O He never even opened it.
Tomorrow I'm taking advantage of the fact that I'd already said I would be coming in late; obviously, we no longer have the conference with his treatment team at Mission Oaks, but I'm using that time to go to the Social Security office and find out what needs to be done to reactivate his previous federal disability claim.
Now, though, it is past time for me to go to sleep. And so I shall.