I keep looking around for an oversized terry cloth robe and mini fridge stocked with mini vodka bottles, but alas, they do not seem to exist here.
Instead we have a toilet that floods the floor when flushed, a nurse who looks like Celine Dion’s grandma, and a transfusion pump that sounds like a dying cow.
It's glorious.
Hubs is an absolute beast. I am an absolute nut. They call us the Dynamic Duo.
The original plan to receive IV antibiotics via the port at home went out the window when a B Team home health nurse showed up, asking what exactly a port is and where it might be located. He informed us that he was there to educate us as to how we would self-inject the infusions through the port for the next 7 days.
We endured his silliness for 2 1/2 hours, at which point I broke out into hives, made a mad dash for the phone when no one was looking and called Dr. Szabo.
Turns out he was going to call us anyway to cancel the home health shenanigans and admit Chris due to the type of Staph infection and need for the port to be removed.
He will remain inpatient here through Tuesday (at least). We are cutting up and being bad, so with any luck, maybe they will kick us out sooner. Super Lori saved the day by keeping Cooper (since she was at the house anyway cleaning out our freezer…who knew there was a chicken casserole from 2006 in there all this time??). Mom just landed her helicopter from Macon and Chris’ mama is coming up in the morning. We are surrounded by love and plastic furniture.
Nothing says unconditional love like the sound of your thighs getting stuck to your plastic chair/bed, folks. Fabulous.
Hugs and lots of love for all of the prayers being sent up for Chris. When we are weak, He is strong.
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