Sunday too far away

Sunday feels too far away from recovery for Mae.  She's feeling a bit down today, doing it tough.  Wanting very much to be out of ICU and into an environment where time does not stand still to the same extent. Each minute is dragging for her, each hour lasts four hours and she can't believe it has only been a bit over a day.

Today, David stayed home to rest and recover and I went to the hospital solo arriving just in time to spend 10 minutes with Mae before the end of morning visiting hours. Nick had been there since the start. She was not happy. She had had a miserable long night and a long long morning before anyone arrived to take her mind off things. But on the positive side, she was sitting beside the bed in a chair! And feeling quite proud of herself that she was managing this. She had had chest pains in the night and breathlessness periodically. But blood tests and XRay showed nothing of concern. This is how it is for peritonectomy patients, they said. 


Nick and I went and had some lunch during rest period, 1 to 3.30, which is quite strictly enforced. 

By the afternoon visiting hours at 3.30pm, Mae was looking distressed and feeling anything but calm. I did the "breathe slowly" speech, stroked her forehead like I did when she was a baby and patted her hand.  Tried to find some words. The breathing slowed, the heartbeat calmed. Eventually she seemed to feel better.  The emotional and physical recovery is taking her by surprise with how difficult it is. Her hair is tangled, she itches from the morphine, her vision is blurry. She told me today when she first came to consciousness on Saturday she thought she had died already because she was alone. Then a nurse came and spoke and she figured out she must be alive. Today, during the afternoon and evening, someone sat with her the whole time. Ric and Melissa were there too.  But it was still not easy for her when Nick and I were invited to leave at 8pm, the end of visiting hours.

There is a constantly changing roster of nurses, so far not the same nurse twice. Tonight's nurse is African, with an Orphan Annie crop of red curly hair. She's great, cheerful, full of stories and very positive and personal.  Just what the doctor ordered.

Tomorrow, Lian arrives. It will be so good to see her and good for Mae too. And maybe tomorrow, Mae will be able to demonstrate good enough lung function to be able to graduate out of the constant-noise, constant-light, total dependency environment of ICU into the high dependency ward where she can have days followed by nights, and self-directed activity followed by sleep. But not until she's ready. For the time being I'm happy for her to be where she is, as hard as it is.