Damn it. We are back in the hospital. Since Tuesday, damn it.
I never said it but I thought it. I was driving and against my better judgment I thought it. It was a fleeting thought but there it was, me thinking everything was normal, me basking in the glory of not worrying about the next shoe to drop. That was Monday; I was riding high tempting fate.
Marty gets urinary tract infections, it happens with some regularity and it is part and parcel of her strokes. To combat her propensity for UTIs Marty takes a daily prophylactic antibiotic that has helped but not completely stopped the infections. UTIs can be debilitating, causing some pain, causing a general funky feeling and even causing a little cognitive impairment. That’s why we take these infections seriously and react quickly.
Months ago, through the direction of Great and Wise we started working with a home health nurse that comes about every three weeks to get and test Marty’s pee. The most recent test indicated a urinary tract infection. That was last Friday. We started the typical antibiotic and frankly Marty seemed to be doing great.
Monday, the day I was driving, the day the thought of normalcy flashed through my melon, the home health nurse called and said the normal antibiotic was not going to work. Marty had Pseudomonas Aeruginosa in her pee and we needed something different. Okay, no biggie, I called Great and Wise, just change the antibiotic, we will be good as new.
Then it got a little complicated. I talked to nurse Wendy and she said yep, Levaquin was not going to be our friend this time. The only friendly antibiotic that Marty wasn’t allergic too required intravenous feeding, thus she is sentenced to five to seven days in the hospital with no possibility of peerole or pardon.
After consultation with the Great Office of Great and Wise we delayed our check in just a tad. I had a meeting with the fabulous Sheryl, our financial guru, and we badly needed haircuts. We did both of those things and checked into Providence Hospital on Tuesday at 3:30, just like The Hilton but without the mini bar but a really cool moving bed.
This whole process is a little scary because it is exactly what happened five years ago when Marty had her last and worst seizure, a seizure so powerful she broke her left arm as she laid in bed being treated for the exact same illness we are dealing with today. It’s a little déjà vuie and not in a good way, in fact, in a very bad way, that was a dark time.
That hasn’t happened this time. We got past that first day and no seizures. All of Marty’s blood work is coming back with good numbers, her chest is clear and she is actually feeling okay. I give her about two days before she gets really stir crazy. She will probably get a little nuts and her dirty hair will bother her because she is doing her five to seven days for possessing bad pee.
When the new nurse came last night she asked several Marty several basic questions to determine her cognitive functioning and orientation as to time and place. She never knows the year and bless her heart she still thinks George Bush is President which is kind of like living in the Twilight Zone forever.
She answered all of the other questions perfectly and with vim and vigor with just a hint of sarcasm.
To conclude the visit the nurse turned to Marty and asked, “Do you know why you are here?”
Marty, without pausing, jerks her right thumb to me, the poor goober sitting to her right minding his own business and says, “Yeah, him.”
Okay, yes I brought her here; no I didn’t have anything to do with stinky pee. I’m just glad we have good people taking care of her so I will take the rap and play the snitch, this time.