I think that my brain stopped working under real stress. I didn’t understand what the nurses were telling me about my husband;s condition. The cardiology floor is a busy place and I sat with him for hours gathering snippets of information about heart attacks, stents, after-care, ekgs, sonograms until I felt stuffed as a Thanksgiving turkey.
I woke up after a terrible night and drove to the hospital so early I beat the valet service. I arrived hours before visitors are allowed. I wanted to speak directly with his doctor. Do you understand that our cardiologist is part of a large group practice. The good part is that there is a continuity of care. The bad part is you never know which doctor will be covering on a specific day.
The doctor on duty had a pleasant manner and to my horror I heard myself ask if he had graduated from high school yet?
OMG. A bad start to a serious discussion. Luckily he had a sense of humor. He actually took the time to explain to me why my husband is on the medicine he’s taking. How they monitor the dosage and what to expect over the next few days.
So here I am. Depending on his progress: his warfarin will be adjusted until he reaches the proper dosage to keep another clot from forming; he’ll go to rehab if he needs to recover muscle mass from lying in bed; he’ll improve slowly over the next four to six weeks.
So. Another day to practice my patience with my patient.
Thanks for your prayers and support in this difficult time.
I’ve always believed that prayer works miracles.