And she's out!
of the Cardio ICU. Yipee!!! My sister-in-law called about 2pm to say mum had been moved to a private room. We went in for 3pm as planned. Mum's new room is large, and she has her own bathroom (but you can't lock the door to it). The room was quite warm when we turned up but cooled down gradually as we lowered the thermostat and opened the window. Mum is on the fourth floor and overlooks a relatively picturesque clock tower above the main entrance to the hotel, and can read the time on the clock (she's long-long sighted). Mr W pointed out the QPR flood-lights which were also visible. We all had a cup of tea (with biscuits) and chatted. Mum seems to be mentally back to normal - the stroke doesn't seem to have damaged her personality or her intellect.
Her right eye is causing some issues. Apparently she can see some shapes and her right eye tries to make them into shapes she's seen before. For example, there was a piece of medical kit on the floor by her bed and she was convinced it was a person on the floor with an orange and cream stripey jumper. The machine had orange bands on it - so she can obviously see some things but her eye is having some fun filling in the blanks. She should be seeing an eye specialist and a neuro person soon; they will probably set those meetings in motion on Monday.
Mum is meant to cough because that will help her lung recover. She's on some nebuliser thing - I didn't fully understand the explanation the nurse gave so I asked again, and still didn't understand, so I left it. The nebuliser gives her steroids to do something to her lungs but seems to be making her cough. And she does not want to cough. I wouldn't either if I had an 8 inch zig-zag line (think pinking shears) down the centre of my chest, either. They are apparently going to try to synchronise the painkillers (di-hydra-codeine, one of Mr W's personal favourites, and tramadol) with the nebuliser to help her cough without feeling like she's falling apart.
We left about 5pm and picked up a radio in Argos on the way home. We've got to get it to the hospital by 10am tomorrow or she'll miss The Archers. We don't want to put her through that, on top of everything else she's been through!
I am so relieved. I think my dad is too. My mum is sniping a bit at the slow speed of her recovery and needs to be reminded she's not just had her tonsils out, and to take it easy and not worry about when she's leaving. She was announcing earlier today that she'd be home by the end of the week; because when she turned up they told her they would usually expect someone to stay six days in recovery and she's been in two days already. I think she might take longer, what with the minor complication of the collapsed lung (which is still draining).
The food is good (dad just called to tell me), she's in her own room, the nurse is pleasant, and all she has to do is sleep and recuperate. Really, really hoping that she's felt the worst she's going to feel already, and that my dad has seen the last of the disturbing sights he will just want to forget, and that from now on mum will get better.
Her right eye is causing some issues. Apparently she can see some shapes and her right eye tries to make them into shapes she's seen before. For example, there was a piece of medical kit on the floor by her bed and she was convinced it was a person on the floor with an orange and cream stripey jumper. The machine had orange bands on it - so she can obviously see some things but her eye is having some fun filling in the blanks. She should be seeing an eye specialist and a neuro person soon; they will probably set those meetings in motion on Monday.
Mum is meant to cough because that will help her lung recover. She's on some nebuliser thing - I didn't fully understand the explanation the nurse gave so I asked again, and still didn't understand, so I left it. The nebuliser gives her steroids to do something to her lungs but seems to be making her cough. And she does not want to cough. I wouldn't either if I had an 8 inch zig-zag line (think pinking shears) down the centre of my chest, either. They are apparently going to try to synchronise the painkillers (di-hydra-codeine, one of Mr W's personal favourites, and tramadol) with the nebuliser to help her cough without feeling like she's falling apart.
We left about 5pm and picked up a radio in Argos on the way home. We've got to get it to the hospital by 10am tomorrow or she'll miss The Archers. We don't want to put her through that, on top of everything else she's been through!
I am so relieved. I think my dad is too. My mum is sniping a bit at the slow speed of her recovery and needs to be reminded she's not just had her tonsils out, and to take it easy and not worry about when she's leaving. She was announcing earlier today that she'd be home by the end of the week; because when she turned up they told her they would usually expect someone to stay six days in recovery and she's been in two days already. I think she might take longer, what with the minor complication of the collapsed lung (which is still draining).
The food is good (dad just called to tell me), she's in her own room, the nurse is pleasant, and all she has to do is sleep and recuperate. Really, really hoping that she's felt the worst she's going to feel already, and that my dad has seen the last of the disturbing sights he will just want to forget, and that from now on mum will get better.
posted by Chaya at 6:03 pm
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