February 2011

So they’re prepping me for the OR this morning but the decision to go in hasn’t been made. I’ll know sometime just before I’m wheeled away. The chief radiologist and the hospital’s liver specialist, the wonderful Dr Hernandez, will meet about my case first thing this morning.

What happened to me? Well after brainstorming with doctors and senior residents we finally have a theory. This is not as rare a scenario as one might think. And one thing is clear – I’m very lucky to be alive.

A couple of days before christmas I had an old, cracked filling replaced. It went right down to the nerve and was pretty unpleasant. For a couple of days afterward it hurt too much to bite down on and was on the verge of that spongy, infected feeling when it just suddenly stopped getting worse and stopped hurting. Problem solved, I thought.

What actually happened was the budding infection traveled into my blood stream where a battle royal began. Despite having an excellent immune system my white cells were no match and my liver  – the last filter on the blood trail – became severely infected. The flu-like symptoms two weeks ago that were so severe were my liver shutting down. 

Now my liver is full of abcesses and what they want to do today is go in and drain the biggest ones to give the antibiotics a jump start. The smaller ones are too close to blood vessels and other organs or they would do them all.

You may be aware that the liver is a unique organ in that it can regenerate itself and you can live with a fraction of one that’s healthy and doing the job. Dr. Hernandez says mine will never look the same because of what has happened to it but that it should serve me well. Let’s face it, my liver was never that pretty to begin with. If it has to give up its dream of becoming a supermodel that’s a small price to pay for my return to good health.

One more note on dentisty. Apparently there are thousands of people who go on antibiotics prior to getting dental work done because of the risks. It never would have occured to me. I always took its safety for granted as do millions of others. How fragile we are, indeed.

I’m in limbo but it’s quite alright.

Twice now I’ve been told I might go home or they might go in. Now Monday morning is the next d-day for either shipping me out or putting me on the OR. It’s either/or because of the closeness of my liver abscesses to other organs. They have to weigh the risk of removing the liver problems against the potential for new infection. 

So how do I prepare to go home or go under? I don’t! I hang in, watching bad tv, napping and getting poked with needles. They’ll let me know on Monday. Until then I’ve got nothing better to do except concentrate on getting better. I’ve got the easy job. I must admit that I would like to go home before the Spanx hour on the Shopping Channel starts to look like worthwhile television. It’s getting dangerously close!

There had been talk of sending me home
to continue my care but it’s not yet meant
to be. My white count ( the body’s army)
is still too high.

I have bursts of energy that mislead me into
feeling recovered that are consistently
followed fifteen minutes later by the
overwhelming need to nap for an hour
or more. Such is the nature of recovery
I suppose.

I’ll go home when they say so. I’ll continue
to try to get some of the jello rations before
they’re all gone and I will watch more bad
daytime tv. I won’t complain because I know
how very fortunate I am.

They don’t make enough jello for the cafeteria and it should be available to patients only.  There is no reason for a visitor or doctor to eat from the limited daily supply of Jello. If I were CEO of London Health Sciences Centre this would be a strictly enforced rule.

Dr. Jhou and Dr. Hernandez rock.

The drugs I took before my MRI have me convinced that I was curled up in a ball during the test even though I have seen the machine and know this isn’t possible.

I am most looking forward to having my hair properly washed. Because of my PICC line I can’t get my right forearm wet. Any volunteers?

A good friend of ours who is an esteemed professor of philosophy here at western was on the committee that oversaw and approved this iv-at-home
(PICC line) Technology. We never knew.

The cooks here do surprisingly well with some dishes. I think we should concentrate on those meals rather than the grey ones that smell like dog food.

If you work in a hospital and you are kind to a patient for no reason at all it means more than you know.

Friday is either the day I prepare to go home or the day I go through a surgical  procedure.  It all depends on the results of a ct scan. I can’t believe how long I’ve been in here – 11 days.

Today my Dad undergoes a knee replacement surgery.  He had this surgery done about a decade ago and came through with flying colours. I’m holding my own. It’s my Daddy I’m thinking about today.

I was moved up to a real semi -private patient room on the 8th floor. My roommate whose name I never did get was being let out. She was doing well post op. Keep in mind that we have a situation where people wait 30 hours in the ER for a bed as you read this little exchange.

Him: okay hon we’re free to go. I’ll get your stuff together.

Her: I don’t want to.

Him: you feel alright don’t you?

Her: (whiny) yeah.

Him: well then let’s go pick up something to eat and get you home!

Her: but it’s almost suppertime. We paid for it.

Him: you want to stay for supper? What will I eat?

Her: we can share it.

They sat in silence until dinner arrived and I heard him say, these carrots taste a little off. 

No discussion needed.