Thank you all for watching my back. For helping me not buckle under the burden of fear. It's been a long journey from that day in the ER through the surgery past a blood clot in the leg--and potentially much more dangerous clot in his lungs. Yes, the surgeon and the cardiologist were prepared to send him home earlier than last TH--but a PA named Nicole may have saved his life by noticing that his 02 saturation decreased when he walked. She ordered a CAT scan, and they found that second clot. I don't have warm and fuzzy feelings toward the cardio and the surgeon. Because had she not ordered the test, I was gonna ask her about it since one blood clot in leg plus increased problems breathing when he should have been improving seemed of to me and I wondered about a clot in the lung which is not uncommon. He stayed a few days longer, but tomorrow he'll have been home for a week.
I haven't posted because MiL was underfoot and it felt like she was taking over and trying to edge me out. That first night home she said something so cruel I actually called her a bitch. I was trying to explain that not only was I terrified of losing Ben, but I was also dealing with the fact that my first husband had died in April, thirty years ago.
And she said,"That's in the past.. Just let it go."
I couldn't believe she actually said: to just forget that I was ever married to my firsy husband, that I ever slept in his arms, that he wooed me like one of the Three Musketeers and swept me off my feet. I loved him. He died. But death doesn't end the love. If it does, I have to wonder if it really was love. Yes, the pain of the loss becomes more distant, less sharp, but there always remains a scar on your heart. Of course, MiL has been divorced 3 or 4 times, Older Sis 4, younger 2. I honestly wonder if they actually comprehend that sort of loss, because they all divorced in anger most of the time.
At that point I lost it completely. "That is the cruelest thing I've ever heard anyone say. You bitch."
Apparently she honestly believes the crap she spouts, and she replied "You've been pretty damned cruel to me too."
Translation: I called her and tried to tell her what I had learned about the hospital, and telling her the truth is cruelty. I had also begged her not to pull that "Let it go; it's in the past" crap.
I can handle being in the same room with her but I don't think I can ever get past that comment. Ben asked why if I needed a hug, I didn't just ask for one.
And my answer was that if I had to ask for one while I was sobbing my heart out--it would be worthless. He said she was likely terrified too. I pointed out that she had three children and their offspring looking after her. I had friends in MA and you guys here. I also told him I can be civil, but expecting more than that is pushing it.
Oh, he immediately got off the Zoloft. I think dumping that has helped a lot--he's very sensitive to meds (he now knows he's allergic to heparin). I had one final go-round with yet another unpleasant staff member. She was going over the list of meds and when they should be taken with Ben. Aware that he hallucinated on Percocet and wanting to make damned sure that didn't happen again (sadly, from my own experience, I am very aware that errors with meds are way too common, which is why I read every package insert on any new drug I'm prescribed), I interrupted her monotone monologue. The first time I asked nicely precisely what pain meds they were giving him. She told me she'd get around to answering my question if she had time.
I told her that I would like it if she answered NOW, because I was unlikely to remember the name, which she had refused to repeat (this is why I am not a favorite of the staff; after the second request, RAMBO HAS nothing on me ). I finally got her to tell me it was hydrocodone under the name of Narco.
Now I had some major dental problems a few years back, and one of the meds they gave me was the generic version of Vicodin, and I knew that hydrocodone is essentially Vicodin. So I asked, "Isn't that Vicodin".
Nurse: "No, we don't give Vicodin here."
She wasn't exactly telling the truth. They were essentially giving him the same med under a different brand name. In case I was wrong and so was the PDR, I asked our GP. He confirmed that I was indeed correct. Why, I wondered, did the staff have such a hard time answering questions--simple ones at that? WH
hy did they inflate the hospital's rep? Why would they refuse to respond to a straightforward question--especially when you can easily find the answer online win at most 5 minutes?
He replied, "It's control. Some medical staff don't like being questioned, period. Because 99% of people don't ask questions and just believe whatever they're told. They feel like you're taking power from them, by questioning them and the doctors--and they really, really dislike people who challenge what they perceive as their authority. "
MiL belong to the 99%, so they were delighted with her. "
I also asked him about a nurse recommending he be put on Zoloft without a psuch consult. She'd known Ben for a couple of day pre-op when he was feeling pretty good and flirting with the staff. After he got out of the ICU, he felt awful, was grumpy as a bear with three thorns in each paw, and hallucinating from the Percocet. I simple told her has PTSD and that if he screams, that's likelu. She took it on herself to have the doctor put him on Zoloft. Later when I talked to our GP and to his Dad, a retired pharmacist, they were both kinda shocked that on the rec of a nurse who'd only known him for 4 days, two of them pre-op when he wasn't in terrible pain, the doctor would order the med. He hadn't been on them long, so we just tossed away the prescription.
He had his first check for his blood thinner levels. I insisted on going--and I also had an appointment with our GP.I plan on attending to every appointment. And then we went on to my own appt. My GP is an African American guy who played football in college. I ended up telling him all the crap we'd been through. He told me that during something like open heart surgery, there are really two victims: the one who has the surgery and the spouse who who sits in sheer terror knowing that they are cutting open his/her beloved's chest, cracking his sternum, knowing that a stranger is holding that beating heart in his/her hands. And everyone's focus on is on the surgical patient, and no on seems to realize that the spouse may not have had surgery, but they too suffer from a broken heart--the kind of wound that doesn't show on the outside. I sat there and cried. (He also told me to let MiL do what she wants because some battles can't be won, to save my strength for the important ones. I told him I felt she was shoving me out, marginalizing me. He said that, having known us for 10 years, Ben wasn't about to allow that, and just to take the help and keep control of the important stuff--like loving him.
Then we went on to the medical part of the appointment. Yup, I had a nasty sinus infection, which explains the nausea, lack of desire to eat, and the screaming headaches. It wasn't just stress.
The important thing is he's home. And he's getting better. And I owe the PA a box of candy because she, more than the doctors other than my GP, spotted the blood clot which, left untreated, would likely have killed him. I also thanked my GP for saving Ben's life. He said he didn't anything. I pointed out that his doing the EKG is what got Ben seen so quickly.
MiL and I will not ever be close again. I don't hate her, but I no longer trust her. I can be pleasant and civil, but that's it. I am not a person who lives on bland conversation. I don't do chitchat. I suck at cocktail parties.
And I will fess up. On Saturday, I actually sat in front of her and tore into little pieces a Bible covered in pink in front of her. I'd meant to do it anyway, because I am not fond of the KJV version anyway. I was just so angry at the woman and I needed to destroy something.But she'd been harping on her version of deity for weeks, and if I mentioned mine, she got her knickers in a knot, and I was just tired of having to be nice about her version of fundamentalist Christianity while she was allowed to say whatever damned BS she wanted about ours. I just lost it--and I am angry at myself for giving in to the impulse. What I should have done is waited till Ben was was better and it is warmer, and then used it to start a grill. But at that moment insults from the cardio staff. I'd had 10 years of MiL's snide comments that she doesn't even realize are insulting and disrespectful, and she had ordered us not to practice our devil worship while under her roof--at any place or any time. So yes, it was a form of payback is a bitch.
I don't really have anything against the Bible, and rather love certain bits: The Book of Ruth, the gospels, the Song of Songs. I do have a certain fondness for Lilith from Jewish folklore, and tend to look at Jezabel very differently from most Christians. But deliberately tearing that book into tiny pieces was wrong. But I am still not gonna apologize for it to her--not until she starts showing some respect for our faith. When we've had her and Baby Sis over for Xmas and Thanksgiving (they celebrate those on the day Baby Sis has her kid home), I've never inflicted our religion them: no circle cast, no calling down the Holly King, no blessing of the food---because that would bewrong. Yet when we still attended holiday gatherings, there was always a long-winded grace ending "in Jesus' name." I think something just snapped. I was wrong, I know. But I am kinda tired of being the one who makes the first move. These days I'm doing well to be civil.
But he's HOME. He's eating real food--which I cooked--and he's currently napping with a bevy of cats. He'll thank you himself, but he's still pretty easily tired and sitting at the computer is painful. He still feels the cold at times. They're hoping to have him off blood thinners in 6-8 months, and off injected insulin and onto the oral in about the same time frame.But he told me to thank you all for prayers, thought, and just being there for me.