I didn't get a chance to print Part V of the story here, so if you're interested click the link and remember... I have to write in third person for Examiner since we're writing for Google, not so much for actual readership.
Presented for your approval: Famous Squamous Part VI:
After the jump...
(This is the sixth in a series of special reports by the Baltimore Liberal Examiner detailing one family's discovery, treatment, and recovery from oral cancer and what you can do as a potential cancer patient to stay aware.)
POST OP DAY TWO
A speech therapist at University of Maryland Medical Center tests Gail's swallowing reflexes as she administers the "ice chip" test.
It was a day of massive leaps forward for Gail, Bill said.
"First, she passed the 'ice chip' test," he said with pride. "Then she got pissed at the hospital staff. Best sign yet that Gail is coming back!"
Both Bill and Gail had restless nights in their respective beds six blocks apart, Bill in his hotel room and Gail in her room at the University of Maryland Medical Center in Baltimore. Bill said he just had trouble getting and staying asleep. Gail was interrupted, she said, "every five minutes by someone coming in or making noise out in the hallway and how in the hell are you supposed to sleep with these things on your legs?"
"These things" were pneumatic anti-embolism leggings. They massage the lower legs and prevent the formation of blood clots, which could be deadly. They are used for bed bound patients, which is something Gail said she no longer considers herself.
After a visit from the head ENT guy, Bill and Gail could see a light at the end of the hospitalization tunnel. "The doctor said the only thing keeping Gail in the hospital right now is the drain from her neck wound. Once that stops draining, they can remove it and Gail can go home."
He also said, according to Bill, that he would prefer Gail be able to swallow on her own before going home, although he will send her home with the nasogastric tube in place if need be. It might not be necessary.
Gail was visited by a cheerful speech therapist named Jackie who tested her swallowing mechanisms. When you swallow, a series of integrated muscle and hyoid bone movements are involved. Everything moved as expected -- briskly.
Jackie gave Gail an "ice chip" test. She spoon fed an ice chip to Gail, instructed her to let it melt, then swallow the water. They did this several times and Gail swallowed the water successfully each time. Tomorrow, the "pudding test."
Even with this, and the news that she would likely go home on Friday or Saturday, by the afternoon, Gail was -- according to Bill -- "nobody's sweetheart."
"The room was too warm. She felt too restricted. She wanted to get up and move without having to call a nurse. She wanted to go to the bathroom without calling a nurse."
Bill took stock of the situation. Gail's oxygen cannula was removed on Wednesday. So he didn't see the need for the pulseox monitor which measures the amount of oxygen in the blood. So Bill unplugged the pulseox monitor.
Gail's vital signs were stable and had been since surgery, so the heart, blood/pressure and respiration monitor seemed unnecessary. Bill unplugged them.
Gail would not need the pneumatic leggings to prevent blood clots if she were up walking around. Bill removed the leggings. Then he called for the nurse to explain what he had done and why he did it.
"She's antsy. She's irritated as hell. She feels trapped. She feels tied down. She wants to get up and move around. The doctors want her to get up and move around. And she can't do it tied to these monitors which she clearly does not need," he told the nurse.
Bill turned down the thermostat in the room. Then he and Gail walked to the sun room -- Gail toting the IV pole holding her nasogastric feeding bag and pump -- and sat for an hour or so watching the world move outside.
Watching Bill and Gail reminds one of the fact that patients are, in fact, consumers of health care. The doctors, nurses, technicians and other health care workers are individuals hired by the patient to provide the health care they need. When you come right down to it, selecting a doctor is no different than hiring a gardner, a painter, a roofer, or anyone else you trust to provide a service you pay for.
Too often, it seems the other way around. With choices in health insurance limited due to the current employer-based health insurance model, far too often patients are stuck with what they get and not with what they need.
Bill and Gail are lucky. Their insurance covers the professionals at the University of Maryland Medical Center. Not everyone is so fortunate. One could make the argument that America will never be as great as she should be until every citizen has the same access to the same kind of health care, regardless of cost, regardless of ability to pay, regardless of station in life.
Right now, Bill and Gail are just happy to sit -- Bill slightly behind Gail, rubbing her neck and shoulders -- in the sun room on the 5th floor of the hospital.
They both know this journey is far from its end. But as the day ended, they felt like they made some decent progress on the way.
Follow the saga of Gail and Bill's walk through the valley of Stage III tonsil cancer in his blog, "Famous Squamous." Keep tabs on the BLE by hitting the "subscribe" link under his byline or by visiting his personal website where you can read his thoughts uncensored and unleashed.