Guess who I spent the second to the last day of vacation with in the emergency room?
I swear, if it's not one thing with that man, it's another, and how in the world did I think I'd make it through a summer with him without a visit to the ER? He's been showing signs of decline recently, but because I don't see him as often as my husband and son, they didn't really notice the exaggerated weight loss and pallor. I noticed on Father's Day and again on the Fourth. This morning, the doctor called me with results of his labs drawn yesterday, and for some reason, he's losing blood. This afternoon, he had every orifice checked and one was positive for blood. Tomorrow he sees the GI doc, and Monday they'll do the colonoscopy. Now if he doesn't like the clear liquid diet, which he assured me loudly that he did not, how do you think he'll do with the prep? Oy! I refuse to be the one to explain it to him.
Still, though I joke about him a lot, and I wouldn't wish him on anyone else in the world, I still feel a duty to the father of my husband and could never bear the thought that he should face bad news or a health crisis alone. While I knit and kept him company, there was another man his age alone in the ER and most assuredly suffering a mental health breakdown. I felt so sorry for him and wondered why he was so alone in this world. I hope for my sake that I've paid it forward enough that when it's my turn, and even if it's my mind that's failed me, my family won't desert me.
And now, on to my second patient of the day...
After close to seven hours waiting for a bed (much shawl knitting accomplished) in the overcrowded hospital, I finally made it home to give the other beast in my life a bath. It was then I noticed that poor Leotus had a giant abscess under his collar. When I grabbed the scruff on the under side of his neck, the damned thing popped. Well, in the world of infectious disease, that's a good thing: better out, than in. This thing kept pouring pus and at the end, several hairs. I think they were all ingrown hairs hiding under the skin and irritated by his collar to the point he developed an infection.
So tonight, he's pus free, clean as a whistle, loaded with neosporin ointment and out for a blow dry (walk in the neighborhood). We'll call the vet Monday for antibiotics. Poor guy, I never even knew it was there. Do you think it's because I see him all of the time? That sore was enormous--at least the size of a walnut. It must have been a relief to him that I cleaned it out because he never squirmed, budged, yipped or cried. I imagine a sore that big had to hurt.
So once again, though I'm not working, technically I'm working. Do career nurses ever really get to look away when the sh*t, or pus, hits the fan? I don't think so.
News on the shawl? Only 32 rows to go and already I'm imagining the next project to knit. Lifelines first!