A grey day.

The sun hasn’t shone for more than a few minutes in so long. I’m so sick of it.
The days just all blend into each other into one grey mushy blah. Half the time I have no idea what day it actually is.

Yesterday (or today? I literally do not know) the doctors started Neil back on the IV antibiotics. Okay yeah, that was yesterday. They sent him for another ct scan. It showed that the old abcesses were still there, but not as big, but there are more abcesses than there used to be. Not super great. So he’s on IV antibiotics every 6 hours.

He wasn’t feeling too good this morning. More pain and more discomfort, but one of the nurses gave him fentanyl a couple times, and that sure cheered him up. I wished I could have some too. I still remember the good times I had with that stuff when I was in labor with Oliver.

The doctor today consulted the infectious diseases doctor. That guy came and said Neil will need to be on IV antibiotics for several WEEKS. Crap. But the good news is that because Neil has a PICC line he can come home and then maybe be on the home IV program, if they come out here, or otherwise go into somewhere in the city closer to us for a daily IV infusion. Or maybe I can just do it? Why not. Right now they’re just going to keep playing it by ear and see how each day goes. Probably a few more days in the hospital anyway.

I’m bummed about it, and I’m mad at Neil’s body for not cooperating. Honestly I had a crappy day. I’m just not feeling it anymore. I don’t want to drive that long drive to the hospital anymore, or sit in that hard chair, or listen to that chatty roommate, or leave my kids with someone besides me, or anything. I just want us all home, together. I’m getting cranky about it.

But the sun finally came out this evening, and it finally warmed up enough for the kids and I to run around and play and cheer Seth on at his soccer game. The sunshine and the fresh air is seriously good for the soul and I feel a little bit better. Neil is hanging in there like a trooper, patiently waiting for his body to heal up so that when he comes home he can STAY home.


I seriously hope that day is soon but I guess we’ll just wait and see. I find that part so hard! Where I work there’s a typical pattern, a normal “length of stay”, and sure, sometimes there are delays, but they’re usually things we see regularly and then we know how much longer patients might have to stick around for. On the surgery ward it’s all just wait and see, play it by ear, two steps forward one step back, and who the heck knows when anything will happen! So maddening for me!
But I know they know what they’re doing there; they’ve taken such exceptional care of Neil, and I know they’re all rooting for him to get home as soon as possible. So I’ll try to be patient too, even though that’s definitely not my strong suit.

For now I’m looking forward to what claims to be a beautiful forecast. I’m thankful for all of you out there who are praying for Neil and for the rest of us too. I’m sure that it’s because of you all that I haven’t lost my marbles just yet. (Ok besides that one day). AND I’m thankful that tomorrow’s a new day. And I’m thankful that one day this will all be a distant memory.


2 thoughts on “A grey day.

  1. Carla says:

    You’ve done such a good job of keeping your chin up & looking on the bright side. It’s ok to have days like this. You are human. Do what you need to do to get through!

  2. Terrie Todd says:

    You’ve been on my heart so much even though we don’t know each other very well. I think it’s partly because what you’re going through brings back memories for me—a husband in the hospital, a missing arm, children at home who needed me, and a most uncertain future. Our situation was different and I was a little older than you are (36); our children a little older and more independent (14, 12, and 8). But I can relate to your worries, your loneliness, your overwhelming responsibilities, your better days, and your indescribable fatigue.
    I was listening to Third Day’s song “Mountain of God” today and thought of you – give it a listen if you get a chance. You are not alone, no matter what. And eventually, life does come around to some kind of normal. It has to. In the meantime, I really hope you can keep blogging. You write so well, and it’s helps the rest of us to remember to keep praying for you guys. Give yourself permission to get mad and to cry and have crappy days. Hang in there.

I love your comments! Leave one!

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s