Saturday, August 23, 2008

In Sickness

In addition to the hand arthritis and the facial abcess, Ron developed agonizing stomach pains and nausea. I had to take him to the hospital. Good thing I had the bag packed. Next time, I'll bring more food and yarn.

The hospital's selection of low-carb foods was DISMAL once you got past breakfast. If I eat another cup of tuna salad I'll scream. I was already burned out on tuna salad because I'd made batch after batch for Ron this last week.

No, I don't think my tuna salad put him in the hospital!

He has gastritis; his stomach isn't emptying properly, and he may have a gimpy gallbladder. He spent one night in the hospital, in agonizing pain. I stayed with him.

Why? It's what I do. If Ron's in the hospital, I stay with him. Ever since his accident, he's always done better when I'm around. Doctors have actually come to me and told me they've written ordes that I'm to stay with him in his room. Respiratory therapists have demanded I stay because "He be good for you! Your wife here! You be good for your wife! Tell him to breathe in." I'd bellow at him, he'd comply, and the therapist would walk off with a grin. Apparently he was a very bad boy until I showed up.

One day a medication tech brought the wrong medicine for him. I was glad I stayed so I could bold upright in my chair - they always have a chair, and yell "HE'S NOT MR. JONES!" as Ron reached obligingly for the pills (he was pretty foggy for a while).

But it's simple, it always comes down to this: Ron does better when I'm around. Why should I stay at home, worried about transportation, worried about Ron, knowing he forgets his medical history? He'll wake up and kind of peep at me. I'll talk to him and he'll go back to sleep. If the IV pump alarm goes off, he's in pain, or he needs a urinal, I can go get it.

Besides, this time I only stayed one night. I've stayed weeks with him.

This time, I had my medication. Things went fine. I'm sure no one even guessed I'm bipolar.

That's the way it should be.

Next time, more yarn, more peanuts. I just wish it wasn't so surprising that I want to take care of him.

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