Rehab.

July 23, 2017

So I've decided to go the SNL route and do a "weekend update" to cover the last couple of days. Sorry, no Rosanne Rosannadanna appearances but I will try and channel some inner Gilda Radner. And I will probably go on too long, just like too many SNL skits that don't know how to end.

We finally escaped ICU late last Thursday and have landed at a top secret undisclosed rehab facility not too far from home- I'd tell you where but then Abby Trotter Grant said she would have me killed. I always figured since I'd never be able to retire that I would probably just die in front of my computer designing my obituary. So I will keep my mouth shut.

Thursday night was a bit of a hard landing- Abby was put in a double, and her roomie was a very nice older woman but had a bit too much Mrs Kravitz in her (Bewitched ref. for all you non-watchers of that quality show). Also, her flip phone was set to Spinal Tap 11, and I can still feel her conversations reverberating throughout my body- I hope it's not permanent. But very little room to move about, and with us, the nurses and Ben Grant all in the room, it was like the hospital version of a clown car. Abby eventually got settled, got some meds, and crashed. Ben and I headed out, and as a final end to the evening, set off a very loud alarm as we opened the front door- no sign or warning about it- no one at the front desk, so wtf? Well, time to walk, very very quickly, to the car.

Friday began with lots of promise- got Abby moved out of the double she was in, and at 9:30, they actually had a therapy dog visit, who with his handler went room to room- an every Friday occurrence. What a sweetheart and he really buoyed Abby's spirit, and mine. He was especially interested me, actually was mostly interested in my shorts and sneakers and the smell of our 3 pups and 2 cats.

At 11:30 we were picked up by ambulance to go to MGH Boston for her PET scan. Nice EMT we rode with in the back who had a supernatural-like ability to read Abby's lips and understand her. I'm not sure if any of you have ever had the displeasure of riding in the back of an ambulance, but I'd say it's akin to being below in a 25' sailboat when it's blowing 25 knots. Fortunately I'm not prone to sea sickness but I had a moment there where I was looking for the horizon through the sea of cars behind us. We finally arrived at MGH after an 1 1/2 hours- would've been a 25 minute ride had the driver actually known where he was going. By this point Abby had been without her humidifier for her trachea and had had no nourishment since midnight the night before- standard for any of these tests. When the technician met us, we asked for the humidifier and also wondering is she might be able to get some pain/relaxation meds and maybe oxygen since she'd been bounced around and wasn't feeling her best. So at MGH we were told, nope, sorry, no nurse available. No respiratory person available- if we needed those services we should have brought our own nurse. Now the technician was quite nice- so not slamming her, but really? We're at one of the best hospitals in the country, maybe the world, and they didn't think that maybe this patient who's coming in might need some assistance. And the whole process was going to take a couple of hours- this was a drive through window were talking about. So no PET scan- just another chauffeured ambulance ride back to rehab. Since Abby was in good hands in the back with the funny and savant lip reader EMT, I figured I'd ride in front and (hopefully) give directions to our GPS loving driver. I haven't mentioned that the driver had previously not said a word to us and looked seriously in need of an enema. It might a long ride of a different kind. So I asked him about his job, small talk and the like, and he became chatty. Found out that he hadn't eaten since breakfast so I offered up a granola bar (my backpack now serves as my command central; peanut sandwich, nuts, granola bars- whatever I might be able to snack on if/when my stomach can handle it, notebook, laptop, water bottle, etc). Suddenly we were pals- a man has to eat as they say. The conversation somehow turned to Dade County, Florida, where he had friends and I guess there is quite the interesting strip joint that's basically in a neighborhood in some ramshackle garage. And not only is this place "an awesome strip club" but for a hundred bucks you can go to the second floor and watch porno be shot. There's more, but since this is a family blog I will leave that to your collective imaginations.

Saturday and today (Sunday), have been up and down. Good periods and some down, but overall small positive steps forward. Staff at rehab are extremely nice and helpful, and Abby's room is pretty big, a nice view, very comfortable for our family. Not sure how long we will be in rehab- minimum a week but my gut says 2-3. Case manager said she wants to make sure that Abby is active, able to move about by herself, and as pain free as possible before we leave. And that I/we are very comfortable using and cleaning the trachea and gastric feeding tubes, suctioning the trachea tube when it gets clogged, and be as independant as possible.

Abby's brother Matt Iron (Trotter) spent a good part of the day with us Saturday, allowing me to do a few errands, get a haircut and feel quasi-normal for awhile. He's a nurse, so very comforting for us, and I know he will be a huge asset too when we get home and will make the transition easier having him nearby- so grateful for that, and he also tells great tales from the wide wonderful world of nursing.

Some final thoughts here to wrap up the weekend: hospital TV had its limitations, so we enjoyed the bulldog surfing competition (yes, it's a thing), parts of "Step Up 3" and I know you're wondering how could we have watched that without having seen the previous two, and lastly, some very special Brady Bunch episodes that ratcheted up the must see TV experience to staggering heights.

We remain strong, and yes, tired, happy, a bit sad, emotional, scared, empowered, unknowing, but yet knowing- knowing that we are in this together, with our family and our friends. And love may not conquer all, but it's certainly helped us these last 28 years. Nite everyone.