Probably the worst Veterans Day weekend my Veteran will ever have.
Disclaimer*
This will likely be a more negative/depressing blog. If you're not interested in reading that kind of material, stop now.
Where should we begin!?
We came home Thursday afternoon. He drove the whole way, and said it felt like a work out, but did a great job. He was complaining of pain in his finger only a little. That night, the pain increases to the point of nausea, and he ended up taking an Oxycontin which he hasn't taken in a really long time. He felt defeated because he had to take it, but I wasn't going to have him in that much pain all weekend.
The next morning he woke up still nauseous, and in even more pain in his finger. We showered, and for the first time, got this finger wet. The pins came out on Tuesday, and since they were out, he was allowed to get that wound wet, and they encouraged it. We drizzled soapy water over it from the wash cloth, but the whole time, he was almost in tears in pain. From the standing on one leg for the duration of the shower, to the finger throbbing, he was so done. We quickly finished in the shower, and started to do some wound care. The pin site was oozing pretty bad, but this wasn't uncommon for him. It did that when the pins were in. The pain was new. Also new, the redness, swelling, and heat coming from that finger. We dressed it, and decided to take his morning medications and wait an hour to see how it felt. And when he showers in the morning, his leg swells, and he can't fit in to his prosthetic. So it was a morning of defeats. He had to scoot down the stairs on his butt, and I could see the "I'm so done." all over his face.
We relaxed on the couch, put his leg up, took his medicine, tried to eat. After about 2 hours, he said he felt much better, and the only pain was the stinging. I told him to watch so close for any redness going up his hand or arm, and that if that happens, he better get his ass back home. He went up to visit his friend from high school, and spent most of the day and night up there. He said his finger still hurt pretty bad, but he was trying not to be a "b*tch" about it. When he got home, it was still red, but nothing moving. Very swollen too.
Saturday morning he woke up, and I could tell he wasn't in as much pain. He sounded surprised when I asked and he said "Actually, it's not that bad!" And then we looked at it and saw that it had started pussing, out the back end of the dressing. Gross. So, we called our nurse neighbor friend for a second opinion, and started the dressing change process. Now the wound was bigger. The tissue directly over the break looked bruised, and as he put pressure on the skin around the wound, it just oozed. We've been trying to heal this skin graft for the past 2 months. It was almost closed. Now it's bigger. Not a good sign. He said he could feel the bone shifting when he held his hand sideways, because of the break. Still very swollen and red, although not as hot. And no streaking. We call Joe from OT, even though we know he won't be able to tell us what to do, we just wanted to know if wound care was on call on the weekends. They're not. And the consensus is to go to the ER.
We decide it'd be best for him to go all the way back up to Bethesda since they have all his records and access to all his doctors there. I felt terrible. His dad agreed to take him, thank goodness. But, I wish I could've been there.
We really thought they'd just put him on antibiotics and send him home with a follow up on Monday. That didn't happen.
Meanwhile, I'm sitting at my house waiting for my Dad to bring my dog back home...there was a miscommunication, or lack thereof, and he didn't know I wanted to leave with her at 11 to go visit a friend and get her groomed. He never takes his cell phone. Anywhere. And I know as soon as I leave to go look for them, he'll come home, so I just wait. He gets home with minutes to spare of the time I needed to leave to get her to her appointment on time. I get half way down my stupid windy road that I hate driving on anyway, and realize I forgot the rabies certificate. Have to turn around and get it. Now we're going to be way late. Finally get there, make another wrong turn, which makes us even later. It is not our day, I decide. Take her to the groomer where they say it can be anywhere from 3-5 hours. Good Lord I don't know what they do to those dogs for that long. I went to hang out with my friend while she was there. Finally at the 4 hour mark, I call to see how much longer it will be. I get "Oh, you're Sadie's mom? Hold on a minute." Never a good sign. I'm thinking, great, they gave my dog to the wrong person or something like that. Another woman comes on the phone "Well, Sadie is all finished, but she cut her foot. We had the vet take a look at it and she said she could throw a stitch in there if you wanted, but it doesn't seem to be bothering her at all." So this is how parents feel when the daycare calls and says their child has hurt themselves. No, it's no charge. Sure, we'll do it and she'll be ready in about 15 minutes they tell me. We get there in the 15 minutes she told us it would be - "Oh, well we got really busy and the doctor is going to see her right after she finishes up with the other patient." Ok. 30 minutes go by, still no Sadie. Now I'm thinking, if they come out and tell me she had an allergic reaction and they'll have to keep her overnight, or she kicked them while they were doing the procedure and they cut her more, I'm going to flip my lid. An hour later, some chic says "Well we got really slammed with appointments and the doctor is finishing up a urinalysis and then she'll see Sadie. We can't really move anyone to the front of the line for treatment." I'm thinking - uh yes you can, you were the ones who cut her foot, you can see her first. But of course I just smile and nod instead. Finally the doctor comes out, says 'maybe I'll glue it instead' Ok fine just do it and let's go, and 4 seconds later she was done. We waited an hour and a half for 4 seconds of gluing.
So my friends dog, Riley and Sadie finally get to meet and play for a while, although by this time I think Sadie is totally overstimulated and exhausted.
Jason calls and says "Bad news." Great.
The short story to all this is:
His finger is, in fact, infected.
(He sent me a picture around 3pm of a red streak starting up his arm - he was the first to notice it, and informed the Doctor about it I assume - by 9pm, he still hadn't received IV antibiotics)
They were now worried about bone infection.
They tried to give him a temporary nerve block so they could open the wound more, the wound we've tried so hard to heal, and see how much was infected. He said it didn't really work.
They gave him IV Dilaudid and he was high for a couple hours he said, but that wore off too.
He left his book bag in his dads truck at home with all his medications and socks and shrinkers for his leg. I was so mad at him for that, I'm not even going to lie. What was he thinking?!
He got x-rays, and apparently his Ortho Doc was consulted.
He got an MRI but doesn't know the results of that yet, although with this streak of luck, I can guess what they're going to be.
He was admitted back to the fourth floor where he spent his first month and a half here.
Surgery on Monday.
Basically, we're looking at losing a finger. And not just the tip, the entire finger. Where they take the finger and all the ligaments in the hand and fuse the hand smaller so there's no space for the remaining fingers to drift. Sweet. Now he'll have a peg leg and a pterodactyl hand. As if people don't stare enough. As if he doesn't already feel like a circus act, let's tack this on.
I guess the doctor told him that before he goes in to surgery, he will have him sign a consent that basically says if they need to take the finger, they will be allowed to. I'm having a hard time with this. I just think it's the easy way out for the doctor. "Eh, it's not looking so hot. Eff it, let's just cut the thing off - hey student would you like to do this one?" I can so picture that. It's how the medical world works unfortunately. I'm pretty sure I'm going to be a raging bitch when I show up there tonight, and I don't even care. But I don't think I'm going to let him add that to the consent.
What I'm so mad about, is that this was never considered until now. When I asked the doctors about an MRI wayyyyy back when he was still inpatient, they all just said "Oh, I'll have to look. I'm sure he had one somewhere, it's just not showing up in our system."
He never got an MRI in Bethesda. Until yesterday.
I'm no genius, but if someone is coming in with multi trauma - wouldn't they want a generalized, overall picture of what is going on inside, to be sure they're not missing anything? If he had had the MRI done in the beginning, would they have even noticed his middle finger bone being infected? If he'd had it done, they would've had something to compare this one to at least. And not only the bone infection, he should've had one done simply because he stepped on a freaking land mine. If that's not close enough to an explosion to warrant an MRI, then I don't know what is. I might have to consult my legal friends on this one. If he has to lose his finger for something that could've been prevented? Oh yeah.
Bone infection does not happen over the course of 4 days. They told him that it's probably been infected this entire time, and when the pins came out, it finally moved out of the bone and in to the skin where it started showing itself.
Again, I find myself wondering "How much more can I take?" I was ok with the leg, I had to be. I didn't get a choice in that one. Now, with this finger business, we have a choice as to how his treatment goes, and I obviously want them to do everything they can to save that finger, minus letting the infection spread so he ends up loosing his hand. The missing leg is almost less weird than a three finger hand to me right now. But, if it happens, I'm sure I will get used to it, just like we've gotten used to everything else.
I hate that he has to wake up and look at that leg every morning, because I know he's thinking how much it sucks. And now we're going to lose more movement in this hand since they have it immobilized in a huge stupid cast again. "Hey, let's see how much progress you can make, and then lets make you start all over again because you have to have another part of your body removed!" Sounds like a fun game someone's playing with our life.
And now, here's the selfish rant.
This weekend was supposed to be about me. He acknowledged that, which made me feel a little better, but it doesn't make the situation any better. We were supposed to have some professional pictures taken this morning which obviously didn't happen. My baby shower is this afternoon. I know, out of general concern, people will want to know how Jason is, and ask about him. Do I tell them the entire story that will take forever or do I just tell them he's fine? Chances are, some of my guests will have read this before coming, so maybe the word will get out, and I won't have to explain anything a million times. But the only part I can think about is the fact that we have 4 big boxes of stuff we mailed home from Colorado to go back up to Bethesda, plus everything from the baby shower. And now I get to drive it up and unload it all by myself.
That's not fair, you're probably saying. Yes, I know. He didn't do this on purpose. He didn't do any of this on purpose. I understand that. But these are the thoughts going through my head in my current state. So just deal with it.
Here we were hoping he'd be mostly healed, and almost ready to go back to Colorado as soon as the baby was born. Now I'm wondering if he'll still be recovering from another surgery and be able to help me at all. People also do this all the time. Have babies all by themselves. I should know, I worked in a military hospital and saw women come in every single day and deliver their babies while their husbands were deployed. At least he'll be here when I deliver. Why can't I be grateful for that?!
When will we catch a break? Win the lottery? Have something really good happen to us? This baby will be a blessing, I'm not discounting him. I know there are many people who cannot have children, and we are blessed in this sense. But, sitting here, 8 months pregnant, thinking about my husbands finger getting lobbed off, and thinking about the string of events we've gone through these past 3 months, only makes me wonder what could go wrong with the birth of our baby boy. I pray to God, nothing, but I just can't make myself believe that after all this.
Today is three months since he was injured. Didn't think this is where we'd be, that's for sure.
It's always been a flaw of mine that people can tell I'm pissed or genuinely don't want to be somewhere. I've never been able to fake emotions. It's going to be hard to put on a happy face today at this baby shower that everyone has made time for out of their busy schedules to come to. And all I will be able to think about is how my husband might loose another body part while I'm sitting there opening presents for a baby who still has no name because, quite honestly, it's the last thing on my list of priorities right now.
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