Wednesday, Thursday recap . . .

Such a dark, rainy morning on my way in to the U, left a 1/2 hour earlier than normal, knowing traffic would be slowed by the showers, which was a good call; made it to the U in an half hour, with little slowdowns. Such a fall feeling in the air, the coolness that quickly settles in as the sun goes down, darkness wrapping itself around us earlier, so sneaky I barely notice it happening, till one night, I look at the clock and it's only 9, yet feels so much later . . . we started this journey at the U in the winter, and are now entering the fourth season. . .

So, here's a recap of the progress from yesterday to today: Yesterday was a busy day. Got Bob out of bed again, via the lift. He sat in a recliner by the window for an hour or so, till the late afternoon sun warmed him to the point of being uncomfortable, so he was moved back to his bed, again, airborn. Did some PT, some OT, working on keeping upper body strong and limber, as he's going to need the extra strength when re-learning how to move about with a big chunk of his pelvis missing and no feeling in his lower leg. He was still on a very restricted "diet," if you could call it that, as they're trying to ward off the vomiting and go very slow with reintroducing food. Clear liquids, but very scant amounts, just sips, he's told. Was given a dose of Compazine with his a.m. meds. It's an anti-nausea medication that will hopefully help with the upset stomach and vomiting he had the days prior. It also about knocked him out, right from the start. All day, he was groggy and lethargic; could hardly open his eyes to keep a conversation going, much less get through his therapies without nodding off now and then.

While he was doing PT, a dietician came in and talked about nutrition (yeah, yeah, yeah, I think in my head as I peruse the list of "high calorie" foods offered by the hospital. All shit. Pure and utter shit. Junk food like pizzas, burritos, cookies, not one mention at all of fresh produce, good whole grains. Nothing.). I'm wondering how Bob can possibly get some nutrients—anything—with clear liquids, as we're going on a week now, without any food of any shape or form passing through his lips. Then the dietician mentions a high-calorie/protein fruit juice called Resource Breeze. Made by the company that makes Boost (a creamy, Ensure-like liquid supplement). It falls in the "clear liquid" category, as it's a transparent, colored juice. Of course, full of sugar, corn syrup, artificial flavors, colors . . . not a big fan of the process crap, as y'all know by now, so this isn't a product endorsement, but Bob hasn't eaten in six days, and docs are still strongly cautioning adding too much to his diet, just yet. Let's try it, I say, so she adds it to his daily menu and it'll be delivered to his bedside three times a day.

I kept an eye on Bob while I talked to the dietician and could see he was so wiped out during the PT session, I thought he might just check out for good. But the li'l soldier soldiered on, and made it through. That was followed with a session with OT, where he brushed his teeth, some other personal cares and went through a circuit of upper body stretches and exercises. As he's told and we already know, his upper body strength will be so important with his rehabilitation, learning to function with partial function of his right leg gone. It's cool to watch these sessions, because they feel so much more helpful now, than prior to surgery, when they were ordered during his other stays. So much of the stuff he was asked to do was simply impossible for him to do, until the tumor was removed. Now, there's a sense of purpose, a reason, a momentum in the movements, the exercises. . .

A couple of cute young things who introduced themselves as nurses' aides came in and told Bob they were there to help him with a sponge bath. Now if that's not enough to wake him up, I'll know for sure he'd better head back to the ICU. I left them to bathe away, and went down to the sunroom where Penny and Jim were. . .

A few more teams of docs came and went, just checking in to see how he was doing—colorectal, cardiology, endocrinology, all seem to be very impressed with his progress. Now, if only Bob were awake enough to hear these encouraging words. . .

Before I left for the night, I left a note with his nurse about a few concerns I'd had—Bob's blood pressure and heart rate have been running high, he's got a lot of swelling throughout his body, and suggesting leaving the Compazine out tomorrow, to see if that helps with the narcolepsy-like behavior.

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So, today (Thursday), I get to the U around 7:30 a.m. and Bob was sitting almost upright (the head of his bed raised to at least 60 degree angle), waiting for "breakfast," as he'd been approved to advance further with the clear liquids; the plan is to slowly reintroduce food to his system, starting with more clear liquids, moving on to full liquids (soups vs. broth, pulpy, opaque juices vs. clear, etc), then soft foods, and on.

"Breakfast" arrived shortly after I did. First course, Resource Breeze, second course, a raspberry sherbet-type thingy, a cup of red Jell-o. Bob ate the fruit ice, just a few bites of Jell-o, that was it. More sugar, more artificial crap . . . but it's something, for the short term. He hasn't had anything in his system since last Thursday—a whole week without food in any form. It is fortified with vitamins and stuff (though I always think that if something has to be fortified, it ain't so good fer ya . . .). But it's better than nothing, and for the short term, will get calories and nutrients in him, some form of sustenance and energy, if only till he gets word that his diet can be expanded to "real" food.

Kills me to see that processed shit going in him, though, just kills me. As soon as his ability to tolerate more solid foods increases, I'll be bringing in freshly juiced juices, real nourishment from home, to keep him on the path to strength and healing. . .

He was still very groggy, so sleepy to the point he never really woke up even today, but hadn't been given Compazine. He'd kind of drift in and out of conversations (amazingly aware of what we were talking about, however, even though he looked checked out), but wasn't staying alert for more than a minute or two at the most. The orthopedic surgery resident has stopped by to see Bob every day, post-surgery. I miss him every time, as he pops in around 6 a.m. I just can't make myself get to the U any earlier. . . But he did stop by later in the morning and I got to meet him for the first time. Holy shit. Our very own Dr. McDreamy. Okay, that's been used before. . . gotta find a new name for him. Alright, he'll be Dr. BoHunk. I swear I heard angels singing when he walked in the room. Funny how suddenly, I think I can make it in at 6 a.m., after all . . . j/k Bob, in case you're reading this, sweetie-face, honey-pie, love o' mine! (smiley face emoticon inserted right about here . . . :)

But it was nice to meet this doctor in person, finally, as we'd had several phone conversations prior. He showed me the actual x-ray of Bob's pelvis, the area of the sacrum where the tumor was removed, which appears as a black hole on the right side of his sacrum, a big gap, which is what it is. The exposed bone edges that were left will eventually collapse onto each other and scar over, is the plan. . . hence, the anticipated long recovery/rehab. Was told the final pathology results have not come back yet, as it was such a large section that was removed, all the tests that need to be taken from it hadn't yet been done. There is concern that there's still cancer cells left in the bones of the top margin, that wasn't able to be removed, because it was too close to the base of the spinal column . . .the final pathology report will tell us one way or another . . . so, until we hear anything, I just can't go there. . . just can't.

I mention Bob's grogginess to Dr. BoHunk, and he brought up a very possible explanation I'd never even thought of: that perhaps now, post-surgery, Bob's medications are too strong. Prior to surgery, his pain was excruciating and he was on insane amounts of his pain drugs. Now, with the tumor gone, he is having some pain, but it's more related to the surgery sites, not to the tumor site/nerve sites. The drugs were doing the job in helping to control the intense pain before surgery; because his body was in such a constant crisis mode, the drugs were barely controlling the pain, nothing more. Now, Bob may be feeling the other effects of the narcotics, because the pain isn't there . . . in other words, he's feeling the effects of the narcotics like Lindsay Lohan probably does. . . . the hopes is that by removing the tumor, all the pain that was associated with it is finally, finally gone. . .

As such, Doc BoHunk's idea is to slowly start tapering Bob off the Dilauded, see how that works, and go from there. It'll be a slow taper, watched very carefully. I will be calling Bob's palliative care doc in the a.m., to get her involved again, as much as I don't want to. But, she was the one who prescribed all the drugs, and she needs to be part of this. I don't want anything like what happened with the steroid taper to happen again.

More improvements: Bob was able to move from the bed to the recliner without the lift. He had major help from PT, and has to use just his good foot, balancing and pivoting on it, without bearing weight on the right side. That'll take some practice, but all will come, with time.

Hopefully, tomorrow won't be so foggy for him. His cardiologist is back in town and is planning on paying Bob a visit sometime, I think to see with his own eyes, that Bob survived the 13 hour ordeal, with the guidance of his master plan. Later! xxoo!