A note on visitors . . .

I've had several people ask me lately if Bob can have visitors at Bethesda, and to that I say, "Come one, come all!" No, seriously. We've finally figured out the routine around this joint and have a pretty set schedule from day to day. I know it would do a world of good for Bob's spirits, to see some mugs (other than mine), better than what any drug could accomplish. Overall, he's in far better shape than he's been in a long time and is much better company that he was even just a few weeks ago. He might even stay awake for most of the visit!

Bob's been so disconnected, literally checked-out, from the world for so long, and as such—I've said it before—he truly has no idea whatsoever just how many people have been keeping him in their thoughts and prayers, holding him dear to their hearts, rooting and cheering for him from afar. Up until recently, having visitors has been so hard, with all the crises, or the recoveries from crises, or because he's been so very wiped out from meds or his condition in general, all has made it really hard to see anyone other than immediate family. And I get it, too, peeps, from your point of view: it's been hard for you, too, as friends and family, to be watching this Krazy Karnival ride play out over the course of the past year, and the apprehension, fear, whatever it might be that many must feel about visiting Bob. I get it, I truly do . . . and I also say, "Get over it!" (said with all the love in the world . . .)

Please don't feel bad if you think you "haven't been better keeping in contact," or think you have to have the "right words," or worry about saying the "wrong thing" (starting to feel like Chris Farley's motivational speaker character, throwin' emphatic finger-quote gestures all over the place . . . ) because none of that matters. (Weeeeeeellllll, except for a few of "those" phrases you all know by know that I despise with a passion . . . that, everything happens for a reason, or God doesn't give you any more than you can handle, for example. Steer clear of those, peeps, and you won't get bitch-slapped into next week . . . ;)

Other than me, his parents and a handful of visitors, Bob's social circle has diminished considerably, encompassing mostly medical professionals. Sounds impressive, but I'm here to tell you, most are not people with whom I'd care to sit around, have a beer and shoot the breeze. Nothing personal, but really, our family and friends are waaaaay more fun than anyone in a white coat. And we miss you! All of you!

So after all that rambling, the lowdown on visiting is this: Monday through Friday, they keep Bob pretty busy, crackin' the whip from about 7 a.m. till 3 or so. During the weekdays, daytime hours are really hard to fit visitors in, between therapies, wound vac care/MIST, doc visits and a much-needed nap. But, after 4 p.m., things calm down and visits are totally welcomed—especially if you're bringing dinner (and beer. Oh, kidding. Kind of.)! No, really. I still can't figure out the Big Hospital Conundrum: in a place that's supposed to be healing patients, they're simultaneously trying to kill 'em off with shitty food. Anything is better than the Puke on a Plate served here, so feel free to come bearing gifts of food! (How's that for shameless begging?)

Saturdays are busy in the morning: usually a session of PT then pretty much free for the rest of the day. Sundays are a total free-for-all. No therapies, no wound vac/MIST (unless an emergency comes up, like it did yesterday—lots of bleeding from the wound suddenly, right before we were heading down for PT. Being on Plavix and aspirin, Bob is easily prone to bleeding, and for some reason, his wound started bleeding like a stuck pig and wouldn't stop. The bleeding site was just a tiny spot, most likely new tissue that had been irritated by the dressing or vac, but because of the anticoagulants, any little nick or cut can bleed like crazy. Ended up interfering with the morning session of PT, to remove the wound vac, clean the mess, stop the bleeding and put a new dressing on. For now, the vac is discontinued, to let the irritation settle down, and will be started up again on Monday.

To sum it all up in a neat, tidy little chart, visiting hours are as follows:

Monday - Friday: after 4 pm

Saturday: after noon

Sunday: all day

Speaking of visitors, I just have to give a shout-out to one of our frequent visitors, a long-time friend of Bob's, dear Paulie, even though I know he's going to be embarrassed as hell about it. Bob and Paul were roommates (along with Brian, Nancy's husband) many years ago. Paul lived in Mpls. until just recently, when he moved to out-state New York for a new job. He comes back to the cities every few weeks, and makes it a point to come visit Bob every time he's in town. Doesn't matter that Bob often sleeps through the entire visit (there's still moi to visit with—I'm witty! I'm fun! I'm funny! I'm . . . okay, I'll shut up . . .), he still shows up. When Bob had his first heart attack nearly four years ago, Paulie again came to visit Bob nearly every day, even if it was just to pop in, give us all a hug and leave. All of our visitors have been such a treat, and are such a blessing, so much appreciated and welcomed, but I just had to single Paulie out because even though he's a big, burly dude who likes to get into bar fights (just for the record, he doesn't instigate them. He just finishes them), he's a softie at heart, and such a good friend . . . we love you, P-man!

Anyhow, that's the skinny on the visits. We'd love to see you, even if you only have a few minutes to spare. It'd be nice to reintroduce Bob to the real world again . . .

LOVE! to all! xxoo j