Winter Wonderland . . .

So, I've started and stopped this one countless times in the past week, and still don't know how to continue. But since I'm snowed in and have nowhere to go right now, I'll give it my best shot . . .

No one person on the face of this earth should ever be dragged through the complete and utter shit that Bob has been dragged through for the past year. It simply does not end, and I'm so tired of updating this blog, because it doesn't end—ever, ever, ever . . .

And I can't even begin to give 'the situation' justice because it's layer upon layer upon layer of shit upon shit upon shit . . . but since I made the decision, a year ago, to maintain this blog as an effort to keep family and friends abreast of Bob's condition, I owe you, at the very least, an update on the latest, so I'll trudge through it as best I can, for Bob's sake, for your sake . . . .

Being back at the U is a huge bummer and a golden opportunity at the same time. But, before anyone goes and gets all happy-go-lucky with the, "See, Jen! We were right–everything happens for a reason!" shit on me, I'll be very quick to inform you that, "No, that is NOT right. At all. Period. That plain and simply, SHIT just happens in life, and it is YOURS, MINE and OUR responsibility and duty to MAKE reason and meaning of the shit, not the other way around."

I've finally figured out why that platitude has annoyed the livin' hell out of me. It's all backward, completely back-assward, peeps . . . Things just happen. It's up to us to figure out how to react. . . and sometimes, despite our best efforts, things simply do not turn out how we want them to. Shit, sometimes, just happens . . .

Bob was making such awesome progress at Bethesda, and the bleeding issue that sent him back to the U was a huge downer, but presented the perfect opportunity to demand some follow-up by all of the teams that had been treating him pre- and post-surgery. Follow-up that should have been arranged by someone at the U, weeks ago . . .

The bleeding from the surgery site was exacerbated by the fact that Bob's been on Coumadin to treat the blood clot found in his leg about three weeks ago. Previously, when he had bleeding issues, they were fairly easily controlled. One more example of the delicate balance, of how astute one needs to be, with Bob's situation. On Monday, when the bleeding started, nothing could be done to stop it, and believe you me, they tried. All day and into the evening, dressing change after dressing change, no end in sight . . . the situation finally prompted the house doc to send Bob to the U of M ER. Made the most sense to him (and to us), being the U is most familiar with Bob's history, and would likely (hopefully) best know what to do in his case.

By Tuesday morning, when I got back to the U, Bob looked alarmingly ill—pale, weak and shaking, he could barely lift himself from the bed, much less to his wheelchair. And just the day before, he'd had such a rockin' day at PT . . . Yes, I freaked. I called his nurse in and asked her to get anyone and everyone on staff in here right away, as this was not how Bob was less than 24 hours ago and it seemed he was going downhill fast. . . So who walks in the door but Dr. Suave, the repugnant doc who "oversaw" Bob post-surgery a few months back. Immediately, he starts spewing crap that sounds oh-so impressive, but has nothing whatsoever to do with Bob personally. He starts talking about holding all the blood thinners (aspirin and Plavix, included), to stop the bleeding. "You will not touch any of Bob's blood thinners until you discuss it with his cardiologist. Nothing!" I tell him. He seems a little taken aback at my insane reaction . . .

Needless (or maybe needful?) to say, Dr. Suave at least had the sense to back out graciously, and from here on out, we've seen no one but those who have a fully vested interest in Bob's case. The huge issue, with Bob's situation right now, is that there is some "unidentifiable" tissue protruding from the wound site. . . the first doc at the U to actually look at it said it doesn't look like bowel tissue to him, which is a whole new perspective. Good or bad, we don't know. It could be that new tissue is simply forming in the wound site that has a different "look" than the rest of the wound, could be something entirely different . . .

As of yesterday, Bob does look so much better, sounds so much better, and even feels a helluva lot better than he did upon arrival Monday night. And, I am so very grateful that the team that admitted him (or rather, under which he was admitted. Believe me, two very different things. Makes no sense to you, me, even the people who "admit" him, fucked up system that it is. . .), is being very diligent in keeping a very close eye on him, ordering as many tests, scans, etc. as they feel are necessary to move forward. Looks like Bob'll be at the U through the weekend, at the very earliest, a Tuesday discharge back to Bethesda . . .

I didn't go into the U today, due to the raging blizzard sweeping across the state today. Hopefully tomorrow, the snow will have dissipated and I'll head in. . .