Some days in the hospital are quiet and solitary. Yesterday was a friend day.
Several nurses we hadn’t seen yet since returning to 11 North said welcome back home. That is exactly what it feels like after being in the ICU. A couple of them confided how hard it is to see Karis suffering as she is. Everyone wants to help; they are helping.
A couple of times we were able to find positions for Karis that were comfortable enough that she could rest, even without the pain medicine she begged for several hours before she could have it. And late afternoon, her nurse managed to get the doc to agree to every four hours instead of every six!
The doc thought another unit of cryo would stop Karis’s bleeding. It didn’t. But she had been so beefed up by the transfusions of the previous days that even though her hemoglobin dropped three points, she still didn’t need to have a transfusion yesterday. (Today, certainly she will need one.) The nice thing about not having a transfusion is that she doesn’t have to go through the frequent blood pressure checks, each one painful for her.
A friend came to stay with Karis for a few hours so I could go home and clean the house before Dave got back, and buy groceries. I was just starting to make supper when another friend called and said she had just put dinner into the oven for us! So instead I got to go back to the hospital and get Karis up in a chair and wash her hair so that she would feel and look nicer for her dad. Another friend popped in and sat and chatted with us, and Karis sat up in the chair for 2 1/2 hours!
During that time, Karis wanted to talk with her brother, but when we got him on the phone she seemed very confused and wasn’t able to converse. (Sorry about that, Dan!) We found out why: her blood sugar was 38! Karis was thrilled to be able to drink a glass of apple juice! But it wasn’t enough and she started to pass out (still sitting in the chair). I was able to hold her while the nurse ran for a big syringe of dextrose to shoot straight into her IV. Watching her open her eyes again, and see them turn bright, and feel her straighten her body, and speak sense again, was like watching a wilted flower suck in water on a high-speed camera. Three nurses were able to get her back into bed, pushing through her protests and cries of pain. And it was after THAT our nurse convinced the doc to shorten the time between doses.
While Karis was up in the chair, her right arm and hand blew up like a balloon while her left side stayed normal. I have no idea what that was (is) about.
Karis was settled in bed when her dad and our delicious dinner arrived (another friend battled through rush-hour traffic to pick up Dave and Rachel at the airport). The visit to Dave’s mom was a wonderful one, a memory-maker.
Karis received three cards in the hospital mail yesterday. Thank you, Linda and Michelle and Crysta!
Karis wanted to write a letter to a friend. She asked me to write for her. ”Querida Carol,” that’s as far as she got. But she was thinking and praying for you, Carol, and Cristina, and Felipe, and all of your family. She spends most of her time thinking about her friends and praying for them.
We are blessed.
So sorry to know of so much suffering. Love you Karis! And grateful on your behalf that your loving family and friends are supporting you in this painful time. Aunt Elaine