... to what???
Really, we don't have a clue.
Still, Mauri and I decided to do a countdown of 30 days from the date of his last big operation (last Monday). To us, it seemed like a good measure of how long it might take for those last grafted areas to heal.
Noone has really given any real feedback as to how much longer Mauri will be in the hospital. In fact, one of his doctors last time told me that she'd be able to tell me how long it will be until he gets the "alta," if I could tell her the winning numbers to the primitiva lottery.
Not completely amused by the response, nor confident in my ability to guess winning lottery tickets (alas, I am one who is more "afortunada en el amor" than "en el juego"), I resorted to following through with our silly little countdown.
Actually, giving it some more thought, out 30 day countdown is actually pretty logical. When Mauri arrived at the ICU, 4 weeks ago today, we were told that he would probably be there for about a month (almost there?!?!?). We were also told that it would take 2-3 months for him to be given the "alta."
His healing has been better than expected (they admit that his back and face have healed exceptionally well and that they never expected such a big part of his back, with as badly as it was burnt, to have epithelialized on its own). So, I would guess that our 30 day countdown should more than cover it.
Am I being overly optimistic???
Mauri would say yes.
Obviously he'll have more healing to do, but I'm hoping that most of it can take place at home, making occasional trips to the hospital for "curas."
Either way, I know that because of the heat in the ICU that Mauri is pushing to leave the carcel ASAP, despite his normally sleeping better on the special bed. He will also push to leave the hospital ASAP because he wants to arrive at home. Since I have made it clear that I can dedicate all of my time to helping him heal, it may bee sooner than either of us imagines.
Mauri doesn't feel as optimistic as I do, but I get the feeling that he will be leaving the ICU in the next couple of days. The doctors give me that "vibe."
I can only hope I'm right.
Tomorrow, we'll have a better idea.
Anyways, yesterday's visits were much less eventful than Tuesday's. (luckily)
Yes, I know, I was a bit overly dramatic in my story telling about Tuesday (at least for the IV bleeding part), but really the day was dramatic enough for that type of melodrama.
In all actuality, the story about the guy who escaped was told just as it happened. Mauri was scared for our (and his own, I'm sure) safety.
Today's visits were also pretty uneventful, except for the fact that this evening I finally had the privilege to go into the ICU. They told me that it was because noone else was in there, and because Mauri was still in the bed. So, I went to see him.
He decided, though, that he wanted to get out of the bed because he couldn't take the heat anymore. They decided to move him nearby to see if separating him from the heat of the bed would make any difference in how he felt.
I got to experience first hand the heat of the ICU. It was worse than what I had imagined- definitely not somewhere that a burn patient, or any sick person, should be.
We moved Mauri's tv- this was a must- because later on Spain would be playing in the semifinals of the European cup (a historical event). I spent awhile playing with the antenna, which we taped to the walls with surgical tape, enough to get some sound to go with the fuzzy, black and white reception of the game.
It's funny that with what has been happening with Mauri, I'm oblivious to everything that's happening around me. I have no idea what day it is ever, nor do I know what is happening in the news. That's true, of course, of everything except soccer.
It is impossible to be in Spain and be oblivious to the fact that Spain is now in the finals. I didn't watch the game. I was on the bus home. Still, I knew what had happened.
I arrived to a Denia that was filled with fireworks, people driving around the streets, honking their horns, waving the Spanish flag out the window. Others were running around in Spanish soccer jerseys waving the flag and jumping and yelling.
Seeing how happy everyone was, you'd have thought that Spain had won the world cup.
One step closer to winning the European one.
26 days to go...
jueves, 26 de junio de 2008
An Inmate Escapes
Lest you think I exaggerate when I compare Grandes Quemados to the carcel, Tuesday's events may sway you to think as I do.
Confined to the hot-air-blowing bed all day to help make sure that the skin grafts on his back would take, Mauri tried to survive the newest heat wave, coming just as the barely working air conditioners of Grandes Quemados broke down completely, and most likely, for good. Soaked with sweat, I desperately tried to keep cool in the waiting room with my 2 euro Cosetes fan while I waited for the jail guards to let me through for my one hour window visit. Lately, it has been just that: one hour- rarely am I let in early anymore.
We got to his window, and Mauri could barely stay awake. He hadn't been able to sleep the night before, mostly because of the heat, and sweat was pouring down his face, despite the fact that he had his "contraband" fan blowing high-speed at him from as close as possible.
Each time I visit, the rules and regulations of this area seem so much more absurd, and the poor management of the hospital become that much more aparent. Today I wouldn't be able to see Mauri again. He was confined to his bed, so I wouldn't be able to be the only one to go visit him with my surgery gown, cap and booties today. (Nobody else in the unit takes these precautions. The nurses lean over him, running their long, sweaty hair over him, without the need to wear the cap- and, what's worse, without the need to even wear their hair up. Nobody else wears the surgeon's gown nor the booties. Everyone else runs around in their scrubs, and then goes right back in to be where Mauri is). Ah, but these are the rules. I should be greatful. They break the rules, so to speak, to even let me see Mauri every once in awhile, and they love to point that out at every session.
Anyways, speaking to Mauri was difficult. He kept closing his eyes, and had a hard time talking to us. That is, until he was startled awake by the realization that he was about to be bathed in a puddle of his own blood. The nurse had recently come to take away one of the meds of his IV, and aparently, the IV was left open to let Mauri bleed to death. For the first time in the last 3 and a half weeks of being there, I heard Mauri scream for a nurse. Luckily there was no emergency today, because someone actually came in the room to see what was the matter. As you will recall, nobody feels the need to stick around in the ICU when there is an emergency, and Mauri has no way to call for help if he needs it. Monday, after the surgery, he had been waiting for over an hour for someone to come to his aid. (Why should we expect such ammendities as a call button and a nurse always around the ICU and an air conditioner?? There is no need for such things as the inmates are already forced to stay. There is no competition here, nowhere else to go. Why improve a hospital when the patients are already assured? This is seguridad social. You automatically pay your 900 euros a month (cutting the average Spanish salary in half- although most people, not running their own business, don't realize where half of their salary is going) to the government so that they can provide you with the wonderful service iof guiding you where to go: your only option.)
Anyways, the nurse put a cap on the IV, and soaked up the blood in some cloths, and away she ran. All I could think about was what would have happened if Mauri had fallen asleep and hadn't noticed?? With the usual noone coming around for hours at a time, what would have happened??
When I left the visit, I was once again aware of the fact that I don't much trust the care of the ICU. I don't understand how if there is a rule to not let anyone in to be with the patients, then how can the nurses leave them so abandoned, and with no way to call for help?? My uneasiness was further pushed to the limit, though, later on in the afternoon.
As Mauri is starting to get better, I feel a little better, and have been taking a bit better care of myself. I haven't been wearing the same shorts and capris that had become my uniform the first 3 weeks. Anyways, Tuesday I was hoping to be able to see Mauri, so I dressed up a bit, and no longer had pockets to hold the two cell phones that I've carried around for the last several weeks. Holding them in my pockets, I could feel the phones vibrate when someone called, even if I couldn't hear the phones ring, but now, this was no longer the case.
Tusday afternoon, the phone rang as we were walking the big, noisy street on the way to the hospital. Of course, I heard nothing. Mauri's mom heard a call to her phone, and when she answered, we realized that it was Mauri screaming for us not to go to the hospital visit. He had also complained about my not answering my phone. After hanging up, she told me what he said.
--What do you mean we can't go visit him?? Did you ask why??
--I couldn't hear him- it's too noisy here.
After waiting in Valencia all day, I wasn't about to leave without my visit.
I immediately called Mauri, and realized he was nervous, and he didn't want to explain what the problem was. He only said something about an escape, and that he would explain later. He told us to stay away for our safety, and that he would call us when it was safe to go there.
We stopped at a bar to get something to drink, trying to interpret what had happened. All I could think of was the new patient who had been banging on the window as we walked passed him this morning. He has been in the ICU for several days after burning himself in the sun (yes, only the sun!!) while drunk. I assumed that it was because he had no visitors, and that he was bored. I was probably wrong. When Mauri called, he told us to slowly and carefully head over. So we did.
We arrived to a scene of many police and hopital workers holding down a patient on a cot, with the ambulance waiting outside. Many people were covered in blood, and everyone was bathing in their own sweat. Outside, shattered glass was on the ground below an open, broken window.
So it seems, the new inmate had decided to escape. He couldn't take the ICU anymore, so he broke the double-pane visiting window with his arm. Then he jumped through and broke the outsude double-pane window. In his attempt to escape, he had threatened several nurses with broken pieces of glass, and had even managed to injure several of them.
We were forced to wait for 45 minutes more for our visit to begin. They wanted to clean up the bloody mess before allowing us to pass, so meanwhile we tried to stay cool in the visitng room. Realizing that all of the fans in Cosetes wouldn't make that possible, we went outside where the wind helped us to feel much better.
I could only think that Mauri doesn't have the luxury of being able to go outside when he can't take the heat of the carcel oven.
Other than the constant banging of the maintenance workers trying to cover the window, the visit was uneventful. Mauri explained that the patient had been in his room, and that he was there, defenseless, in the special bed. Had the patient wanted to hurt him, nothing would have stopped him. Luckily, it didn't happen. There is talk that the patient will return to the burn ICU, but this time tied up and drugged. I'm not sure that this helps me feel calmer about it.
As we left, sweat was dripping down Mauri's face.
Confined to the hot-air-blowing bed all day to help make sure that the skin grafts on his back would take, Mauri tried to survive the newest heat wave, coming just as the barely working air conditioners of Grandes Quemados broke down completely, and most likely, for good. Soaked with sweat, I desperately tried to keep cool in the waiting room with my 2 euro Cosetes fan while I waited for the jail guards to let me through for my one hour window visit. Lately, it has been just that: one hour- rarely am I let in early anymore.
We got to his window, and Mauri could barely stay awake. He hadn't been able to sleep the night before, mostly because of the heat, and sweat was pouring down his face, despite the fact that he had his "contraband" fan blowing high-speed at him from as close as possible.
Each time I visit, the rules and regulations of this area seem so much more absurd, and the poor management of the hospital become that much more aparent. Today I wouldn't be able to see Mauri again. He was confined to his bed, so I wouldn't be able to be the only one to go visit him with my surgery gown, cap and booties today. (Nobody else in the unit takes these precautions. The nurses lean over him, running their long, sweaty hair over him, without the need to wear the cap- and, what's worse, without the need to even wear their hair up. Nobody else wears the surgeon's gown nor the booties. Everyone else runs around in their scrubs, and then goes right back in to be where Mauri is). Ah, but these are the rules. I should be greatful. They break the rules, so to speak, to even let me see Mauri every once in awhile, and they love to point that out at every session.
Anyways, speaking to Mauri was difficult. He kept closing his eyes, and had a hard time talking to us. That is, until he was startled awake by the realization that he was about to be bathed in a puddle of his own blood. The nurse had recently come to take away one of the meds of his IV, and aparently, the IV was left open to let Mauri bleed to death. For the first time in the last 3 and a half weeks of being there, I heard Mauri scream for a nurse. Luckily there was no emergency today, because someone actually came in the room to see what was the matter. As you will recall, nobody feels the need to stick around in the ICU when there is an emergency, and Mauri has no way to call for help if he needs it. Monday, after the surgery, he had been waiting for over an hour for someone to come to his aid. (Why should we expect such ammendities as a call button and a nurse always around the ICU and an air conditioner?? There is no need for such things as the inmates are already forced to stay. There is no competition here, nowhere else to go. Why improve a hospital when the patients are already assured? This is seguridad social. You automatically pay your 900 euros a month (cutting the average Spanish salary in half- although most people, not running their own business, don't realize where half of their salary is going) to the government so that they can provide you with the wonderful service iof guiding you where to go: your only option.)
Anyways, the nurse put a cap on the IV, and soaked up the blood in some cloths, and away she ran. All I could think about was what would have happened if Mauri had fallen asleep and hadn't noticed?? With the usual noone coming around for hours at a time, what would have happened??
When I left the visit, I was once again aware of the fact that I don't much trust the care of the ICU. I don't understand how if there is a rule to not let anyone in to be with the patients, then how can the nurses leave them so abandoned, and with no way to call for help?? My uneasiness was further pushed to the limit, though, later on in the afternoon.
As Mauri is starting to get better, I feel a little better, and have been taking a bit better care of myself. I haven't been wearing the same shorts and capris that had become my uniform the first 3 weeks. Anyways, Tuesday I was hoping to be able to see Mauri, so I dressed up a bit, and no longer had pockets to hold the two cell phones that I've carried around for the last several weeks. Holding them in my pockets, I could feel the phones vibrate when someone called, even if I couldn't hear the phones ring, but now, this was no longer the case.
Tusday afternoon, the phone rang as we were walking the big, noisy street on the way to the hospital. Of course, I heard nothing. Mauri's mom heard a call to her phone, and when she answered, we realized that it was Mauri screaming for us not to go to the hospital visit. He had also complained about my not answering my phone. After hanging up, she told me what he said.
--What do you mean we can't go visit him?? Did you ask why??
--I couldn't hear him- it's too noisy here.
After waiting in Valencia all day, I wasn't about to leave without my visit.
I immediately called Mauri, and realized he was nervous, and he didn't want to explain what the problem was. He only said something about an escape, and that he would explain later. He told us to stay away for our safety, and that he would call us when it was safe to go there.
We stopped at a bar to get something to drink, trying to interpret what had happened. All I could think of was the new patient who had been banging on the window as we walked passed him this morning. He has been in the ICU for several days after burning himself in the sun (yes, only the sun!!) while drunk. I assumed that it was because he had no visitors, and that he was bored. I was probably wrong. When Mauri called, he told us to slowly and carefully head over. So we did.
We arrived to a scene of many police and hopital workers holding down a patient on a cot, with the ambulance waiting outside. Many people were covered in blood, and everyone was bathing in their own sweat. Outside, shattered glass was on the ground below an open, broken window.
So it seems, the new inmate had decided to escape. He couldn't take the ICU anymore, so he broke the double-pane visiting window with his arm. Then he jumped through and broke the outsude double-pane window. In his attempt to escape, he had threatened several nurses with broken pieces of glass, and had even managed to injure several of them.
We were forced to wait for 45 minutes more for our visit to begin. They wanted to clean up the bloody mess before allowing us to pass, so meanwhile we tried to stay cool in the visitng room. Realizing that all of the fans in Cosetes wouldn't make that possible, we went outside where the wind helped us to feel much better.
I could only think that Mauri doesn't have the luxury of being able to go outside when he can't take the heat of the carcel oven.
Other than the constant banging of the maintenance workers trying to cover the window, the visit was uneventful. Mauri explained that the patient had been in his room, and that he was there, defenseless, in the special bed. Had the patient wanted to hurt him, nothing would have stopped him. Luckily, it didn't happen. There is talk that the patient will return to the burn ICU, but this time tied up and drugged. I'm not sure that this helps me feel calmer about it.
As we left, sweat was dripping down Mauri's face.
lunes, 23 de junio de 2008
Downhill from here?
Well, yesterday was pretty uneventful. I went by myself to Valencia and endured the much longer weekend bus rides. Mauri was doing pretty well, but he was worried about how much they might hurt him today. We still had no idea what the plan was for him, but we knew he was scheduled to enter the OR.
This morning, after having spoken with one of the doctors, Mauri still didn't know what the plan was for him. (I guess having informed consent for procedures isn't as important here as it is in the US.) He only knew that he was scheduled to be the last surgery of the day, something that didn't exactly make him happy. Apart from the fact that it meant that he wouldn't be awake to see us during the morning visiting hour, it also meant that he would be deprived much longer of food and water. Every time he is scheduled for surgery, he cannot eat or drink after midnight the night before, and isn't allowed to eat or drink again until 6 hours after the surgery is over, usually around 8PM the night of the surgery (21 hours straight with nothing to eat or drink). With the hospital being as hot as it is, being deprived of water is especially difficult for him.
We arrived at the morning visit a bit early, but we found out from our new friend, the nurse, that Mauri had basically just entered the OR. So, we were in the waiting room for quite awhile. A couple of hours later, a new doctor, on her way out, asked us if we were waiting for an appointment, but when she realized that we were there for Mauri, she happily told us that all had gone well.
She told us that they had done more debridement on his back (aka. removal of dead tissue, as in the "cleaning sessions"), and that they had finished grafting his back.
We thanked her for the information, but decided to wait for Mauri's main doctor to come out and elaborate. (As an aside, his name is Dr. Centeno and not Dr. Herrero, something that we just found out after weeks of saying how great Dr. Herrero was.)
When Dr. Centeno came out, he explained that there were three areas that were not epithelializing on their own: two on Mauri's lower back, and one on his upper back near his right shoulder. Those areas were grafted with skin from Mauri's right lower leg (the only area that hadn't been used as a donor site up until now). I imagined Mauri awaking to see his leg bandaged up, and knew that he wouldn't be very happy, but on the other hand, I was quite happy that it was done with. In the worst case scenario, they would have just bathed him, done the debridement, and only decided what to do, waiting a few more days to do the grafting, if needed. The sooner it is done, the sooner the healing can take place, which means a quicker recovery. That, for me, is good news because I can't wait until he leaves the "carcel" (aka. ICU burn unit). Over three and a half weeks of scheduling my whole day around two measly one-hour visits through a stupid window, using a walkie talkie to communicate, is starting to wear away at my nerves.
In the evening, we went to visit Mauri, who was in the special bed, but he was in too much pain to be able to say much. He had no idea what had been done to him (information is very difficult to come by in a Spanish hospital), but he figured that grafting had been done on his back when he saw that his leg had been wrapped up. We told him what the doctor had explained to us, and also shared the good news that in the next couple of days, they plan on removing his IV's and catheter so that he will have more freedom to move around on his own. We also told him that this was the last major operation that he will have to have, and from now on it is up to his body to continue the healing process. Any possible further operations will probably only be needed to correct scarring, etc.
Mauri was in too much pain to be able to appreciate that the news we were giving him, really was good news overall. All he could say was that he couldn't wait to get out of there.
Nor can I.
This morning, after having spoken with one of the doctors, Mauri still didn't know what the plan was for him. (I guess having informed consent for procedures isn't as important here as it is in the US.) He only knew that he was scheduled to be the last surgery of the day, something that didn't exactly make him happy. Apart from the fact that it meant that he wouldn't be awake to see us during the morning visiting hour, it also meant that he would be deprived much longer of food and water. Every time he is scheduled for surgery, he cannot eat or drink after midnight the night before, and isn't allowed to eat or drink again until 6 hours after the surgery is over, usually around 8PM the night of the surgery (21 hours straight with nothing to eat or drink). With the hospital being as hot as it is, being deprived of water is especially difficult for him.
We arrived at the morning visit a bit early, but we found out from our new friend, the nurse, that Mauri had basically just entered the OR. So, we were in the waiting room for quite awhile. A couple of hours later, a new doctor, on her way out, asked us if we were waiting for an appointment, but when she realized that we were there for Mauri, she happily told us that all had gone well.
She told us that they had done more debridement on his back (aka. removal of dead tissue, as in the "cleaning sessions"), and that they had finished grafting his back.
We thanked her for the information, but decided to wait for Mauri's main doctor to come out and elaborate. (As an aside, his name is Dr. Centeno and not Dr. Herrero, something that we just found out after weeks of saying how great Dr. Herrero was.)
When Dr. Centeno came out, he explained that there were three areas that were not epithelializing on their own: two on Mauri's lower back, and one on his upper back near his right shoulder. Those areas were grafted with skin from Mauri's right lower leg (the only area that hadn't been used as a donor site up until now). I imagined Mauri awaking to see his leg bandaged up, and knew that he wouldn't be very happy, but on the other hand, I was quite happy that it was done with. In the worst case scenario, they would have just bathed him, done the debridement, and only decided what to do, waiting a few more days to do the grafting, if needed. The sooner it is done, the sooner the healing can take place, which means a quicker recovery. That, for me, is good news because I can't wait until he leaves the "carcel" (aka. ICU burn unit). Over three and a half weeks of scheduling my whole day around two measly one-hour visits through a stupid window, using a walkie talkie to communicate, is starting to wear away at my nerves.
In the evening, we went to visit Mauri, who was in the special bed, but he was in too much pain to be able to say much. He had no idea what had been done to him (information is very difficult to come by in a Spanish hospital), but he figured that grafting had been done on his back when he saw that his leg had been wrapped up. We told him what the doctor had explained to us, and also shared the good news that in the next couple of days, they plan on removing his IV's and catheter so that he will have more freedom to move around on his own. We also told him that this was the last major operation that he will have to have, and from now on it is up to his body to continue the healing process. Any possible further operations will probably only be needed to correct scarring, etc.
Mauri was in too much pain to be able to appreciate that the news we were giving him, really was good news overall. All he could say was that he couldn't wait to get out of there.
Nor can I.
sábado, 21 de junio de 2008
Catching up- Part 2
Friday came around, and I was actually quite happy to be going by myself. I figured I'd have time to use the internet or go to the botanical garden, but, in the end, I never really had time for either. In the morning, I explored the mall for a little while, and then promptly headed to the waiting room to see if Pilar was going to come talk to me. I felt a little bad about her last visit, so I wanted to show her that I am not always completely out of my mind. She never came around, nor was I able to talk to Mauri ahead of time because he was busy eating, etc.- so I had come running to the waiting room early for nothing. Mauri had finally decided that it was in his best interest to move to the bed during the day (rather than spending the day sitting, trying to position himself uncomfortably so as not to rest on his back). So, he was at a different window for the visit, something that I liked much better because it meant that he was closer to the window, and I could actually see him for once.
I spent the afternoon with Mauri's cousin, at her house, and we watched tv and relaxed for awhile. In the evening, I returned to the ICU, sad to see an ambulance in front. I knew that if there was an emergency, that I wouldn't be able to go see Mauri in person. I talked to Mauri on the walkie talkie and was happy to hear that if I waited for about half an hour, that they would be finished with the emergency visit, and that I would still be able to go see Mauri. He was already ready in the wheelchair, where he had been moved right before the emergency visit arrived. So, I waited, and was finally allowed to enter and see him.
Everyone seemed much happier than several days before. Sofia asked if I was feeling better, and I happily responded that I was, quite glad to see that she wasn't mad at me. When I went in, I noticed that they had changed Mauri's bandages. He said that a little while before, an on-call doctor had decided to change the outer layers. Although it was a slightly painful experience for Mauri, it also made him feel better because the other bandages had been stained by the fluid that oozes from his burnt back- something that Mauri assured me smelled very bad (although I didn't really notice, even when I put my nose up to the bandages).
Lucky for me, they let me stay late, and they let me give Mauri his dinner again.
Once dinner was over, I ran to catch my bus.
Friday night I was finally able to catch up on my sleep. Since I was planning on going to Valencia with Mauri's parents, brother, and our niece, I didn't have to catch the early bus, and was able to sleep a little later than usual. I wrote up a blog entry, and then was off to Valencia. This morning, Mauri was once again in the same bed as yesterday. The whole family talked to him, and then we went to go eat. After lunch, the rest of the family went home, and I decided to hang out at the mall. I wrote the other blog entry, and went running back to the clinic.
A little bit past 6:30, they let me go in and see Mauri, but he wasn't feeling very well. Every evening, he seems to have a fever, and is given Nolotil to help bring it down. Unfortunately, the Nolotil also makes him feel very hot. He tells them to use a slow drip rate, so that it won't affect him so much, but this time, the nurse didn't listen. So, Mauri was feeling pretty sick throughout the visit, and just as he started to feel better, I was told that I had to leave (7:30, right on the hour this time). I guess I can't complain, at least I got to go see him.
Having been kicked out on time, I had an extra hour and a half to kill. So, I bought some groceries to bring home with me (I'm never in Denia during the times that supermarkets can be open- another thing I can thank the actual government for), and I bought myself some magazines and a doner kebap to eat on the bus ride home.
I'm sure the next two days will be just as uneventful as the last 2 were... and then will come Monday.
I spent the afternoon with Mauri's cousin, at her house, and we watched tv and relaxed for awhile. In the evening, I returned to the ICU, sad to see an ambulance in front. I knew that if there was an emergency, that I wouldn't be able to go see Mauri in person. I talked to Mauri on the walkie talkie and was happy to hear that if I waited for about half an hour, that they would be finished with the emergency visit, and that I would still be able to go see Mauri. He was already ready in the wheelchair, where he had been moved right before the emergency visit arrived. So, I waited, and was finally allowed to enter and see him.
Everyone seemed much happier than several days before. Sofia asked if I was feeling better, and I happily responded that I was, quite glad to see that she wasn't mad at me. When I went in, I noticed that they had changed Mauri's bandages. He said that a little while before, an on-call doctor had decided to change the outer layers. Although it was a slightly painful experience for Mauri, it also made him feel better because the other bandages had been stained by the fluid that oozes from his burnt back- something that Mauri assured me smelled very bad (although I didn't really notice, even when I put my nose up to the bandages).
Lucky for me, they let me stay late, and they let me give Mauri his dinner again.
Once dinner was over, I ran to catch my bus.
Friday night I was finally able to catch up on my sleep. Since I was planning on going to Valencia with Mauri's parents, brother, and our niece, I didn't have to catch the early bus, and was able to sleep a little later than usual. I wrote up a blog entry, and then was off to Valencia. This morning, Mauri was once again in the same bed as yesterday. The whole family talked to him, and then we went to go eat. After lunch, the rest of the family went home, and I decided to hang out at the mall. I wrote the other blog entry, and went running back to the clinic.
A little bit past 6:30, they let me go in and see Mauri, but he wasn't feeling very well. Every evening, he seems to have a fever, and is given Nolotil to help bring it down. Unfortunately, the Nolotil also makes him feel very hot. He tells them to use a slow drip rate, so that it won't affect him so much, but this time, the nurse didn't listen. So, Mauri was feeling pretty sick throughout the visit, and just as he started to feel better, I was told that I had to leave (7:30, right on the hour this time). I guess I can't complain, at least I got to go see him.
Having been kicked out on time, I had an extra hour and a half to kill. So, I bought some groceries to bring home with me (I'm never in Denia during the times that supermarkets can be open- another thing I can thank the actual government for), and I bought myself some magazines and a doner kebap to eat on the bus ride home.
I'm sure the next two days will be just as uneventful as the last 2 were... and then will come Monday.
Let's see if I can catch up...
Anyways, I'm back at surfing the net at the mall. It may not be the cheapest place, but it is the most convenient, and the place where I'll least likely be attacked by some man with a beard that talks to himself. At least it lets me pass the time until my next visit.
Possibly the most depressing thing about this experience is that I'm constantly hoping for time to go by. Normally, I would be waiting for summer to come, but this year I would prefer to hibernate it away, hoping to awaken to this whole ordeal being over with. Sadly, I think Mauri would choose to do the same. He has already hinted at wishing that Dr. House were his doctor so that he could provoke a temporary coma that would last the entire healing process.
Going back to where I was before:
Tuesday night, when I got on the bus, Mauri sent me a message that he was feeling better. Unfortunately, although that did help a little, it was too little too late. I was already too upset, but even so, I was able to fall asleep when I got home.
The next morning, I didn't exactly feel better. I once again was being accompanied by Mauri's mom, and she was trying to cheer me up, but it only made matters worse. (For future reference, it's good to know that I usually just need to be left alone when I'm upset, especially for those who don't like being barked at). We went to the waiting room early, and I went to talk to Pilar, a nurse who works there that knows a friend of my aunt. (Complicated enough??) Unfortunately, it wasn't the best day for anyone to meet me. I told her why I was upset (it felt like we were starting over again, and that the end was noowhere in sight- plus I'd had enough of talking to my husband over the walkie talkie through the stupid window- I may as well be talking over the cell phone in video conferencing mode and save myself the trip- it's not like I could see him). Always the "helper," Mauri's mom said that the situation was great because they'd even brought him out to see me. Of course, she said all of this in front of the wife of the other patient that had recently been brought to the ICU, which would later cause us more problems.
We visited Mauri, and he could tell I was upset. He told me not to worry, that he was feeling a lot better, and that I needed to get some sleep. (Somebody knows me a little too well, as sleep deprivation doesn't exactly bring out the best in me).
We spent the afternoon at Mauri's cousin's house. It hadn't been planned for today, but after the revelation that I was tired to the point of being irrationally difficult, it was decided that I needed a place to nap. After lunch, I was directed to go upstairs and sleep on their bed, something that did help me feel a little bit better. We arrived at the visit, and I was excited because I heard that they were planning on bringing Mauri out. Many minutes past visiting time had passed, though, and the "bruja" didn't say anything. I heard a door open, still with no word, and the other patient's family entered. So, we decided to follow. We got to Mauri's window, and Sofia and Josefina were moving Mauri to a wheelchair- a good sign. So I went back out to wait at the entrance. Sofia came to get me, and when Mauri's mom followed, she told me that only one person could enter. I asked if we could tke turns, and the usually cheerful Sofia, just looked past me and told me that this wasn't going to be like this always and that I may not get to see him like this again. So, Pepita waited in the waiting room, and Mauri and I tried to enjoy what we thought might be our last visit together.
We couldn't understand what had happened, and I didn't understand why Sofia seemed so cold. What had I done wrong???
A different nice nurse came to talk to us, and she even let me give Mauri his dinner again. She said that she didn't know what had happened, and why everyone was so serious today, but that she would try to find out. So it seems, the other patient's family had gone to complain that Mauri could see me in person, but that he couldn't see his wife. (Of course, that patient will only be in ICU for a total of 10 days- and Mauri had been there for 2 weeks before he could see me in person every once in awhile). She told us that a lot depended on each patient's doctor, as it really is against policy for people in the ICU to get visits. She explained that some doctors are very strict about it, and then told us about a patient who was there for 6 months, without being able to see his wife who came from far enough away to not get home until 2AM each night!! She described that as being "inhumane," and I would have to agree.
I sadly said goodbye to Mauri, and went home, once again upset.
After some more sleep, though, I felt a bit better.
Thursday was less eventful. Fortunately, though, in the evening, they let me go see Mauri again. It turns out that I can still go see him when possible, but that if there is an emergency patient or anything that prevents the visit, that, of course, it would be an impossibility. That explanation made me feel much better. It wasn't that they didn't want to let me see him anymore, it was just that they were trying to let me know that I shouldn't expect it every day.
Sofia wasn't there, so I couldn't try to see if she still seemed upset with me. Instead, a new nurse Laura, (probably taking over for the retired nurse with "bad milk") let me in. Mauri's mom wasn't allowed in again, and, although it made me feel a little bad for her, I have to admit that I like to have a bit of privacy with Mauri for a change. So, I selfishly have to admit that I'm not too upset about this new rule.
So, thursday night passed, and I felt much better.
Well, once again, I must go...
off to my Saturday evening visit with Mauri.
We'll see if I'm awake enough to can catch you up tonight.
Possibly the most depressing thing about this experience is that I'm constantly hoping for time to go by. Normally, I would be waiting for summer to come, but this year I would prefer to hibernate it away, hoping to awaken to this whole ordeal being over with. Sadly, I think Mauri would choose to do the same. He has already hinted at wishing that Dr. House were his doctor so that he could provoke a temporary coma that would last the entire healing process.
Going back to where I was before:
Tuesday night, when I got on the bus, Mauri sent me a message that he was feeling better. Unfortunately, although that did help a little, it was too little too late. I was already too upset, but even so, I was able to fall asleep when I got home.
The next morning, I didn't exactly feel better. I once again was being accompanied by Mauri's mom, and she was trying to cheer me up, but it only made matters worse. (For future reference, it's good to know that I usually just need to be left alone when I'm upset, especially for those who don't like being barked at). We went to the waiting room early, and I went to talk to Pilar, a nurse who works there that knows a friend of my aunt. (Complicated enough??) Unfortunately, it wasn't the best day for anyone to meet me. I told her why I was upset (it felt like we were starting over again, and that the end was noowhere in sight- plus I'd had enough of talking to my husband over the walkie talkie through the stupid window- I may as well be talking over the cell phone in video conferencing mode and save myself the trip- it's not like I could see him). Always the "helper," Mauri's mom said that the situation was great because they'd even brought him out to see me. Of course, she said all of this in front of the wife of the other patient that had recently been brought to the ICU, which would later cause us more problems.
We visited Mauri, and he could tell I was upset. He told me not to worry, that he was feeling a lot better, and that I needed to get some sleep. (Somebody knows me a little too well, as sleep deprivation doesn't exactly bring out the best in me).
We spent the afternoon at Mauri's cousin's house. It hadn't been planned for today, but after the revelation that I was tired to the point of being irrationally difficult, it was decided that I needed a place to nap. After lunch, I was directed to go upstairs and sleep on their bed, something that did help me feel a little bit better. We arrived at the visit, and I was excited because I heard that they were planning on bringing Mauri out. Many minutes past visiting time had passed, though, and the "bruja" didn't say anything. I heard a door open, still with no word, and the other patient's family entered. So, we decided to follow. We got to Mauri's window, and Sofia and Josefina were moving Mauri to a wheelchair- a good sign. So I went back out to wait at the entrance. Sofia came to get me, and when Mauri's mom followed, she told me that only one person could enter. I asked if we could tke turns, and the usually cheerful Sofia, just looked past me and told me that this wasn't going to be like this always and that I may not get to see him like this again. So, Pepita waited in the waiting room, and Mauri and I tried to enjoy what we thought might be our last visit together.
We couldn't understand what had happened, and I didn't understand why Sofia seemed so cold. What had I done wrong???
A different nice nurse came to talk to us, and she even let me give Mauri his dinner again. She said that she didn't know what had happened, and why everyone was so serious today, but that she would try to find out. So it seems, the other patient's family had gone to complain that Mauri could see me in person, but that he couldn't see his wife. (Of course, that patient will only be in ICU for a total of 10 days- and Mauri had been there for 2 weeks before he could see me in person every once in awhile). She told us that a lot depended on each patient's doctor, as it really is against policy for people in the ICU to get visits. She explained that some doctors are very strict about it, and then told us about a patient who was there for 6 months, without being able to see his wife who came from far enough away to not get home until 2AM each night!! She described that as being "inhumane," and I would have to agree.
I sadly said goodbye to Mauri, and went home, once again upset.
After some more sleep, though, I felt a bit better.
Thursday was less eventful. Fortunately, though, in the evening, they let me go see Mauri again. It turns out that I can still go see him when possible, but that if there is an emergency patient or anything that prevents the visit, that, of course, it would be an impossibility. That explanation made me feel much better. It wasn't that they didn't want to let me see him anymore, it was just that they were trying to let me know that I shouldn't expect it every day.
Sofia wasn't there, so I couldn't try to see if she still seemed upset with me. Instead, a new nurse Laura, (probably taking over for the retired nurse with "bad milk") let me in. Mauri's mom wasn't allowed in again, and, although it made me feel a little bad for her, I have to admit that I like to have a bit of privacy with Mauri for a change. So, I selfishly have to admit that I'm not too upset about this new rule.
So, thursday night passed, and I felt much better.
Well, once again, I must go...
off to my Saturday evening visit with Mauri.
We'll see if I'm awake enough to can catch you up tonight.
Still in waiting
I didn't mean to keep anyone in suspense about what happened on Tuesday, but in the interest of preserving the little sanity that I had remaining, I decided that it was more important to sleep than to blog for a couple of days.
Tuesday didn't quite go as expected. We were hoping that Mauri wouldn't wake up to find a newly bandaged leg, and, to a certain extent, we got what we were hoping for.
No, they hadn't grafted the area on his back, but they hadn't decided that they weren't going to do it either. So, the day that was supposed to be the moment of truth, really wasn't, and we were forced into 6 more days of waiting, unknowing.
While this seemed like good news to Mauri's dad and my aunt (for some strange reason), for Mauri and I, it was worse news than either of the expected possible outcomes. Instead of finally knowing what was going to happen, and just getting it over with, we were once again stuck in limbo, not-knowing what to expect. Yes, I know, I'm the one who said "No news is good news," and, logically, it is better to be conservative in treatment rather than unnecessarily doing an invasive procedure like skin grafting. From our point of view, though, if they had decided that no grafting would need to be done, Mauri may have been moved up out of the "carcel" as early as by the end of the week (meaning he would have been out of there already). Had they grafted, it would have meant that they would have had to wait a couple of weeks for those grafts to stabilize before releasing him upstairs. In our new case scenario, though, we would have to wait yet another week. On Monday they would have another look and decide, possibly grafting later in the week, meaning that Mauri would be stuck in the ICU for several more weeks than originally planned.
The ICU is relatively empty right now: Mauri has been alone most of the time, and for the last couple of days there has only been one other patient on the other side of the ICU that will only be down there for a few more days. On the other hand, a normal Spanish hospital room is crammed with several patient beds (the doctor said we could expect 3 patients per tiny room, although some only have 2). So, for them, it seemed much better (more comfortable) for Mauri to be down in the ICU, and to a certain extent, they are right. They see it as a haven for rest and relaxation (ignoring the constant beeping of machines and bells announcing emergency burns). On the other hand, though, the "normas" of the ICU are very strict, and down there he has, at most, two hours of entertainment (in the way of visits behind a double-glass, tiny window) a day. Being "locked-up" and away from your friends and family is much harder than it may sound. It makes sharing a tiny, worn-down, old, ugly hospital room with 2 other patients and their 36 noisy visitors sound like a party. They haven't been through 3 weeks of it, so they can't really understand.
To brighten up my already super-fun day, my aunt decided that having dinner at her good friend's house (whom I had never met) was just what I needed to lift up my spirits. Anyone who knows me well enough would know that I'd much rather pull a full quadrant of teeth (despite my lack of recent practice) than to go spend the day at a stranger's house. Seeing as I really had no choice, though, I obliged. In exchange for my willingness to be a joiner, I was met with a table set with a few of my favorite things: potato salad, morcilla, and habas (#4, #6 and #7 on my list of "grossest" foods, right behind hard-boiled eggs, worms, and grasshoppers). ¡Qué maravilla!
At anyone else's house, I could let it be known that there was nothing on that table that was going to enter my mouth. Here, though, I didn't know the host, and my plate was automatically filled with a huge portion of potato salad. Finally, though, luck would be on my side, and the host announced that sadly the potato salad was quite boring- it only had tuna fish, potatoes, and arti"chokes" (properly named, of course). Not having hard-boiled egg in it, I could at least force down a few fork-fulls of cold potatoes smothered in mayonnaise, and that's just what I did.
Don't get me wrong, the woman was very nice, and, actually, I'd discover was quite a good cook later on when she brought out a plate of chicken in sauce (I don't know why it was hidden away earlier). She even gave us a bowl of homemade strawberry ice cream while we sat out on her balcony that looked out over Valencia and Mestalla (fútbol stadium). It's just that what feels like home to my aunt, isn't necessarily "home" for me. I was happy to get back to the normally dreaded "carcel" and see Mauri for the first time that day.
The visit, though, wasn't what I expected and Mauri was more uncomfortable than I'd seen him up to this point. Not only was he upset about the new news, was suffering from the procedure on his back, but he was overcome by a heat wave that he said he couldn't take anymore. (Later on we would find out that this was probably a reaction to one of the meds they gave him). The nurses came in and told him that there was nothing that they could do, and when they left him there to suffer though it, he got even more upset- to the point that he said he wanted to throw himself from the bed (luckily, it is impossible for even a strong, healthy person to get up out of it without help). This is the hardest part of the ICU- being behind a window, seeing the person you love suffering on the other side (many times without help from anyone there who should be caring for him), and not being able to do anything to help him. Mauri's dad, seeing that Mauri had reached the point of desperation, ran for help.
They brought in ice cubes and a bottle of ice water, and started to cool him down by running them over his head and neck. Unfortunately, though, our hour was up, and we were sent on our way out the door before he had fully calmed down.
That was what pushed me into hysterical mode. I left, running on very little sleep, without knowing what was happening, only being able to think that I no longer had the end of the nightmare in sight.
I hate to leave you in suspense again, but I have to leave for the hospital now. I will finish updating on the rest of the week later on. Just know, so as not to worry, that things are a little bit better.
Tuesday didn't quite go as expected. We were hoping that Mauri wouldn't wake up to find a newly bandaged leg, and, to a certain extent, we got what we were hoping for.
No, they hadn't grafted the area on his back, but they hadn't decided that they weren't going to do it either. So, the day that was supposed to be the moment of truth, really wasn't, and we were forced into 6 more days of waiting, unknowing.
While this seemed like good news to Mauri's dad and my aunt (for some strange reason), for Mauri and I, it was worse news than either of the expected possible outcomes. Instead of finally knowing what was going to happen, and just getting it over with, we were once again stuck in limbo, not-knowing what to expect. Yes, I know, I'm the one who said "No news is good news," and, logically, it is better to be conservative in treatment rather than unnecessarily doing an invasive procedure like skin grafting. From our point of view, though, if they had decided that no grafting would need to be done, Mauri may have been moved up out of the "carcel" as early as by the end of the week (meaning he would have been out of there already). Had they grafted, it would have meant that they would have had to wait a couple of weeks for those grafts to stabilize before releasing him upstairs. In our new case scenario, though, we would have to wait yet another week. On Monday they would have another look and decide, possibly grafting later in the week, meaning that Mauri would be stuck in the ICU for several more weeks than originally planned.
The ICU is relatively empty right now: Mauri has been alone most of the time, and for the last couple of days there has only been one other patient on the other side of the ICU that will only be down there for a few more days. On the other hand, a normal Spanish hospital room is crammed with several patient beds (the doctor said we could expect 3 patients per tiny room, although some only have 2). So, for them, it seemed much better (more comfortable) for Mauri to be down in the ICU, and to a certain extent, they are right. They see it as a haven for rest and relaxation (ignoring the constant beeping of machines and bells announcing emergency burns). On the other hand, though, the "normas" of the ICU are very strict, and down there he has, at most, two hours of entertainment (in the way of visits behind a double-glass, tiny window) a day. Being "locked-up" and away from your friends and family is much harder than it may sound. It makes sharing a tiny, worn-down, old, ugly hospital room with 2 other patients and their 36 noisy visitors sound like a party. They haven't been through 3 weeks of it, so they can't really understand.
To brighten up my already super-fun day, my aunt decided that having dinner at her good friend's house (whom I had never met) was just what I needed to lift up my spirits. Anyone who knows me well enough would know that I'd much rather pull a full quadrant of teeth (despite my lack of recent practice) than to go spend the day at a stranger's house. Seeing as I really had no choice, though, I obliged. In exchange for my willingness to be a joiner, I was met with a table set with a few of my favorite things: potato salad, morcilla, and habas (#4, #6 and #7 on my list of "grossest" foods, right behind hard-boiled eggs, worms, and grasshoppers). ¡Qué maravilla!
At anyone else's house, I could let it be known that there was nothing on that table that was going to enter my mouth. Here, though, I didn't know the host, and my plate was automatically filled with a huge portion of potato salad. Finally, though, luck would be on my side, and the host announced that sadly the potato salad was quite boring- it only had tuna fish, potatoes, and arti"chokes" (properly named, of course). Not having hard-boiled egg in it, I could at least force down a few fork-fulls of cold potatoes smothered in mayonnaise, and that's just what I did.
Don't get me wrong, the woman was very nice, and, actually, I'd discover was quite a good cook later on when she brought out a plate of chicken in sauce (I don't know why it was hidden away earlier). She even gave us a bowl of homemade strawberry ice cream while we sat out on her balcony that looked out over Valencia and Mestalla (fútbol stadium). It's just that what feels like home to my aunt, isn't necessarily "home" for me. I was happy to get back to the normally dreaded "carcel" and see Mauri for the first time that day.
The visit, though, wasn't what I expected and Mauri was more uncomfortable than I'd seen him up to this point. Not only was he upset about the new news, was suffering from the procedure on his back, but he was overcome by a heat wave that he said he couldn't take anymore. (Later on we would find out that this was probably a reaction to one of the meds they gave him). The nurses came in and told him that there was nothing that they could do, and when they left him there to suffer though it, he got even more upset- to the point that he said he wanted to throw himself from the bed (luckily, it is impossible for even a strong, healthy person to get up out of it without help). This is the hardest part of the ICU- being behind a window, seeing the person you love suffering on the other side (many times without help from anyone there who should be caring for him), and not being able to do anything to help him. Mauri's dad, seeing that Mauri had reached the point of desperation, ran for help.
They brought in ice cubes and a bottle of ice water, and started to cool him down by running them over his head and neck. Unfortunately, though, our hour was up, and we were sent on our way out the door before he had fully calmed down.
That was what pushed me into hysterical mode. I left, running on very little sleep, without knowing what was happening, only being able to think that I no longer had the end of the nightmare in sight.
I hate to leave you in suspense again, but I have to leave for the hospital now. I will finish updating on the rest of the week later on. Just know, so as not to worry, that things are a little bit better.
lunes, 16 de junio de 2008
Today's the big day
Well, last night Mauri was feeling pretty low. After the doctor had told him that they might do more skin grafts with the only intact skin left of his body, really, he was pretty upset. He said that he was starting to see things getting better, but if they end up having to do the grafts, that he will be moving backwards again in the way of progressing towards healing. Of course, from the beginning, they told us that he would need to have his legs (the skin donor sites) wrapped up for two weeks. Tomorrow (Wednesday) will mark the two week point since the first surgery- meaning that he would have his right leg unwrapped soon, if they weren't going to take more skin from it.
His left leg, which had been peeled from top to bottom, is what is most painful for Mauri. Apart from that, the bandages that cover the lower leg, also cover part of his foot, and he says that they prevent him from being able to stand, because he has no strength in that leg.
From what the doctors had been telling us up until now, things have sounded positive. Mauri, however, had heard the nurses talking amongst themselves and saying that his back is really burnt- and that it looks white (not a good sign)...
So, he doesn't feel confident about tomorrow.
What I'm most worried about is that if he wakes up to see his lower right leg wrapped up, that he's going to fall into depression. He's already sick of being there, and is constantly affected by the heat, his fever, the constant flow of meds into his system...
On a different note:
I was happy to arrive and see that the work shift had changed, and that the wicked witch of the west was no longer anywhere in sight. That also meant that I was going to get lucky and be able to see Mauri in person. They let me stay waaaaaay past the end of visiting time, and let me do something that I'm supposed to keep secret (OK I got to feed him- so that meant staying past dinner- Noone say anything so that they don't get in trouble for being nice) in the interest of lifting Mauri's spirits because they also said he seemed to be feeling low. (Why do you look so serious today?)
It seems that in the evening, I usually coincide with a few nurses that are very, very nice.
The problem, in trying to judge the people that are taking care of Mauri, is that I can rarely talk to anyone. I usually end up talking to the people at the front desk, two of which feel the need to be on a power trip. Inside, other than for the incident with the nurse that put the speaker/microphone contraption on Mauri's wound and left, I haven't really seen anyone inside that seemed truly evil. There were two that we have thought have "bad milk," but one of them retired last week, and the other, little by little, is starting to warm up to Mauri. (That doesn't mean that she's super nice to him, but she's improving).
Anyways, I felt the need to clarify that since they have started to get to know Mauri, most are now quite friendly to both him and to me.
My overall negative impression of everyone was based upon the fact that the first few days, the people who always give me problems, were the ones that were around. Add to it the lack of information, the inability to talk to anyone behind the window, the not-knowing, and the seeing a few things that shouldn't happen, and the anger of not being able to see Mauri (with no logical reason for it from my standpoint)- well, you understand.
Don't get me wrong, there are still 2 or 3 people that I hate (and they can still make my life miserable), but now I can see over all of that and notice that some people there are actually quite kind (and can really help me out).
Anyways, hopefully today things will go well.
My aunt, Carmen, will be there again (she had to go anyways for a blood analysis)- and Mauri's dad is supposedly going on the bus with me- though I don't exactly understand why. So, it should be an interesting day.
His left leg, which had been peeled from top to bottom, is what is most painful for Mauri. Apart from that, the bandages that cover the lower leg, also cover part of his foot, and he says that they prevent him from being able to stand, because he has no strength in that leg.
From what the doctors had been telling us up until now, things have sounded positive. Mauri, however, had heard the nurses talking amongst themselves and saying that his back is really burnt- and that it looks white (not a good sign)...
So, he doesn't feel confident about tomorrow.
What I'm most worried about is that if he wakes up to see his lower right leg wrapped up, that he's going to fall into depression. He's already sick of being there, and is constantly affected by the heat, his fever, the constant flow of meds into his system...
On a different note:
I was happy to arrive and see that the work shift had changed, and that the wicked witch of the west was no longer anywhere in sight. That also meant that I was going to get lucky and be able to see Mauri in person. They let me stay waaaaaay past the end of visiting time, and let me do something that I'm supposed to keep secret (OK I got to feed him- so that meant staying past dinner- Noone say anything so that they don't get in trouble for being nice) in the interest of lifting Mauri's spirits because they also said he seemed to be feeling low. (Why do you look so serious today?)
It seems that in the evening, I usually coincide with a few nurses that are very, very nice.
The problem, in trying to judge the people that are taking care of Mauri, is that I can rarely talk to anyone. I usually end up talking to the people at the front desk, two of which feel the need to be on a power trip. Inside, other than for the incident with the nurse that put the speaker/microphone contraption on Mauri's wound and left, I haven't really seen anyone inside that seemed truly evil. There were two that we have thought have "bad milk," but one of them retired last week, and the other, little by little, is starting to warm up to Mauri. (That doesn't mean that she's super nice to him, but she's improving).
Anyways, I felt the need to clarify that since they have started to get to know Mauri, most are now quite friendly to both him and to me.
My overall negative impression of everyone was based upon the fact that the first few days, the people who always give me problems, were the ones that were around. Add to it the lack of information, the inability to talk to anyone behind the window, the not-knowing, and the seeing a few things that shouldn't happen, and the anger of not being able to see Mauri (with no logical reason for it from my standpoint)- well, you understand.
Don't get me wrong, there are still 2 or 3 people that I hate (and they can still make my life miserable), but now I can see over all of that and notice that some people there are actually quite kind (and can really help me out).
Anyways, hopefully today things will go well.
My aunt, Carmen, will be there again (she had to go anyways for a blood analysis)- and Mauri's dad is supposedly going on the bus with me- though I don't exactly understand why. So, it should be an interesting day.
No news is good news
Well, up until today, things were going quite well. On Saturday, I came in the morning with Mauri's mom, dad, brother, and our little niece, Noa. The visit was pretty uneventful. Mauri complained that his back hurt more than usual and that he was frustrated because he couldn't move his arms as much as he could before the last curing/cleaning session. Partly, this has to do with the fact that the bandages were put on more tightly than before, though.
After lunch, everyone went home and I stayed behind for the evening visit. I was happy to see that they were going to let Mauri out to see me in person. While I was waiting for them to get him ready, the doctor came out and talked to me. He said that Mauri was doing quite well. I told him about the pain that Mauri felt, but the doctor assured me that that was a good sign. If he didn't feel any pain, then they would be worried.
Anyways, the visit went well, and I went home exhausted- much too tired to write.
Yesterday, I came to Valencia by myself. Mauri's mom was going to take care of my niece, so I decided to call my aunt Carmen to come and keep me company. In the end, both Roberto and Carmen came, and we went to see Mauri for the morning visit. The doctors had changed the bandages on his back that morning, so he was still sore, but, despite that, he really looked better than ever. They had taken the bandages off Mauri's face, and it really looked quite good. Now, on his head, he only has a bandage on his right ear.
Other than the complaint about the rest of the bandages being too tight, Mauri was doing well. They had told him that they would adjust the bandages on Tuesday.
After lunch with Roberto and Carmen, I saw them off to their taxi, and I went to see Mauri again.
Once again lucky, they asked me if I was alone. Since I was, they told me that I could go in, and that they would bring Mauri out into the room so that I could see him in person again. I had to cut the visit a little short because the bus schedule is different on Sundays, but overall it was a good visit, and Mauri looks to be doing pretty well.
Then- came today. For the first time I'm writing from a (rather expensive- so I'll look for a new one tomorrow) place with internet nearby the hospital. Last night, I was once again too tired to write, and when I woke up in the morning, it was almost time for me to leave. Anyways, the morning visit started out OK, but when I was called out right away, I got to see that my favorite person was at the desk. I hadn't seen her since I told her off over a week ago (Friday)- and I suddenly knew why I had been kicked out so early today (she loves to do what she can to make you as miserable as possible).
I wanted to speak with a doctor- not only to ask how things had gone over the weekend with the curing session, etc., but also to find out when I should come tomorrow morning. Of course, Miss not-so-helpful told me that the doctors were in surgery.
--Do you know when they'll be done?
--No- I can't go in there while they're in surgery. (I didn't expect you to, stupid. Nor did I ask you to)
--Have they been there long?
--Since this morning
--So, I'm assuming that they'll be out soon (2:45 afternoon now already)- can I wait and talk to them.
--You can wait if you want. (with a look that says, but you'll be bothering me if you do)
As, in the evening, noone that has to do with Mauri's case is usually around, I decided to stay. After about a half an hour, my favorite woman tells me:
--The doctors have left- I didn't notice. (Of course you didn't, @$%$@$- I knew from the beginning that you were going to try to make things as bad for me as possible.)
--So, will I be able to speak to someone at night?
--You can try- and try to talk to whoever is on call. (who will be someone who usually works with kids and doesn't even have a clue as to who your husband is.) I just wanted to let you know so that you wouldn't keep waiting. (How very kind of you)
So, now I'm very frustrated again. Yes, I believe she does these things on purpose, and then tries to pretend she's helping you out when she's really trying as hard as she can to make things go badly for you.
Now, I'm even regretting having left because I wouldn't put it past her to tell me that they had left when they really hadn't.
Anyways, Mauri had told me that tomorrow, he will be under general anesthesia. They will do the deep scraping of his back, and if they feel they need to do grafting, then they will do it with the only skin Mauri has left- the skin from his lower right leg.
Mauri, of course, was frustrated by that news. That's the other reason that I wanted to talk to the doctor. To make things worse, they don't have him scheduled as the earliest surgery- he's schedule for 11:30. What does that mean? Well, he can't eat or drink all night, he won't be able to eat or drink all morning, and then he won't be able to eat or drink until 6 hours after the surgery have passed!!
So, the longer they put him off, the more miserable his day ends up being, and the less likely it is that he will be able to sleep the following night.
This evening, I can expect the witch (mole and all, that goes with her bad hair tint job) to be there. So, I'm not expecting to be able to see Mauri in person, nor do I expect to be able to be there the full hour. Lastly, I doubt I will be able to talk to a doctor- not even the one who knows nothing.
argh!!!!
I'll let you know if I'm wrong tomorrow.
After lunch, everyone went home and I stayed behind for the evening visit. I was happy to see that they were going to let Mauri out to see me in person. While I was waiting for them to get him ready, the doctor came out and talked to me. He said that Mauri was doing quite well. I told him about the pain that Mauri felt, but the doctor assured me that that was a good sign. If he didn't feel any pain, then they would be worried.
Anyways, the visit went well, and I went home exhausted- much too tired to write.
Yesterday, I came to Valencia by myself. Mauri's mom was going to take care of my niece, so I decided to call my aunt Carmen to come and keep me company. In the end, both Roberto and Carmen came, and we went to see Mauri for the morning visit. The doctors had changed the bandages on his back that morning, so he was still sore, but, despite that, he really looked better than ever. They had taken the bandages off Mauri's face, and it really looked quite good. Now, on his head, he only has a bandage on his right ear.
Other than the complaint about the rest of the bandages being too tight, Mauri was doing well. They had told him that they would adjust the bandages on Tuesday.
After lunch with Roberto and Carmen, I saw them off to their taxi, and I went to see Mauri again.
Once again lucky, they asked me if I was alone. Since I was, they told me that I could go in, and that they would bring Mauri out into the room so that I could see him in person again. I had to cut the visit a little short because the bus schedule is different on Sundays, but overall it was a good visit, and Mauri looks to be doing pretty well.
Then- came today. For the first time I'm writing from a (rather expensive- so I'll look for a new one tomorrow) place with internet nearby the hospital. Last night, I was once again too tired to write, and when I woke up in the morning, it was almost time for me to leave. Anyways, the morning visit started out OK, but when I was called out right away, I got to see that my favorite person was at the desk. I hadn't seen her since I told her off over a week ago (Friday)- and I suddenly knew why I had been kicked out so early today (she loves to do what she can to make you as miserable as possible).
I wanted to speak with a doctor- not only to ask how things had gone over the weekend with the curing session, etc., but also to find out when I should come tomorrow morning. Of course, Miss not-so-helpful told me that the doctors were in surgery.
--Do you know when they'll be done?
--No- I can't go in there while they're in surgery. (I didn't expect you to, stupid. Nor did I ask you to)
--Have they been there long?
--Since this morning
--So, I'm assuming that they'll be out soon (2:45 afternoon now already)- can I wait and talk to them.
--You can wait if you want. (with a look that says, but you'll be bothering me if you do)
As, in the evening, noone that has to do with Mauri's case is usually around, I decided to stay. After about a half an hour, my favorite woman tells me:
--The doctors have left- I didn't notice. (Of course you didn't, @$%$@$- I knew from the beginning that you were going to try to make things as bad for me as possible.)
--So, will I be able to speak to someone at night?
--You can try- and try to talk to whoever is on call. (who will be someone who usually works with kids and doesn't even have a clue as to who your husband is.) I just wanted to let you know so that you wouldn't keep waiting. (How very kind of you)
So, now I'm very frustrated again. Yes, I believe she does these things on purpose, and then tries to pretend she's helping you out when she's really trying as hard as she can to make things go badly for you.
Now, I'm even regretting having left because I wouldn't put it past her to tell me that they had left when they really hadn't.
Anyways, Mauri had told me that tomorrow, he will be under general anesthesia. They will do the deep scraping of his back, and if they feel they need to do grafting, then they will do it with the only skin Mauri has left- the skin from his lower right leg.
Mauri, of course, was frustrated by that news. That's the other reason that I wanted to talk to the doctor. To make things worse, they don't have him scheduled as the earliest surgery- he's schedule for 11:30. What does that mean? Well, he can't eat or drink all night, he won't be able to eat or drink all morning, and then he won't be able to eat or drink until 6 hours after the surgery have passed!!
So, the longer they put him off, the more miserable his day ends up being, and the less likely it is that he will be able to sleep the following night.
This evening, I can expect the witch (mole and all, that goes with her bad hair tint job) to be there. So, I'm not expecting to be able to see Mauri in person, nor do I expect to be able to be there the full hour. Lastly, I doubt I will be able to talk to a doctor- not even the one who knows nothing.
argh!!!!
I'll let you know if I'm wrong tomorrow.
sábado, 14 de junio de 2008
Friday the 13th
Other than Mauri's normal bad reaction to the cleaning sessions- this Friday the 13th was pretty uneventful. The good thing about the cleaning sessions, though, is that they give us the opportunity to speak with the doctor.
Today's news was pretty good.
During the session, they removed most of the staples from the grafts from Mauri's left arm. The doctor said that the grafts look very good. Since four days have already passed, that is a very good sign. Both arms are doing quite well, and the legs are on their way to recovery. The main concern is still how the healing on Mauri's back and sides will progress. The doctor did say that the areas seem to be epithelializing well, but that they will have a better idea of if they will have to operate or not when they do a deeper scraping of those areas next Tuesday. He said that Mauri is also doing quite well with movement, and that they will start to do more rehabilitation exercises to make the new skin more pliable. On Sunday they will do a less invasive cleaning session of just his back to make sure the area stays clean and continues to heal well.
If we are lucky, they will let us see Mauri again today (Saturday).
Today's news was pretty good.
During the session, they removed most of the staples from the grafts from Mauri's left arm. The doctor said that the grafts look very good. Since four days have already passed, that is a very good sign. Both arms are doing quite well, and the legs are on their way to recovery. The main concern is still how the healing on Mauri's back and sides will progress. The doctor did say that the areas seem to be epithelializing well, but that they will have a better idea of if they will have to operate or not when they do a deeper scraping of those areas next Tuesday. He said that Mauri is also doing quite well with movement, and that they will start to do more rehabilitation exercises to make the new skin more pliable. On Sunday they will do a less invasive cleaning session of just his back to make sure the area stays clean and continues to heal well.
If we are lucky, they will let us see Mauri again today (Saturday).
jueves, 12 de junio de 2008
The Times They are A-Changin'
Still slightly grumpy and frustrated from yesterday's events, I awoke to what promised to be a new day. The first thing I noticed was that something had happened that hasn't happened for weeks: the sun showed its face and showed no signs of wanting to hide out behind the clouds again. Not fully convinced, I decided against wearing my new bermudas. (I spend a few hours a day at the mall and, to show for it, I have six new pairs of socks, a new pair of bermuda shorts, and a fridge full of yogurt, apples and deli meats- to help me survive the "nuclear attack.")
I did decide to trade in my full-length jeans for a pair of capris, though. With my jacket and raincoat packed in my bag, just in case, I turned the tv to the news to watch as I ate my breakfast.
I have to admit that if it weren't for the empty supermarkets and gas stations, or for my proximity to the fishing sector, that right now I would be oblivious to what was happening around me.
Today, though, was a day for change.
Just when they were on the verge of completely paralyzing the entire country, the majority of the truck drivers on strike decided to sign a pact with the government and to end the strike. (All I could think was "good luck in trying to collect whatever you signed for".) As you can probably guess, I doubt that they will ever see the promised benefits, whatever they might be, but, in this case, maybe I'm wrong. (They can blackmail the government into paying up because they have the power to completely shut down the country, if needed). The fisherman have waited more than 2 years to collect on the promised government help from their last strike- which, as it was, was too little, too late (nowhere near what France or Italy has done to help, which is what was asked for).
I'm stocked up on gas, food and water- so I was ready to wait it out longer, hoping to at least see this government, who always seems to be taking, but never seems to be giving, squirm a little bit. Unfortunately, though, despite what is said on the news, they probably just did what they did with the fisherman to end the strike: bully them into stopping the strike by threatening to fine boats and take away fishing licenses, but then showing on the tv that there was a happy, peaceful settlement- something that couldn't be further from reality.
Despite the claim that things are returning to normal, Mercadona was still pretty empty when I went to go buy more batteries for the walkie talkies.
The return to normality will probably be a slow process.
Anyways, in the morning when we went to go see Mauri, he was a bit happier. As soon as the doctor arrived, he had put Mauri's fan on for him. Mauri was sitting in the chair with the fan blowing on his neck, and since there were no cleaning sessions today, he was much more awake and happy. Unfortunately, though, during our visit, they had to take some of his blood for analysis, a process that turned into a 20+ minute ordeal. Of course, I was thinking- they have all day to do these things, but they wait until my visit so that I can't talk to him.
So, I was slightly frustrated, but happy to see that Mauri felt better than usual, when I went to go eat lunch.
The 6:30 visit seemed like it was going to be more of the same. I arrived, and started to talk to Mauri over the walkie talkies from the waiting room. Then, Mauri told me in a nervous voice that they were going to do something to him that would take a couple of minutes, and that then I would be able to go back and see him.
In my mind, I was frustrated- why is it that they always wait until it's my turn to see him to do everything that they need to do?
Then, I heard my name being called. (I was thinking nervously- now what!?!?! What have i done now???) So, I nervously went to the side door, and was handed a surgery cap and gown. I couldn't believe it- they were going to, after two weeks of only seeing him far away through a window, let me see him and actually touch him.
Of course, the visit was the best of all visits since I've been there. A few minutes after entering, Pepita also came in, but after awhile, she stepped out again to give us a bit of privacy. The visit was interrupted by the arrival of an ambulance with a new burn victim, but I was too happy to care. They wheeled Mauri back into the ICU, and I went home much calmer and happier than I've been in several weeks.
It's going to be hard to go back to seeing him behind the window today, but at least yesterday's visit gave us the push we needed to keep moving forward. It came when we needed it, when we were once again nearing the peak of frustration.
I did decide to trade in my full-length jeans for a pair of capris, though. With my jacket and raincoat packed in my bag, just in case, I turned the tv to the news to watch as I ate my breakfast.
I have to admit that if it weren't for the empty supermarkets and gas stations, or for my proximity to the fishing sector, that right now I would be oblivious to what was happening around me.
Today, though, was a day for change.
Just when they were on the verge of completely paralyzing the entire country, the majority of the truck drivers on strike decided to sign a pact with the government and to end the strike. (All I could think was "good luck in trying to collect whatever you signed for".) As you can probably guess, I doubt that they will ever see the promised benefits, whatever they might be, but, in this case, maybe I'm wrong. (They can blackmail the government into paying up because they have the power to completely shut down the country, if needed). The fisherman have waited more than 2 years to collect on the promised government help from their last strike- which, as it was, was too little, too late (nowhere near what France or Italy has done to help, which is what was asked for).
I'm stocked up on gas, food and water- so I was ready to wait it out longer, hoping to at least see this government, who always seems to be taking, but never seems to be giving, squirm a little bit. Unfortunately, though, despite what is said on the news, they probably just did what they did with the fisherman to end the strike: bully them into stopping the strike by threatening to fine boats and take away fishing licenses, but then showing on the tv that there was a happy, peaceful settlement- something that couldn't be further from reality.
Despite the claim that things are returning to normal, Mercadona was still pretty empty when I went to go buy more batteries for the walkie talkies.
The return to normality will probably be a slow process.
Anyways, in the morning when we went to go see Mauri, he was a bit happier. As soon as the doctor arrived, he had put Mauri's fan on for him. Mauri was sitting in the chair with the fan blowing on his neck, and since there were no cleaning sessions today, he was much more awake and happy. Unfortunately, though, during our visit, they had to take some of his blood for analysis, a process that turned into a 20+ minute ordeal. Of course, I was thinking- they have all day to do these things, but they wait until my visit so that I can't talk to him.
So, I was slightly frustrated, but happy to see that Mauri felt better than usual, when I went to go eat lunch.
The 6:30 visit seemed like it was going to be more of the same. I arrived, and started to talk to Mauri over the walkie talkies from the waiting room. Then, Mauri told me in a nervous voice that they were going to do something to him that would take a couple of minutes, and that then I would be able to go back and see him.
In my mind, I was frustrated- why is it that they always wait until it's my turn to see him to do everything that they need to do?
Then, I heard my name being called. (I was thinking nervously- now what!?!?! What have i done now???) So, I nervously went to the side door, and was handed a surgery cap and gown. I couldn't believe it- they were going to, after two weeks of only seeing him far away through a window, let me see him and actually touch him.
Of course, the visit was the best of all visits since I've been there. A few minutes after entering, Pepita also came in, but after awhile, she stepped out again to give us a bit of privacy. The visit was interrupted by the arrival of an ambulance with a new burn victim, but I was too happy to care. They wheeled Mauri back into the ICU, and I went home much calmer and happier than I've been in several weeks.
It's going to be hard to go back to seeing him behind the window today, but at least yesterday's visit gave us the push we needed to keep moving forward. It came when we needed it, when we were once again nearing the peak of frustration.
miércoles, 11 de junio de 2008
Things are starting to heat up
Yes, things are starting to heat up in what seems to be every sense possible. "Hace más frío ahora que en enero" said the woman next to me waiting for the bus this morning. Amazingly, she's probably right. Every day I travel to Valencia armed with a jacket, a raincoat and full-length jeans- something usually unheard of this time of year here. With some luck, though, it seems that the sun may decide to show its face tomorrow.
Unfortunately, not all rising temperatures are quite so welcome. For the last few days, Mauri has complained about not being able to sleep because of the heat in his room. Apart from the fact that he normally gets hot quite easily, a number of factors are contributing to that. First of all, his burns throw off the body's ability to regulate body temperature as usual. He has been constantly feverish, and the numerous blood transfusions also make him feel hotter. Combining all of these factors with the fact that he's been, around the clock, in a bed that floats him on a current of 37ºC air (99ºF), make the heat feel unbearable to him to the point of him not being able to sleep at night.
Anyways, the hospital doesn't allow for the entrance of fans, but after talking to Mauri's doctor, Dr. Herrero- one of the only people who seems to show the slightest empathy, we worked out a compromise: we could bring Mauri a fan without fan blades (one that works by air propulsion). So, we bought one.
So, this morning, Mauri was already frustrated. The morning cleaning session was just as painful as ever, despite having been told that each time would be less harsh. The treatment and moving of him was just as brutal as ever. By the end of our visit, though, his spirits were raised by the promise of the fan.
During our visit, a couple of doctors also went to talk to him to show him some exercises that he can start to do to help make the new skin more flexible. He was also told that he'll be able to sit and stand and walk a few steps soon.
We also had the opportunity to talk to Dr. Herrero, who told us that the grafting areas looked good, and that the regeneration of his back also seems to be advancing favorably. He told us that they would do another cleaning session on Friday, which he compared to scrubbing dishes, and that next week they would do a bit deeper cleaning there to try to stimulate further regrowth. With some luck, it is still possible that they will not have to do grafting in those areas.
So, we left the clinic, ate lunch, and then went to buy Mauri his fan. Of course, when we brought it to the clinic, we were once again met by opposition. No matter what I bring him, whether it be a fan or a toothbrush, seems to bother whoever is there to receive it. Heaven forbid that they have to walk the 10 meters to his bed to bring it to him there. The fan, though, seemed to provoke an even stronger reaction.
--No, this can't come in here.
--but we talked with the doctor, maintenance, and those in charge, and bought what we were told was acceptable.
--Well, then, we'll let them plug it in tomorrow because I don't have a written order to allow it.
(OK- up to this point, I can understand the conversation, but the next question seemed to provoke real hatred and anger- an exaggerated response).
--Can't you ask the doctor about it, so that he can sleep with it on?
--No, the doctor is probably busy in the ER. Look, I clean Mauri, I sit him down, I treat him well. If you push me, though, I will treat him badly. Do you want me to treat him badly???
("yo le trato bien, pero si me aprietas, lo trataré mal. ¿Quieres que le trate mal?)
I don't think anyone said anything to provoke this type of threat. Mauri is defenseless all bandaged up, and can't do much by himself. We can't go in there to help him, so we are also helpless. It is frightening, then, that he is being cared for by someone who threatens to treat him badly, and who thinks he's doing us a huge favor by just barely doing his job.
Unfortunately, though, here you just have to "suck it up" and put up with any bad treatment given you. The patient really doesn't have any rights- especially not if he can't defend himself.
To worsen the situation, Mauri had asked to go to the restroom before we arrived at the waiting room at 6PM. They told him that they were bringing someone else first, and that then they would bring him. When we went in at 6:30, though, he still hadn't gone, but didn't push the matter because we were there. He was sitting in a chair and was also quite uncomfortable and tired and wanted to go back to the bed. No one was anywhere to be found until 7:30 sharp when we were told that we had to leave (7:30 sharp, and not a second later: someone also has to treat us badly now- since we don't have enough to deal with as is). So we told the man out front about how Mauri wanted to go to bed and to the bathroom. We were told that he was fine where he was sitting down and that he'd have to wait because a helicopter was coming with a serious burn victim. (A one and a half hour wait isn't enough for having to go to the bathroom, I guess. Who knows, now, when someone can get to him.) He's in intensive care to supposedly have more people around, and get better care, but there are many times when not even one person is around. Mauri has no way to call anyone for help- not that they would anyways. Up until now, the only way to get help was if another less serious patient heard him screaming and got up and left the ICU to look for help. (No, I'm not kidding!!) Unfortunately, though, now he's by himself in the ICU. So, what it comes down to is that they won't let us in to help him, but they won't help him either.
Yes, things are heating up everywhere.
Who was the patient in the helicopter that kept Mauri from having anyone in the ICU to provide him with even the most basic care? A victim of the "peaceful" truckers strike: a trucker whose truck was set on fire with him in it. Lest you think I exaggerate things, I took pictures of the meat section of Mercadona. You'll see that there is little left other than containers of egg yolks and trays of animal fat. These pictures were taken on Tuesday, only a day after the strike began. Since then, there is no fuel left for cars in Denia, and there is very little fresh food left anywhere. I would have taken a picture of the empty produce section and the emptying water/drink section, but I was scolded for taking pictures inside the store.
As much as I'm worried about how the strike will affect our visits, I can only think that I hope they hold out until they actually have a settlement in hand. The fishermen are still awaiting the money that was promised to them in their strike 2 and a half years ago!!!
Who knows, if someone can get the government to take notice, maybe the fishermen will benefit. I'm not holding my breath, though.
oops!!!
I bought an ipod for Mauri yesterday, and in trying to configure the computer to be able to download things for him to watch, I accidentally disabled my internet connection.
I tried to fix it last night, but finally needed to get some sleep. I was just able to fix it now, but I have to leave in 5 minutes and I'm not ready yet.
So, I'll update when I get home...
I tried to fix it last night, but finally needed to get some sleep. I was just able to fix it now, but I have to leave in 5 minutes and I'm not ready yet.
So, I'll update when I get home...
lunes, 9 de junio de 2008
Rain keeps falling on the Spanish Riviera
Unusual for this time of year, The constant rain and cold temperatures still haven't left the Levante region of Spain. Truthfully, the weather isn't the only thing with a bleak outlook here. Last night I spent a half an hour in the pouring rain to fill up my car's gas tank for fear that soon there will be none. Despite the government's promises to lower excessive taxes on fuel for various sectors, their inability to follow through has caused these sectors to go on strike, causing mass hysteria throughout the country.
The truck drivers, fishermen and farmers are the most affected, and fisherman and truck drivers are now on strike to attract the government's attention, in reminder of the unfulfilled promises. (Being the wife of a fisherman, I know for a fact that the government didn't fulfill the promises made to the fishermen after the last strike, even though the media would have you think otherwise. Fishermen are still awaiting the promised funds and help that hasn't come.) While the country can survive without fresh fish, a truck strike means that soon the supermarkets will be out of food, gas stations will be out of gas (when I went, one type of diesel had already been used up, and there was only a bit left of the other type at a few of the pumps). People are stocking up on food and gas as if they were expecting a nuclear attack.
Anyways, I was a bit nervous that this would affect the buses, and that I would have a hard time traveling to Valencia, but luckily I arrived on time and without any problems. We entered the hospital a little before 1:30, awaiting news from Mauri's doctor, but Mauri was still in surgery. After a small wait (in which time the workers went out for two smoking breaks in their scrubs- and went right back into the ICU in the same clothes without any new protection), at about 2:30, the doctor finally came out, and said that the operation had gone well. They finished the grafting on Mauri's left arm using the remaining skin from the back of Mauri's left thigh. Since he had no remaining skin on either thigh, they also removed skin from his left calf. I asked about the area on the right side of his body, where they originally had wanted to graft skin, but it seems that they are going to wait to see if it will regenerate skin on its own now. So, it seems that they have no plans for any more grafting surgeries if all goes well. The doctor also said that the grafted areas of his right arm looked good, and that in about 3 weeks, he'll be able to remove the bandages and let the grafts start to heal uncovered.
We weren't able to see Mauri then, but went back to see him at 6:30. After the surgery, he is unable to use his hands as much as before (both hands have grafted skin and tight bandages), so we couldn't use the walkie talkies. Our visit ended up being a screaming session- to try to communicate through the hospital phone system that doesn't work. Mauri was as sore and upset as he usually is after a curing session, and was even more frustrated about the fact that they still hadn't given him anything to drink (because of the surgery, he hadn't drunk water since midnight the night before) and also about us not being able to communicate well.
As tomorrow they will most likely leave him alone, he should be a lot more comfortable, and in a lot better mood: that's assuming that it is still possible to travel to Valencia tomorrow.
domingo, 8 de junio de 2008
Domingo en Valencia
Today was a lot more relaxed. Mauri was feeling a lot better, despite the new bandages on his face.
It was raining, as usual, but having come to Valencia with friends, I made it to Valor for some chocolate and churros.
Today, there's really no new news, but tomorrow after Mauri's operation, I'll be able to write a lot more.
Hasta mañana.
sábado, 7 de junio de 2008
I needed some sleep!!
Well, last night I never made it to posting. I sat on the couch, and the next thing I knew I was opening my eyes to find it was the middle of the night. I guess I eventually was going to need to get some sleep.
Anyways, today was a bit better day. Partly because going alone in the morning allowed me some alone time. I'm not used to having someone with me constantly 20 hours a day. There's very few people that I could happily spend that much time with, and I must admit that my mother-in-law isn't at the top of that list right now. Don't get me wrong, she's a great person, but she's also a very nervous person who can't sit still. I'm nervous enough already right now, so the constant pacing, moving of the legs, and opening and closing of her fan does start to wear at the little patience I have left.
Anyways, today I caught the 9:30 (should be called 10:00) bus, and arrived a little before noon. I relaxed for awhile in the sun at the park, and then headed towards the hospital at around 1:00. Knowing that Mauri wasn't scheduled for any morning curing sessions, I started to call him on the walkie talkie. I entered the clinic, and found no one. Mauri didn't answer, so I started to call him on the phone. He didn't answer it either. So, I started to get nervous. You can't go in, so I couldn't go to see that everything was OK. All I knew was that he couldn't answer his phone, and that noone was in sight- and it's a weekend, so the hospital is a ghost town. So, I hysterically call and call and call. Finally Mauri answers in an annoyed. "¿Qué pasa?" I explain my hysteria, and he explains that they were all with him trying to move him to a chair because his head hurt from being in the bed for so long without a break from it. He said that he was going to eat, and that then they would let me in. ("but it's 1:30 already, will they kick me out on time? (after yesterday, you wonder)") He said they would let me stay a bit longer afterwards.
So, I wasfinally let in, and had a great conversation with him, finally able to talk to him semi-privately (as privately as you can on a walkie talkie through a window- with workers around on his side who can hear). He was reliving his experience from the day he was burnt (something he wouldn't have done with his mother around), and told me his realization that if he had lost consciousness, that I would be a widow right now. No one found him until 15 minutes after the boat started to burn, and then who would have tried to revive his charred body? He had gone back to the kitchen of the boat(the fire went towards the air, so he couldn't escape out the back), and was able to break the window there to get some air. I hadn't realized that he had been trapped inside with the flames on the boat for so long, so now I understood why he still coughs up black. I explained to him, that I never knew how bad the situation was, because no one had wanted to scare me, and they had told me that he had been "burnt a little." An urgency outside made everyone forget about the one visitor at the burn unit, so it wasn't until a man came and turned off the lights, and closed the door, that I decided I should leave. (I could have probably gotten away with hiding in there until night, but...) I looked in to the entrance of the burn unit (the doors are normally closed, but they were open) to say thank you to the woman who let me stay late, and I hear from behind me a tense "¿Qué hace Ud. allí?"
I think he was just surprised to see someone still here. I explained that I was leaving from the visit, and that I just wanted to thank the other woman, and he calmed down. (No, I wasn't trying to sneak in, even though I have thought about it many a time)
After a huge doner kebab in the park, and about an hour in the crowded, Saturday mall, I got a message on my phone. It was from Mauri! I still can't explain how he sent the message with his bandaged hands.
I called him and told him I would head for the hospital park so that I could talk to him on the walkie talkies. I was there talking to him until the entire family arrived. Today it was Pepe and Pepita, José and his daughter, Noa. So, with my little, crazy niece in hand, I headed for the night visit.
I guess this has become my journal, so for those who just want the info. on how Mauri was today, here's the summary:
His headache was probably due to the fact that he has a fever. Sitting up, though, helped him feel better. Unfortunately, his legs can't fully bend, due to the lack of skin on them and the tight bandages, so can't lean forward. This means that he has to rest against his back, something that he shouldn't be doing for long periods of time.
They transfused more blood today, too.
Mauri's main complaint today:
he was frustrated that after our evening visit, they were going to bandage his face because the burns there are worse than what they originally thought. For him that is just one more thing that will annoy him and make him feel hotter. In his mind, things aren't progressing as quickly as he would like them too, and for him, it makes it seem like things aren't improving, and they're even getting slightly worse.
Anyways, today was a bit better day. Partly because going alone in the morning allowed me some alone time. I'm not used to having someone with me constantly 20 hours a day. There's very few people that I could happily spend that much time with, and I must admit that my mother-in-law isn't at the top of that list right now. Don't get me wrong, she's a great person, but she's also a very nervous person who can't sit still. I'm nervous enough already right now, so the constant pacing, moving of the legs, and opening and closing of her fan does start to wear at the little patience I have left.
Anyways, today I caught the 9:30 (should be called 10:00) bus, and arrived a little before noon. I relaxed for awhile in the sun at the park, and then headed towards the hospital at around 1:00. Knowing that Mauri wasn't scheduled for any morning curing sessions, I started to call him on the walkie talkie. I entered the clinic, and found no one. Mauri didn't answer, so I started to call him on the phone. He didn't answer it either. So, I started to get nervous. You can't go in, so I couldn't go to see that everything was OK. All I knew was that he couldn't answer his phone, and that noone was in sight- and it's a weekend, so the hospital is a ghost town. So, I hysterically call and call and call. Finally Mauri answers in an annoyed. "¿Qué pasa?" I explain my hysteria, and he explains that they were all with him trying to move him to a chair because his head hurt from being in the bed for so long without a break from it. He said that he was going to eat, and that then they would let me in. ("but it's 1:30 already, will they kick me out on time? (after yesterday, you wonder)") He said they would let me stay a bit longer afterwards.
So, I wasfinally let in, and had a great conversation with him, finally able to talk to him semi-privately (as privately as you can on a walkie talkie through a window- with workers around on his side who can hear). He was reliving his experience from the day he was burnt (something he wouldn't have done with his mother around), and told me his realization that if he had lost consciousness, that I would be a widow right now. No one found him until 15 minutes after the boat started to burn, and then who would have tried to revive his charred body? He had gone back to the kitchen of the boat(the fire went towards the air, so he couldn't escape out the back), and was able to break the window there to get some air. I hadn't realized that he had been trapped inside with the flames on the boat for so long, so now I understood why he still coughs up black. I explained to him, that I never knew how bad the situation was, because no one had wanted to scare me, and they had told me that he had been "burnt a little." An urgency outside made everyone forget about the one visitor at the burn unit, so it wasn't until a man came and turned off the lights, and closed the door, that I decided I should leave. (I could have probably gotten away with hiding in there until night, but...) I looked in to the entrance of the burn unit (the doors are normally closed, but they were open) to say thank you to the woman who let me stay late, and I hear from behind me a tense "¿Qué hace Ud. allí?"
I think he was just surprised to see someone still here. I explained that I was leaving from the visit, and that I just wanted to thank the other woman, and he calmed down. (No, I wasn't trying to sneak in, even though I have thought about it many a time)
After a huge doner kebab in the park, and about an hour in the crowded, Saturday mall, I got a message on my phone. It was from Mauri! I still can't explain how he sent the message with his bandaged hands.
I called him and told him I would head for the hospital park so that I could talk to him on the walkie talkies. I was there talking to him until the entire family arrived. Today it was Pepe and Pepita, José and his daughter, Noa. So, with my little, crazy niece in hand, I headed for the night visit.
I guess this has become my journal, so for those who just want the info. on how Mauri was today, here's the summary:
His headache was probably due to the fact that he has a fever. Sitting up, though, helped him feel better. Unfortunately, his legs can't fully bend, due to the lack of skin on them and the tight bandages, so can't lean forward. This means that he has to rest against his back, something that he shouldn't be doing for long periods of time.
They transfused more blood today, too.
Mauri's main complaint today:
he was frustrated that after our evening visit, they were going to bandage his face because the burns there are worse than what they originally thought. For him that is just one more thing that will annoy him and make him feel hotter. In his mind, things aren't progressing as quickly as he would like them too, and for him, it makes it seem like things aren't improving, and they're even getting slightly worse.
viernes, 6 de junio de 2008
my breaking point
I have to admit that today I am both emotionally and physically exhausted. I try to do too much at night, and don't get to bed until way too late. Then I wake up early to go back to Valencia again. At first I thought I was getting accustomed to my new routine of five hours (at most) of sleep at night, but I guess I was wrong. Today I hit my breaking point.
For the first visit today, we arrived a little bit early as usual- just in case someone nice is out front to let us in a bit early. Unfortunately, today there were urgencies and nobody was around to either let us in nor inform us of anything. The entire intensive care part of the burn unit was completely empty of doctors and nurses. We had been there since 1:00 for the 1:30 visit, and when 1:45 rolled around, I finally started to get nervous. One thing that you have to get used to here is the constant lack of information. Only one person can tell you anything- Mauri's main doctor, and he is rarely around.
At about 1:50, someone finally came, and I was already quite upset. (You worry that something bad might have happened during the cleaning session with sedation). We have to catch a very early bus (tomorrow I have to leave at 9:30 to make sure I'm there by 1:30), so I expect to be able to visit him then. Whe they let me go in, I ran to Mauri's window, but the blinds were still shut. When they finally opened the blinds, I could tell that Mauri was very upset. He complained about the harsh treatment by the workers, and once again told me several acts on their part that once again made me come to the realization that I am helpless. They can do whatever they want to him, and I am unable to defend him. I will not share the details in the interest of preserving his privacy, but I will say that it was enough to upset me. We had been in the hallway for less than a minute, when they told us we would have to leave again. The special bed that he's in has been broken for awhile, but today it was blowing porcelain particles all over the place. Of course, they decided to wait until lifting him into the bed to decide to try to fix it. So, they said they'd have to move him again. I can't even begin to describe the look on his face. He was in pain, and was upset that they were going to move him again because he says that every time they move him- they pay no attention to where he is sorest, and push and pull him around as if he were an object. They don't try to slowly move him to try to ease his discomfort.
We were finally able to go back in and see him, but ended up only being able to be there for about half an hour. After having to leave, we waited another hour or so outside to be able to talk to the doctor (the weekend is coming up, and no one is around to help on the weekend, you know). The doctor said that everything looks good. They will transfuse more blood and will likely do the next operation on Monday as planned. He also said that Mauri will be able to start moving his right hand over the next couple of days, despite the grafted skin on it.
I was pretty upset after seeing Mauri the way I saw them (I have never seen him so upset as today in all of my life), and when I arrived to the evening visit, I was already near my breaking point.
Of course, they let us in 10 minutes late. We ran in as quickly as possible. Mauri looked a bit better, and despite the "turno" of 2 nurses with "bad milk," he seemed to be doing fine. He was just happy to see us. The nice visit came to an early end, as the woman at the front with an ego trip made us leave on time. So, yes she was very punctual with kicking us out, despite her lack of punctuality when letting us in. By that point I was so furious that I couldn't help grumbling a "so today we couldn't even have a full hour at one of the visits."
She was very happy to tell us that these were the rules here and that that was the way it goes. I said that if I can't even go in and see him, the least they could do was to allow me to have my full hour visit. She then responded that of course I couldn't go in- because that was better for him- to protect Mauri from any infections. Of course infuriated (I have a hard time biting my tongue when I get to this point), I responded that if it were really for the sake of infection control, it seemed like there should be rules for everyone, because it makes no sense to me that those that work here can go out and smoke every hour in their scrubs and then walk back in and touch Mauri with their bare hands, without putting anything over their scrubs nor putting on gloves nor pulling their hair back!!! To me that seems much more dangerous for him that it is to let me in with my hair pulled back, a gown and gloves on. She of course couldn't comprehend the logic, so I mentioned something I shouldn't have: when unwrapped for a cleaning session, a woman did an electrocardiogram on Mauri in street clothes. The other workers told her to put a gown on, but she refused. Of course, the only way I could have known this is if he told me. He didn't want me to say anything because he's scared of what they'll do to him. He has no way of defending himself- nor do I of protecting him. She obviously didn't think that that was a big deal, though, and said that I should go complain if it bothers me that much, but that they only do what the rules tell them.
I left the hospital tonight, mad at the people who work there, mad at myself for not being able to keep quiet, and just generally mad.
On the brighter side, I can start to appreciate the fact that the hospital shuts down on the weekend: the next 2 days they won't do the curas (cleanings). (That would entitle working on a weekend.) So, Mauri will have a little bit of a break from the extreme pain they cause. Just knowing that makes me happier.
For the first visit today, we arrived a little bit early as usual- just in case someone nice is out front to let us in a bit early. Unfortunately, today there were urgencies and nobody was around to either let us in nor inform us of anything. The entire intensive care part of the burn unit was completely empty of doctors and nurses. We had been there since 1:00 for the 1:30 visit, and when 1:45 rolled around, I finally started to get nervous. One thing that you have to get used to here is the constant lack of information. Only one person can tell you anything- Mauri's main doctor, and he is rarely around.
At about 1:50, someone finally came, and I was already quite upset. (You worry that something bad might have happened during the cleaning session with sedation). We have to catch a very early bus (tomorrow I have to leave at 9:30 to make sure I'm there by 1:30), so I expect to be able to visit him then. Whe they let me go in, I ran to Mauri's window, but the blinds were still shut. When they finally opened the blinds, I could tell that Mauri was very upset. He complained about the harsh treatment by the workers, and once again told me several acts on their part that once again made me come to the realization that I am helpless. They can do whatever they want to him, and I am unable to defend him. I will not share the details in the interest of preserving his privacy, but I will say that it was enough to upset me. We had been in the hallway for less than a minute, when they told us we would have to leave again. The special bed that he's in has been broken for awhile, but today it was blowing porcelain particles all over the place. Of course, they decided to wait until lifting him into the bed to decide to try to fix it. So, they said they'd have to move him again. I can't even begin to describe the look on his face. He was in pain, and was upset that they were going to move him again because he says that every time they move him- they pay no attention to where he is sorest, and push and pull him around as if he were an object. They don't try to slowly move him to try to ease his discomfort.
We were finally able to go back in and see him, but ended up only being able to be there for about half an hour. After having to leave, we waited another hour or so outside to be able to talk to the doctor (the weekend is coming up, and no one is around to help on the weekend, you know). The doctor said that everything looks good. They will transfuse more blood and will likely do the next operation on Monday as planned. He also said that Mauri will be able to start moving his right hand over the next couple of days, despite the grafted skin on it.
I was pretty upset after seeing Mauri the way I saw them (I have never seen him so upset as today in all of my life), and when I arrived to the evening visit, I was already near my breaking point.
Of course, they let us in 10 minutes late. We ran in as quickly as possible. Mauri looked a bit better, and despite the "turno" of 2 nurses with "bad milk," he seemed to be doing fine. He was just happy to see us. The nice visit came to an early end, as the woman at the front with an ego trip made us leave on time. So, yes she was very punctual with kicking us out, despite her lack of punctuality when letting us in. By that point I was so furious that I couldn't help grumbling a "so today we couldn't even have a full hour at one of the visits."
She was very happy to tell us that these were the rules here and that that was the way it goes. I said that if I can't even go in and see him, the least they could do was to allow me to have my full hour visit. She then responded that of course I couldn't go in- because that was better for him- to protect Mauri from any infections. Of course infuriated (I have a hard time biting my tongue when I get to this point), I responded that if it were really for the sake of infection control, it seemed like there should be rules for everyone, because it makes no sense to me that those that work here can go out and smoke every hour in their scrubs and then walk back in and touch Mauri with their bare hands, without putting anything over their scrubs nor putting on gloves nor pulling their hair back!!! To me that seems much more dangerous for him that it is to let me in with my hair pulled back, a gown and gloves on. She of course couldn't comprehend the logic, so I mentioned something I shouldn't have: when unwrapped for a cleaning session, a woman did an electrocardiogram on Mauri in street clothes. The other workers told her to put a gown on, but she refused. Of course, the only way I could have known this is if he told me. He didn't want me to say anything because he's scared of what they'll do to him. He has no way of defending himself- nor do I of protecting him. She obviously didn't think that that was a big deal, though, and said that I should go complain if it bothers me that much, but that they only do what the rules tell them.
I left the hospital tonight, mad at the people who work there, mad at myself for not being able to keep quiet, and just generally mad.
On the brighter side, I can start to appreciate the fact that the hospital shuts down on the weekend: the next 2 days they won't do the curas (cleanings). (That would entitle working on a weekend.) So, Mauri will have a little bit of a break from the extreme pain they cause. Just knowing that makes me happier.
jueves, 5 de junio de 2008
Someone is getting sick of being there
Well, luckily today they left Mauri mostly alone- no cleaning sessions or anything like that. They did do blood transfusions throughout the day.
We also cleared up what the plans are for him over the next couple of days. Tomorrow, Friday, they will do another cleaning session on all burnt areas except for his right arm (where he has the grafted skin). He will be allowed to rest over the weekend (when the hospital basically shuts down and is lacking doctors), and on Monday they will operate on his other arm and will try to also graft skin onto the right side of his torso if he doesn't bleed too much. If they are unable to graft the skin onto his torso, they will do another grafting operation next Friday. On Monday, when they operate, they will also take a look at his right arm to see how the grafts are doing.
Meanwhile, though, Mauri cannot sit up. He is confined to the special bed 24 hours a day, and is tired, hot, and frustrated. He didn't sleep at all last night, and is very bored and uncomfortable during the night. At least during the day, he sees people walking around, and that helps distract him- even though he says that noone really talks to him. At night, though, he can't keep the TV on (and even if he could, in the special bed he can't really see it anyways, and basically has to stare at the ceiling). So, despite the meds that they are constantly pumping into him, he was trying to stay awake all day today to see if he could finally sleep a few hours straight during a night. We'll find out tomorrow if he succeeded.
He's having a hard time having the patience to be where they have them- something that is very easy to understand. I'm having a hard time having the patience myself, and I only have to/can be there 2 hours a day.
I see that the people who work there complain about every little thing that they do, but they don't let me in to help out. As an example: today they had a blood pressure cuff on his left ankle area. On his right leg he has other monitors, and everywhere else he is bandaged so tightly that he cannot feel his legs or arms. (they broke 3 bandages trying to tighten them- if that gives you the idea- it needs to be tight to help assure that the skin grafts take). Anyways, even though they only take his bp every hour or so, they insisted on leaving the cuff on his leg. He complained that it bothered him- it scratched and just added to how hot he feels submerged in the bed, but it was just too much to ask for them to take the extra 10 seconds to take it off and 10 seconds to put it on again when they need to take bp. It wasn't worth that extra little bit of effort to try to lessen his discomfort. I can't understand their indifference. They treat him like an annoying plant that they have to water, and we can't be there to defend him. The logic of most of their rules and actions continues to baffle and frustrate me. He's constantly telling me who has "bad milk" (in English so that they don't get it) For me, it's the hardest part of this situation (no, it's not being in the bus 3 hours a day or sitting around waiting in the non-stop-since-may9 rain that falls EVERY afternoon). If only I could be there with him...
Today's picture shows the jail windows that we look through to talk to him. You can also see in the picture their stupid phones that don't work.
You can probably tell from the tone of the message that I'm annoyed.
How I LOVE socialized medicine.
miércoles, 4 de junio de 2008
A quick note to everyone-
Well, since I haven't gone to Valencia yet, I have no new news about Mauri. I just wanted to write a quick note to everyone who's reading this.
First of all, I think there may have been some confusion about Mauri's state. While they refuse to tell us that he will be OK (they say complications can arise at any time), they also say he is young and a very strong person, and that if he puts his mind to it, he should recover. They are monitoring daily with blood and urine analyses to make sure his kidneys will continue to function well. I am confident that he will get better, and that the doctors also believe that, but that they have to protect themselves by saying what they did about the complications. Yes, he does have serious burns, and burns can badly affect the body in ways that we can't fully understand, but he also has been lucky in some respects.
First of all, the most serious burns did not go below the waist nor did they reach his neck or above. We were told that the scar tissue is different (less flexible) than his skin, and that those are the most uncomfortable areas for scar tissue to form. (It would have pulled his head backwards...) I asked about sweat glands, and although there are areas where they will have been destroyed, his underarm area should be OK, so one of his main areas for being able to regulate body temperature in the future will be OK.
For those who know Mauri well enough, you will know that Mauri is always hot, and that he likes to workout a lot. So, that reassured me.
As anyone is his position would be, he is worried about what he will look like after he heals. His face, though, only has first degree burns- which has the effect of a peeling, really. Yes, people stare at burn victims afterwards, but the areas that he has most badly burnt can really be covered up in the future when he wants to. Some people have seemed critical of us even discussing this. Yes, this is secondary to his health, but I would have a hard time believing that not everyone in his position would be worried about it- I know I would- feel free to call me superficial. :)
Anyways, lastly I wanted to say that I am doing well.
Yes, I am sad at times, frustrated, annoyed easily. The situation does suck. (sorry of that offends anyone reading). No, it's not fun going to Valencia every single day with my mother-in-law, sitting around waiting to be able to talk to Mauri from behind a wall, through a window. I feel like he's in a jail or the zoo or something. I get frustrated because the bus schedule doesn't favor us, and we can't leave or arrive until late at night. So, I'm not home much and get little sleep trying to do as much as I can while I'm here (when I probably should be sleeping).
Having said that, I'm really OK. I won't lie- the first two days I didn't really eat or sleep, but I have since accepted the situation. Our lives have already been slightly put on hold, so I would like to try to enjoy the little free time that I have. Nobody should feel uncomfortable writing or talking to me. There's nothing anyone can really say to help the situation, nor should that have to be the only thing that I talk about- it already takes up most of my day. While Mauri's family hasn't wanted to go to dinners they were invited to, etc.- I see no need to go into "mourning." It doesn't make sense to me. There's too many things to be happy about. He is going through a rough phase right now, but is on his way to recovery. He didn't die in the fire, and has really been relatively lucky with where he burnt himself. So, yes you can write to me about fun stuff in your lives like you always have. This doesn't upset me, and is a good distraction. I don't expect everyone to be miserable just because of what happened- nor do I feel that I should have to be miserable. Mauri wouldn't/doesn't want that. It doesn't always have to be about what happened to Mauri. I already know that I have a lot of support. I love the notes of support- and there's a few that I really want to write back to and will when I get the chance- but you can be yourselves "around me" (even if that means on the internet :) )
Well, I have to run to catch the bus.
I will update tonight.
Thanks again to everyone- you know I love you all back-now have some fun!!!
(I bet you students feel more guilty than ever for having abandoned me jejeje)
First of all, I think there may have been some confusion about Mauri's state. While they refuse to tell us that he will be OK (they say complications can arise at any time), they also say he is young and a very strong person, and that if he puts his mind to it, he should recover. They are monitoring daily with blood and urine analyses to make sure his kidneys will continue to function well. I am confident that he will get better, and that the doctors also believe that, but that they have to protect themselves by saying what they did about the complications. Yes, he does have serious burns, and burns can badly affect the body in ways that we can't fully understand, but he also has been lucky in some respects.
First of all, the most serious burns did not go below the waist nor did they reach his neck or above. We were told that the scar tissue is different (less flexible) than his skin, and that those are the most uncomfortable areas for scar tissue to form. (It would have pulled his head backwards...) I asked about sweat glands, and although there are areas where they will have been destroyed, his underarm area should be OK, so one of his main areas for being able to regulate body temperature in the future will be OK.
For those who know Mauri well enough, you will know that Mauri is always hot, and that he likes to workout a lot. So, that reassured me.
As anyone is his position would be, he is worried about what he will look like after he heals. His face, though, only has first degree burns- which has the effect of a peeling, really. Yes, people stare at burn victims afterwards, but the areas that he has most badly burnt can really be covered up in the future when he wants to. Some people have seemed critical of us even discussing this. Yes, this is secondary to his health, but I would have a hard time believing that not everyone in his position would be worried about it- I know I would- feel free to call me superficial. :)
Anyways, lastly I wanted to say that I am doing well.
Yes, I am sad at times, frustrated, annoyed easily. The situation does suck. (sorry of that offends anyone reading). No, it's not fun going to Valencia every single day with my mother-in-law, sitting around waiting to be able to talk to Mauri from behind a wall, through a window. I feel like he's in a jail or the zoo or something. I get frustrated because the bus schedule doesn't favor us, and we can't leave or arrive until late at night. So, I'm not home much and get little sleep trying to do as much as I can while I'm here (when I probably should be sleeping).
Having said that, I'm really OK. I won't lie- the first two days I didn't really eat or sleep, but I have since accepted the situation. Our lives have already been slightly put on hold, so I would like to try to enjoy the little free time that I have. Nobody should feel uncomfortable writing or talking to me. There's nothing anyone can really say to help the situation, nor should that have to be the only thing that I talk about- it already takes up most of my day. While Mauri's family hasn't wanted to go to dinners they were invited to, etc.- I see no need to go into "mourning." It doesn't make sense to me. There's too many things to be happy about. He is going through a rough phase right now, but is on his way to recovery. He didn't die in the fire, and has really been relatively lucky with where he burnt himself. So, yes you can write to me about fun stuff in your lives like you always have. This doesn't upset me, and is a good distraction. I don't expect everyone to be miserable just because of what happened- nor do I feel that I should have to be miserable. Mauri wouldn't/doesn't want that. It doesn't always have to be about what happened to Mauri. I already know that I have a lot of support. I love the notes of support- and there's a few that I really want to write back to and will when I get the chance- but you can be yourselves "around me" (even if that means on the internet :) )
Well, I have to run to catch the bus.
I will update tonight.
Thanks again to everyone- you know I love you all back-now have some fun!!!
(I bet you students feel more guilty than ever for having abandoned me jejeje)
After the first operation
Well, we went at 1:00 as told, but Mauri was still in the OR. After a bit of a wait, the doctor came out to talk to us. He said that the operation went fine, but that they were only able to do the grafting on the right arm for fear of too much blood loss if they were to do both at the same time. The right arm is the most badly burnt, and because of the size of his arms, they had to remove skin from both legs to be able to obtain enough skin for the grafting. We weren't able to go see him at that visiting session, but at 6:30 PM we were.
When we went back, he was still a bit groggy. He was mostly half asleep while we were talking to him, but he didn't want us to leave. He was upset about something that had happened to one of the grafts. Worried, we talked to a doctor on call who told us that it wasn't a big deal, but that he had been bleeding, and that they had to remove a couple of staples on one of the grafts to clean out blood that had accumulated underneath. Then they wrapped him up again and brought him back to an air fluidized bed, where he will be for the next couple of days.
We had a bit of an argument over when the next operation will be. Between the three of us that were there when the doctor spoke with us, each understood differently. It will be either on Friday or on Monday. Either way, on Monday they will take the first real look at the grafts done today to see if the body has accepted them. On Friday, they will do another cleaning session of everything except for his right arm- which will be left to heal for 5 days without touching it. Meanwhile he can't really move that arm much, so he is frustrated that he can't do as much by himself as he could yesterday. That also kept him from being able to answer the phone, so I wasn't able to wish him a good night.
The next operation will include doing skin grafts on the left arm, and the right side of his torso. They are going to try to let his back heal on its own- this is also partly because of the size of his upper body. They have already needed to move to his second leg as donor site for enough skin for today's surgery- there wouldn't be enough skin to be able to use if they were to graft both arms and his side and back.
We don't think that they will do any cleaning sessions tomorrow, so he'll finally have a day that will be a short break from what they've been doing to him. That will hopefully allow for him to be more awake and to be able to talk to us more easily when we go tomorrow.
Just "for fun," I took a few pictures of the burn unit area of the hospital. The door is locked except for at visiting times. Mauri's window was right behind the red stairway. The last few nights, after they kicked me out- and when they didn't close the blinds on his window, I would sneak around and sit on the stairway and talk to him with the walkie talkies until he was ready to eat dinner. I could barely see him from there, but at least he could see me. They moved him today, though, down the hall so that he can be in the air fluidized bed. It may be a bit harder to see him there from outside, but I may try tomorrow.
The last picture is for those who can appreciate the irony of another of the many stupid Spanish hospital rules. (¿cesped?)
(Do I sound bitter?)
martes, 3 de junio de 2008
A quick update before going to bed:
Tomorrow Mauri will undergo the first of his operations. At 9:00AM they will take thin layers of skin from his legs and graft them to his right arm and hand, and part of his left arm. Depending upon how things go, they may do his next surgery next Monday in which they would do some more grafts. The fact that they have decided to do the surgery already is a good sign. It will also be much better for him because the cleaning sessions each day are very painful, and they cannot completely sedate him each day because the constant use of the medications would have serious effects on the liver. When I arrive for the first visit each morning, it is almost impossible to talk to him. He is still usually under the effects of the anesthetics, and in a lot of pain. My logic tells me that once they graft some skin, since all of the dead tissue will have been removed - and because they will have to be careful with the newly grafted skin- that the future cleaning sessions will be a lot less harsh. They are waiting to see what happens over the next few days- how his back responds- before they decide how much will need to be grafted there, and how much will regenerate on its own.
What's frustrating to me is that I cannot go in and see him- not even before he goes into surgery. I don't understand the logic- especially if it is supposedly due to infection control protocol. The nurses go outside and smoke in their scrubs and then go right back in- no pulling their hair back, washing of hands or gloves before going back to where Mauri is...
Since I don't see even a minimal amount of infection control being practiced by the nurses- it makes no sense to me that I can't even go in with a gown on.
Of course you'd think that I'd have grown accustomed to a typical hospital logic here by now (my favorite being that the hospital basically doesn't function on the weekend), but the health care provider side of me has a hard time accepting many of the things I see and hear about each day. Mauri is pretty frustrated too.
On a happier note, we were finally able to talk to a doctor that was willing to inform us about Mauri's status, and he said he would tell us more tomorrow after the operation. This was the first real update we'd had since Mauri arrived on Thursday- except for the minute and a half that a doctor talked to us yesterday. She, however, rushed an explanation, and didn't really answer any of our questions like today's doctor.
Well, tomorrow I will let you know how the operation goes.
besos
Tomorrow Mauri will undergo the first of his operations. At 9:00AM they will take thin layers of skin from his legs and graft them to his right arm and hand, and part of his left arm. Depending upon how things go, they may do his next surgery next Monday in which they would do some more grafts. The fact that they have decided to do the surgery already is a good sign. It will also be much better for him because the cleaning sessions each day are very painful, and they cannot completely sedate him each day because the constant use of the medications would have serious effects on the liver. When I arrive for the first visit each morning, it is almost impossible to talk to him. He is still usually under the effects of the anesthetics, and in a lot of pain. My logic tells me that once they graft some skin, since all of the dead tissue will have been removed - and because they will have to be careful with the newly grafted skin- that the future cleaning sessions will be a lot less harsh. They are waiting to see what happens over the next few days- how his back responds- before they decide how much will need to be grafted there, and how much will regenerate on its own.
What's frustrating to me is that I cannot go in and see him- not even before he goes into surgery. I don't understand the logic- especially if it is supposedly due to infection control protocol. The nurses go outside and smoke in their scrubs and then go right back in- no pulling their hair back, washing of hands or gloves before going back to where Mauri is...
Since I don't see even a minimal amount of infection control being practiced by the nurses- it makes no sense to me that I can't even go in with a gown on.
Of course you'd think that I'd have grown accustomed to a typical hospital logic here by now (my favorite being that the hospital basically doesn't function on the weekend), but the health care provider side of me has a hard time accepting many of the things I see and hear about each day. Mauri is pretty frustrated too.
On a happier note, we were finally able to talk to a doctor that was willing to inform us about Mauri's status, and he said he would tell us more tomorrow after the operation. This was the first real update we'd had since Mauri arrived on Thursday- except for the minute and a half that a doctor talked to us yesterday. She, however, rushed an explanation, and didn't really answer any of our questions like today's doctor.
Well, tomorrow I will let you know how the operation goes.
besos
lunes, 2 de junio de 2008
June 2 Facebook update
Well, here I am at home again. Unfortunately I'm not home long enough to be able to write to everyone, so I'll just say thank you to everyone at once. I leave early in the morning and don't get back home until around 11:00 at night, so if I want to sleep, I can't be at the computer for long.
As people have requested that I keep updating here, I will. I have to admit, though, that it's not in my nature to want to give updates when I'm not happy with what I'm going to write. Today I didn't really want to write anything to not worry anyone.
Today we had our first actual update by a doctor. As most of you know, the health system here in Spain is much different than what you are accustomed to. One of those differences is that information for family members is scarce and difficult to some by. Also, on weekends, the hospitals basically shut down, and no information is given. So, any information I had was only what Mauri and other patients' families told me...
...The doctor didn't really tell us anything new except that she was disappointed in the evolution of his case. Originally it was thought that they might not have to do grafting operations on Mauri's back- and only on his arms and hands, but now it doesn't look so good. Up until now they had been cleaning off the dead tissue every two days, but they will try doing it every day now to see what happens. They may decide to do the first operation on either Wednesday or Friday. She couldn't tell me, though, exactly what type of operation- if they would go directly to using grafts of his own skin or if they would use something else first. She did say he was very lucky to have his legs unburned because they have a lot of choice of healthy skin for use in grafting.
She also couldn't assure me that all would be well with his lungs/kidneys, but she assured me that they are constantly monitoring everything to try to keep him safe.
What she had to tell us made me a bit uneasy, but...
...I was looking forward to seeing Mauri. When I got to the window, though, I realized that he wasn't well. They had recently finished cleaning off the dead tissue and he was still in pain, and a bit groggy from the meds. So he couldn't talk much, and we basically just looked at each other through the window. What worried me, though, was that his morale was down because he'd heard that it was likely they'd have to do more grafts than what was originally expected. Plus, he'd seen a bit of a reflection of himself in a window, and definitely wasn't happy with what he saw.
In the afternoon, he still wasn't able to sit up, but he was able to talk better, and was able to appreciate the new toys I brought him: walkie talkies so that we could actually hear each other (the phone system through the window of the hospital doesn't really work well), and a cell phone so that I could call him and wish him a good night.
That seemed to lift his spirits a bit...
...I called to say goodnight and he seemed a bit happier, and said that he was sitting up in the bed. He was also joking a bit more again, so I feel a bit better again.
It's frustrating for me because I feel helpless, and I see how frustrated he is with his situation. I know he's in pain, and that he's worried about a lot of things that he shouldn't have to worry about. Unfortunately this a slow process.
Well, I'm off to get some sleep.
Thanks again for your best wishes and prayers.
I'll keep updating as I can...
As people have requested that I keep updating here, I will. I have to admit, though, that it's not in my nature to want to give updates when I'm not happy with what I'm going to write. Today I didn't really want to write anything to not worry anyone.
Today we had our first actual update by a doctor. As most of you know, the health system here in Spain is much different than what you are accustomed to. One of those differences is that information for family members is scarce and difficult to some by. Also, on weekends, the hospitals basically shut down, and no information is given. So, any information I had was only what Mauri and other patients' families told me...
...The doctor didn't really tell us anything new except that she was disappointed in the evolution of his case. Originally it was thought that they might not have to do grafting operations on Mauri's back- and only on his arms and hands, but now it doesn't look so good. Up until now they had been cleaning off the dead tissue every two days, but they will try doing it every day now to see what happens. They may decide to do the first operation on either Wednesday or Friday. She couldn't tell me, though, exactly what type of operation- if they would go directly to using grafts of his own skin or if they would use something else first. She did say he was very lucky to have his legs unburned because they have a lot of choice of healthy skin for use in grafting.
She also couldn't assure me that all would be well with his lungs/kidneys, but she assured me that they are constantly monitoring everything to try to keep him safe.
What she had to tell us made me a bit uneasy, but...
...I was looking forward to seeing Mauri. When I got to the window, though, I realized that he wasn't well. They had recently finished cleaning off the dead tissue and he was still in pain, and a bit groggy from the meds. So he couldn't talk much, and we basically just looked at each other through the window. What worried me, though, was that his morale was down because he'd heard that it was likely they'd have to do more grafts than what was originally expected. Plus, he'd seen a bit of a reflection of himself in a window, and definitely wasn't happy with what he saw.
In the afternoon, he still wasn't able to sit up, but he was able to talk better, and was able to appreciate the new toys I brought him: walkie talkies so that we could actually hear each other (the phone system through the window of the hospital doesn't really work well), and a cell phone so that I could call him and wish him a good night.
That seemed to lift his spirits a bit...
...I called to say goodnight and he seemed a bit happier, and said that he was sitting up in the bed. He was also joking a bit more again, so I feel a bit better again.
It's frustrating for me because I feel helpless, and I see how frustrated he is with his situation. I know he's in pain, and that he's worried about a lot of things that he shouldn't have to worry about. Unfortunately this a slow process.
Well, I'm off to get some sleep.
Thanks again for your best wishes and prayers.
I'll keep updating as I can...
May 31 facebook update
I don't have time to write everyone individually right now, so I'll do something that I hate- and send a mass thank you to everyone who has written me.
Some of you know what actually happened, but most will not. At the time I wrote here last, noone had wanted to scare me, so I hadn't been told what really happened.
Thursday on the boat, an oil tube on the auxiliary motor of the boat came loose, sending oil to the hot turbo which caused a flash fire that was propelled up to the deck by the ventilation systems. Mauri was nearby the windows that look down at the engine and was caught in the explosion, burning basically everything from the waist up- 2º and 3º burns. He was flown to a hospital in Valencia by helicopter, and is now in their intensive care burn unit- where he will remain for several weeks. While he is there, I can visit him for two 1 hour periods a day, talking to him over a phone, looking through a window...
...(cont.) Once they move him to a regular bedroom (in a few weeks, after several planned surgeries), I will be able to spend time with him, but he will likely be hospitalized for several months. So, I won't be in Denia much for awhile- or at the computer- (it's not that I want to abandon anyone.)
Having said all of that, there is a lot of good news.
He was sitting up today, has been fully conscious at all times, and does seem to be out of any real danger. He seems to be a bit happier, and was able to eat for the first time today. Knowing that he's a bit better, made me feel much better, so I was finally able to eat and sleep, and am a lot happier now too. So, we will both be fine- so noone has to really worry about either of us. I will know more on monday and will update when I can. Thanks again to everyone... besos
Some of you know what actually happened, but most will not. At the time I wrote here last, noone had wanted to scare me, so I hadn't been told what really happened.
Thursday on the boat, an oil tube on the auxiliary motor of the boat came loose, sending oil to the hot turbo which caused a flash fire that was propelled up to the deck by the ventilation systems. Mauri was nearby the windows that look down at the engine and was caught in the explosion, burning basically everything from the waist up- 2º and 3º burns. He was flown to a hospital in Valencia by helicopter, and is now in their intensive care burn unit- where he will remain for several weeks. While he is there, I can visit him for two 1 hour periods a day, talking to him over a phone, looking through a window...
...(cont.) Once they move him to a regular bedroom (in a few weeks, after several planned surgeries), I will be able to spend time with him, but he will likely be hospitalized for several months. So, I won't be in Denia much for awhile- or at the computer- (it's not that I want to abandon anyone.)
Having said all of that, there is a lot of good news.
He was sitting up today, has been fully conscious at all times, and does seem to be out of any real danger. He seems to be a bit happier, and was able to eat for the first time today. Knowing that he's a bit better, made me feel much better, so I was finally able to eat and sleep, and am a lot happier now too. So, we will both be fine- so noone has to really worry about either of us. I will know more on monday and will update when I can. Thanks again to everyone... besos
I have decided to blog!!
Well , I decided that Facebook was getting depressing with my updates, and I think Facebook should be a fun place. Plus, the wall wasn't exactly the most convenient place to update because of the character limit of each entry on the wall. My updates ended up all being backwards.
So, I'll copy them here, and from now on my updates will be blogged. Keep Facebook a fun place. I still need some fun too. :)
So, I'll copy them here, and from now on my updates will be blogged. Keep Facebook a fun place. I still need some fun too. :)
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