Ha ha-
I guess now our countdown seems even more pointless than it did the last time I wrote. Actually, I really had to count to figure out where I was in the countdown anymore.
Why is it so pointless, you ask??
Well, because Mauri is home and has been for several days now.
I'm sorry to have abandoned you all here, but the last few days I've been trying to settle back into the house, take care of Mauri and concentrate on the many visits we've had at our house. I've also been trying to catch up on my emailing, and have read most of the 1000+ gmail conversations that had accumulated in my inbox, although I haven't really responded to many.
Mostly, this is a happy message.
Last Thursday, they officially gave Mauri the "alta hospitalaria." It was a great surprise, when they allowed him to go home, as we had expected him to move to a regular room before going home. That never happened, though, and he went directly from the ICU back home.
He was still mostly bandaged up, except for his arms and hands, where I liberally apply lotion several times daily to help restore movement.
It's been a bit of an emotional roller coaster, though.
We've greatly enjoyed the time at home. Sadly, though, last Friday, the day after he got the "alta," one of Mauri's uncles passed away, and he was pretty upset about not being able to go see him before it happened. Overall, though, the last few days have given us something that we hadn't had in a long time: the opportunity to be together, to be at home, and to relax.
So, you may wonder how Mauri is actually doing. Overall, he has greatly improved. After more than a month of inactivity, though, he is frustrated at his inability to do everything that he would like to be able to do. Another thing that contributes to his frustration is that the areas that are healing contract more and more each day, and they lack the elasticity of normal skin. So, he has to do stretching exercises every day to try to improve mobility, and to keep from losing more.
The first couple of days home, it was hard for him to get up and walk due to the pain in his right lower leg, the donor site for the last grafting surgery. Since then, though, the pain has greatly improved. It is still difficult for him to sleep at night, as he can't find a position that doesn't put pressure on the healing areas.
Today, we returned to Valencia, and they took off all of his bandages, allowing him to shower at home for the first time. He is much more comfortable without all of the bandages, and it allows me to apply lotions as needed, and to be able to rub his back, which is still peeling and very itchy.
The doctors explained that they were astonished at the way that his back had healed. Not only did they not originally expect most of it to heal on its own (without grafts), but the rate at which it healed was unbelievable for them. They said that overall he is doing incredibly well considering how badly he was burnt.
They have taken his measurements for a pressure garment, something that he will have to wear 24 hours a day (minus the time for bathing and washing the garment) for a full year. (Not something that he looks forward to).
From now on, he still looks forward to a long healing process, but it is a bit better now that he can heal at home. Little by little he can do more activities, and life is progressively getting closer to normal.
At least we don't have to go back to Valencia until the 22nd of July.
I will keep updating here, but admit that it will be much less often now that there will be less to tell.
Lastly, I want to thank everybody for the support that they have shown Mauri and I. We both greatly appreciate it.
Buenas noches.
martes, 8 de julio de 2008
jueves, 26 de junio de 2008
28 days down... 27 days left...
... 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...
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...
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.
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