ICU. Telemetry. ICU. Telemetry. ICU...

Three weeks and counting and that’s pretty much how it could all be summed up. We’re in the ICU, no we’re in telemetry. Three weeks and counting since the EYOC took the trip to the hospital.

It’s really amazing. There are times I’m sorry for bringing him to the hospital. Remembering how afraid he was before the journey, how terrified and trapped he felt - go to the hospital or just hope whatever is bothering him just goes away. Man, I tell you, wherever there is an opening on your body, once you’re in the hospital they find a way to put something in it. There are good days and there are bad days but, there are more days which there wouldn’t have been without the trip.

One day I go and EYOC can barely talk or move. He doesn’t seem to even be aware of where he’s at. Then. I get a surprise towards the end of last week when my sister calls and tells me EYOC will be discharged in the coming week!?!? Since I had been the day before, I was somewhat dumbstruck by the announcement. How can you release someone so very seriously ill? The next day I go down and EYOC looks better than he has in weeks. He’s awake. He appears to have his wits about him. He moves (albeit very slowly). The difference in his condition from my previous visit only 48 hours before is remarkable! I can hardly believe it, it’s as if a higher power has come down and breathed life back into his lungs again.

Afterward, I sit in the cafeteria with my sister, amazed and relieved at the change in his condition. Just glad to see him regaining some of his strength and beginning the progression back to normalcy.

Then the next day I get the phone call from the cardiologist that the EYOC has been shuttled back to the ICU after an unexplainable drop in both blood pressure and blood sugar - I imagine next week’s release date was a little too optimistic. So, I just keep puttering away. It’s this strange limbo not knowing what will happen and not being able to plan because it really depends on someone’s health. EYOC will be 82 next week and I can’t imagine he’ll be happy celebrating in the hospital. Ah, if only they’d let me bring the kitty for a visit.