Michael went to the doctor yesterday to have his fourteen staples removed (I don’t know why, shortly after his surgery, I thought he only had eight). Monday marked two weeks since his surgery, and I have to say that his recovery has been very slow going. He seems to be having a much more difficult time rebounding this time than he did from his big cancer surgery almost two years ago. Both doctors he saw yesterday – the doctor who performed his surgery two weeks ago, and his oncologist for a regular post-cancer checkup – said that he is still suffering the effects of sepsis, and that’s why he is having such a difficult time recovering. Do you know what sepsis is? I had a vague idea, until I started researching it: SEPSIS. That’s some very scary shit. Extremely serious. Life threatening.
It is still very difficult to wrap my head around the fact that in the hospital – a place one goes to trusting they will be taken care of and that every measure will be taken to preserve life and health – he was allowed to deteriorate to the point of sepsis, mainly due to what appears to have been inattentiveness. It was a Sunday. There was no doctor on the premises for that department, and for whatever reason, the doctor on call was not available. Michael knew something was terribly wrong on Sunday as he lay in the hospital bed, and he kept asking to see a doctor. I went to the hospital to see him Sunday afternoon and was very unsettled by the condition he was in, and I went to the nurse’s station and asked when he would see a doctor, and nobody seemed to know anything. I was told that the doctor had been paged and was expected to be in at some unknown time to make rounds. The nurses just increased Michael’s pain meds, and the doctor didn’t get to him until early Monday morning, and by then he was already septic and in dire straights. Had his condition been taken more seriously on Sunday, had a doctor seen him and done surgery sooner, it could have been a less dramatic surgery, and certainly his recovery would not be so difficult now.
And the whole family has naturally been impacted. Daisy is an emotional wreck – needing constant hugs, not wanting to separate from us, breaking down in tears over everything. The other kids are acting out emotionally and behaviorally. I’m wiped out. Michael is here, but sort of not here. He’s tired all the time and sleeps A LOT. I’m trying to meet everyone’s needs and take care of mostly everything, and I admit it – I find myself feeling resentful at times. And tired. And emotional.
Such an ordeal for everyone, and one that could have been minimized.
It’s hard not to let my mind run away and imagine the what ifs – what if they had let him go for another hour or two? What if he had died? It was such a close call.
But he didn’t die, they did catch it in time, and for that I’m grateful.
But still angry.