I’ll have to go back and finish up the happenings of Sunday. That’s the day DD and I visit. Despite my squeaky voice, that’s what we did on March 1.
It was like playing phone tag, to begin with. She’d call and here would come a breathing treatment. She’d call and it would be time to check my vitals. She’d call and I’d have visitors. Finally, I set a time and we were able to stick to it.
Our visit wasn’t very rewarding. Between my voice and coughing, we gave it up after less than half the time we usually talk.
Monday dawned with a visit from my doctor. Sure enough, it’s a visit that hasn’t shown up as being billed. I told him I had a question that required a second opinion from him. What’s that? Did he think I’d be able to fit the hospital bed into my car? He looked surprised. Did I want a hospital bed? Well, it sure beat having to chase wedges all over the place during the night. When I could sleep, I could SLEEP. He made a note. “I can get you a hospital bed.” “And a nebulizer,” I said. He went farther—would I use oxygen at home if I qualified? Yes, I reluctantly agreed. It wasn’t something I dreamed about but I’d use it. “And a portable?” Yes.
The plan was to keep me another day to get all the DME lined up and give another day on IV antibiotics. Was I ready to go home? Psychologically, I could have gone ere long but not physically. The next day seemed more doable. We had a goal.
The physical therapy tech came in to walk me. It was a test to see if I qualified for O2 at home. We set out with me (sans O2) pushing a wheelchair and she was supporting me via a belt. I was wearing a pulse oximeter so my O2 saturation could be monitored. Some 70 feet down the hallway, it dropped to 85%. I qualified. She immediately hooked me up to the tank on the wheelchair and had me sit down. Wheeling me back to my room, she filled out the paperwork, hooked me back up to the supply on the wall and was on her way.
The case manager popped in to let me know she was working on getting the equipment. It would have to come from Chattanooga since it was out of area for the office in the county where the hospital is located. Of course, I always have to be the Problem Child. Except for a brief exploration of dealing in Durable Medical Equipment when I was still working, I had no experience with it.
Late in the day, I realized March 2, 1987 was my hire date at that very facility. If I were still employed, it would be 28 years. Well, it was 28 years, anyway and I was so glad I was retired.
I was getting rather excited that I would be going home the next day. Cuz had been busy. She said she’d done “a little” cleaning, including getting rid of science projects in the fridge. That was amazing, in and of itself. Would the commodes flush? Yes. The line had thawed. Glory hallelujah! Would I sleep that night?