The Progeny
Get Me Outta Here!
Two major appointments, today.
We arrived early for the CytoGam infusion, and proceeded to wait an hour in the lobby. So much for getting a jump on the day. A nurse mentioned they were "backed up." I assume this did not refer to the plumbing. The (4 hour) procedure was fairly routine and the IV stick wasn't too terrible. Loren will need another infusion each month to complete the first year from transplant.
The other item scheduled was a stress test. One was done during the initial week of evaluation back in February, and now another, after transplant, to measure his stamina and general ability to process ogygen.
It takes place on a treadmill, with Loren hooked up to EKG, blood pressure cuff, and ogygen mask. (There may have also been a connection to the Borg Mother Ship, but I wasn't in the room at the time, so I can't be sure.)
They start him out slow and increase the speed and incline over a period of 10-15 minutes. A little chart is used to gauge the difficulty the patient experiences. 1 stands for "no problem," and 20 stands for "Call the EMT's. STAT!" Loren was taken up to about 18, which he said was quite taxing. We shall find out the results when we see the docs one more time, tomorrow afternoon. One thing the tech did mention was that transplant patients usually have a somewhat erratic pattern to their EKG's during this test, but Loren's looked rather "normal." Imagine that. Loren being "normal" :-)
Throughout the course of the day we also experienced:
-losing my watch. It fell off my arm at some undetermined moment in time. (Not a "frozen moment in time," or I would have remembered) I consider this a Providential sign to buy a new cheapo watch from WalMart.
-heard those chilling words over the address system. "Code 45, *****Building, Room ****"
"Code 45" means someone has collapsed, somewhere. There are people stationed on different floors throughout the Mayo complex (and St. Mary's Hospital) whose main responsibility is to repond to these emergencies. I literally had to flatten myself against the wall one day (and glad I was to do it) as doctors ran by pushing crash carts toward a victim. I will be glad to get home and not hear that again. I would be glad to NEVER hear that again.
-had unusually bad lunch at the cafeteria. But considering the above, I guess one shouldn't complain.
-read through most of Chekhov's play, "The Three Sisters." Half the time was spent reading, and half glancing back at the character list to keep the Russian names straight.
-back in the room, I packed up about as much as one can, at this point. Can't WAIT to get home.
-the faculty from a local school brought in supper for The House. It was fairly good, though Loren's chicken was not cooked all the way through. Not the kind of thing one should serve to the immunosuppressed, but how can you complain when people are trying to be nice?
-snuck ice cream up to the room, later. Who would have thought I'd have turned to a life of crime?
(Did I mention I can't wait to go home?)
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We arrived early for the CytoGam infusion, and proceeded to wait an hour in the lobby. So much for getting a jump on the day. A nurse mentioned they were "backed up." I assume this did not refer to the plumbing. The (4 hour) procedure was fairly routine and the IV stick wasn't too terrible. Loren will need another infusion each month to complete the first year from transplant.
The other item scheduled was a stress test. One was done during the initial week of evaluation back in February, and now another, after transplant, to measure his stamina and general ability to process ogygen.
It takes place on a treadmill, with Loren hooked up to EKG, blood pressure cuff, and ogygen mask. (There may have also been a connection to the Borg Mother Ship, but I wasn't in the room at the time, so I can't be sure.)
They start him out slow and increase the speed and incline over a period of 10-15 minutes. A little chart is used to gauge the difficulty the patient experiences. 1 stands for "no problem," and 20 stands for "Call the EMT's. STAT!" Loren was taken up to about 18, which he said was quite taxing. We shall find out the results when we see the docs one more time, tomorrow afternoon. One thing the tech did mention was that transplant patients usually have a somewhat erratic pattern to their EKG's during this test, but Loren's looked rather "normal." Imagine that. Loren being "normal" :-)
Throughout the course of the day we also experienced:
-losing my watch. It fell off my arm at some undetermined moment in time. (Not a "frozen moment in time," or I would have remembered) I consider this a Providential sign to buy a new cheapo watch from WalMart.
-heard those chilling words over the address system. "Code 45, *****Building, Room ****"
"Code 45" means someone has collapsed, somewhere. There are people stationed on different floors throughout the Mayo complex (and St. Mary's Hospital) whose main responsibility is to repond to these emergencies. I literally had to flatten myself against the wall one day (and glad I was to do it) as doctors ran by pushing crash carts toward a victim. I will be glad to get home and not hear that again. I would be glad to NEVER hear that again.
-had unusually bad lunch at the cafeteria. But considering the above, I guess one shouldn't complain.
-read through most of Chekhov's play, "The Three Sisters." Half the time was spent reading, and half glancing back at the character list to keep the Russian names straight.
-back in the room, I packed up about as much as one can, at this point. Can't WAIT to get home.
-the faculty from a local school brought in supper for The House. It was fairly good, though Loren's chicken was not cooked all the way through. Not the kind of thing one should serve to the immunosuppressed, but how can you complain when people are trying to be nice?
-snuck ice cream up to the room, later. Who would have thought I'd have turned to a life of crime?
(Did I mention I can't wait to go home?)
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posted by Ma Hoyt | 9:59 PM
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