It continued…

… with admission to the hospital.

AND everyone spoke to us in English. The doctor who admitted Henning gave us all the information we asked for, and then asked (often) if we had any more questions, and left us with the assurance that she was available if we thought of something to ask later.  She was being shadowed by a medical student, so for his sake as well as ours, she was very detailed and specific.

All the questions about the acute catheter vs. permanent catheter were answered. His fistula (as you likely remember) is still too young/weak to bear the pressure of dialysis. He has a consult next week, bu there is no way to know how long it will be before they can operate, or how long after that until the fistula is viable. Because the acute catheter is not a good option for long-term use, but also because we could not wait the three-plus weeks for the permanent catheter (different team, different surgery schedule), we all agreed for him to have the acute catheter placed as soon as possible (some time that night), and still be placed on the schedule for the permanent catheter. More surgery, but also immediate access for dialysis, which would take place the next day, hopefully first thing in the morning, but for sure within 24 hours.

I drove home (yes, I drove!) to supply us for at least one, maybe two days in the hospital. If I stayed with him, Henning was allowed to stay in the Patient Hotel (sub-acute and way less “institutional” than a traditional room). Of course I was staying. Duh.

Anyone who has been reading my facebook posts the last week knows this, but when I came home, it was to an immaculate space. Bente had scrubbed the entire apartment in anticipation of our wedding celebration (because the next day, we were getting married… nothing like excellent timing), and the place was literally shining. I really did cry, then.

By the time I’d returned to the hospital, Henning was checked into the Patient Hotel, and our room was ready. It was lovely. We had two beds that we were able to push together. They made sure we ate, that we knew who was on staff for the evening, that we had extra blankets and pillows… they were wonderful.  After the experiences we’d had for the past few weeks, it was like finding an oasis.

We had an amazing dinner, and were able to finally relax, somewhat. We watched movies and read until they called Henning for surgery. I had only intended to follow him to the ward, but due to a combination of miscommunication between the porter and the surgical nurse, and (I am SURE – the language barrier), I was suited up in cap and gown and stood in a corner to observe the entire thing.

I was sure the phone would ring in the middle of the procedure, as I had not even thought of turning it off until the doc was well under way, and when I shifted position to check it, everyone stopped to make sure I was ok, so I just left it alone… Yikes!!!

I won’t go into all the details here, but it was fascinating. I have watched my oldest daughter have surgery, so I was somewhat prepared to watch someone I love get cut into. Somewhat. I also had a small career on the telemetry floor of a hospital as a phlebotomist and nursing assistant, so I know I have no fear of blood, guts, or other bodily excretions, and was in no danger of passing out or otherwise disrupting the operation. But…  it was still disturbing, as much as it was fascinating.

The procedure took about 20 minutes, and that was including the doc being interrupted by a phone call, and a visitor. I have a skit written in my head depicting the whole thing that I’m sure would be worthy of Saturday Night Live… but I digress.

Henning was then taken to X-Ray to make sure the catheter was properly placed. There was a fun moment (that I missed because the room was too small for all of us and the bed) when the tech asked if Henning would please stand up for the X-Ray, and Henning delayed for a moment after saying, “No,” before giving his explanation. I wish I had been there for that moment… 😀 Oh, and the catheter WAS properly placed.

After an hour or so of observation, we were allowed to go back to the Patient Hotel and (finally, maybe?) sleep. Have I mentioned how much sleep we have had at this point? Right, none. Neither of us had slept through the night in weeks… and had not more than an hour at a time in days. We soon discovered that the two beds were not quite the same height, and the taller one had a slight wooden lip that my elbow honed in on right away, but otherwise, it was very nice. But we didn’t sleep. We dozed, there was some snoring… but neither of us was able to let go enough, to relax enough, to really sleep.

The next morning, I grabbed food from the fabulous buffet provided, and we settled in to wait for the call to come to dialysis. We had quite a few OTHER calls, because people wanted to know what was going on, but no call from the dialysis ward. Henning’s dad had come to town, so we called him to ask him to chill the wine… I have mentioned that now we are well into our WEDDING DAY, right? No? Well, the days were running together at that point… so…

Finally the call from the dialysis ward came. They were unable to get us in first thing, but if we came in at 3pm… Henning asked them to call back in 5 minutes while we had a discussion.

The wedding was scheduled for 1pm. We had people coming over, some from quite far, and some (like his dad) had already arrived. Could we do the wedding, AND the party, in TWO hours?? Or … the other option was to wait until the next day for dialysis. When they called back, we took the 3pm slot. Or maybe… we could push it to between 3pm and 4pm… ? 🙂 When they found out why we needed more time, they complied readily.

So then….

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