Nightlife in the hospital
The IMCU stepdown unit, where Brooke is now, has some real advantages, chief among them comparative quiet and a fold-out hideabed couch. The staff is so kindly that they will even bring you sheets and blankets, and let a Significant Other sleep here overnight. This is my third night here with Brooke—we’re trying to think of it as a swank hotel in some remote exotic place.
So here it is 12:24 am and the respiratory tech has just arrived for the breathing treatment—this happens every four hours around the clock, and consists of checking the numbers on the ventilator, putting albuterol and mucomist in vent lines (this opens up the bronchii and breaks up the secretions), then using a percussor to pound on his chest (Brooke likes this, even though he can’t feel most of it), then sucking out the secretions through his trach. I have a hard time watching this part of it but B is pretty stoic. But it’s more fun this evening—the tech is from Puerto Rico, from an area we’ve traveled in years ago, and wonderful guy. So we put a wild disk of Cuban music on the CD player and are, well, partying.
And the tech will come back at 4:24am for more.
It’s nice to share the lighthearted moments with you. They’re not all that way. Indeed, this is more like a rollercoaster ride than a continuing party—hard uphill climbs, fearsome downhill swoops, a few breathtaking views, but for this one a pretty hefty entrance fee.
I’ve been reading Brooke the current comments on the blog and it is amazingly energizing to him. Indeed, that’s how we got into such a party mood, even before the respiratory tech arrived. Thank you guys for writing.