Tuesday night. We’ve just heard from the doctor that Brooke isn’t to go home tomorrow morning, Wednesday, as we’d begun to celebrate, but will be required to stay in until the following Monday in order to make sure that training of our staff concerning the pacer and the ventilator (which he uses at night) is adequate and, presumably, that his condition is otherwise good enough for discharge.
This is a major disappointment—we were both psyched and ready to go forward, and even though it means an immense change in our lives, we were ardently looking forward to it.
We’ve talked about this delay. Of course we’re disappointed—but we know in our heart of hearts, as the saying goes, that the doctor is right: despite all the dedicated training that’s been going on, not everyone working for us knows how to avoid disrupting the pacer, knows how to inflate the cough during CoughAssist, knows how to use the vent correctly. Brooke’s sense of security seems adequate for coming home; but we know that’s not all that’s at issue.
We know there are risks in coming home, where we can’t have professional care all the time. These are risks that Brooke is willing to take; we just don’t want them to be quite as big as the doctor suggests they could be. Thus we’re grateful for someone who’s eager to make sure this goes right, even if it does take a substantially longer time.
Get it right. Not so fast. Monday will be soon enough for now.