What is it about a crisis that makes me wax literary? No clue.
Brief summary of yesterday: WineGuy has bad pneumonia in the left lung, dangerously high blood pressure, abnormal kidney tests, badly swollen feet and legs, a fever, and a violent cough. He spent the better part of yesteday in the ER and was transferred to a room around dinnertime. They dosed him with antibiotics, blood pressure medicine, and some industrial-strength diuretics. I saw him last night, thanks to my good friend, Calvin (a woman), who called and said "I'm coming over now." Thank G-d for her. WineGuy was doing a little better last night.
I went to see WineGuy again today. More thanks for good friends, L&H. WineGuy is doing better today. His fever is gone. His blood pressure is now merely elevated instead of dangerously high. His white blood count is nearly normal. He is coughing less, feeling better, and that is all good news.
His feet and legs are still badly swollen. He tested gram-negative for bacteria in his blood (blood culture grew bacteria), which means the infection spread to the bloodstream. He is on heavy antibiotics to kill the microbes. His kidney function is also still elevated, which they're attributing to the systemic infection.
WineGuy claims they're going to discharge him tomorrow. I'm not too sure of that, but we'll go get him whenever they set him free. He's a bit bored sitting there, but he's getting some peace and quiet -- forced rest.
His partners cancelled his schedule Monday and Tuesday, and he was annoyed with that. He's still annoyed with me for even saying anything to anyone, but I know I did the right thing contacting his office. He's had a few visitors again today, including his faithful nurse, S. She is a truly outstanding individual and has helped us immensely in so many ways.
The boys didn't have much of a Thanksgiving. They played over at our friends' house this afternoon while I was at the hospital. They had fun there, and then we went to see "Happy Feet," which they loved. They weren't hungry for dinner, after all that popcorn and soda, so they're just hanging out now. I missed Thanksgiving, and I did not. I'm exhausted and ready to have WG come home, knowing full well the work it will entail.
Now I understand better what my mother went through all those days and weeks my dad was in the hospital. It wears on the body and the soul. Maybe tomorrow I'll post the things for which I am thankful.
[NB: When I chose the title for this post, I wasn't too familiar with Eugene O'Neill's play, "Long Day's Journey Into Night," other than the title. In reading summaries of the play, I am a little spooked by the coincidence of WineGuy's cough and the character, Edmund's, cough and tuberculosis.]